Cure

THREE

  "Look at me." A voice whispers in my ear. I choose not to look up, the pain being preventing me from raising my head.

  "Look at me." The voice repeats, this time a command. Fingers find their way under my chin and tilt my head upwards. In that moment, the pain stops. Suddenly, I'm looking into a pair of golden irises, with flecks of amber surrounding the pupil. I am awestruck. His eyes are beautiful. I'm in a trance and I can't seem to look away. The voice in the back of my heads screams out, telling me to fight. To move. To do anything. But I can't. It's like I'm a tree, rooted to the spot. He lets go of my face and the trance disappears, alerting me of who is standing in front of me.

  He stands tall, maybe a little past six feet, with his head nearly touching the rocky ceiling. His hair falls in ruffled dark blonde curls, not too long and not too short. I examine every inch of him, taking in his well defined arms and sharp jawline. His clothes are wrinkled but the material crisp in color. A navy blue collared shirt and black jeans make up his outfit, as well as a pair of black combat boots.

  He dresses nice, I realize. He looks nice as well, but I can't help but remember that his eyes were the same ones I saw when I was in the woods bleeding out. A hatred settles in my heart. He was the one who bit me. He did this.

  I watch him with cold eyes, but he ignores it by smiling and rocking back and forth on his feet. I stand up, holding onto the rough stone behind me for support. He comes to my aid, wrapping a strong arm around my waist and I automatically try to push him away. As soon as I try, he whispers in my ear, "I saved your life, you should be thankful."

  "No, you bit me. You bit me. You're a monster." I snap. I see him expression darken and immediately he lifts me up bridal style.

  "You really shouldn't make assumptions about people, babe. After all, I'm the only one out here who knows whether your sister's alive or not."