Academy Tales: Owen Blackbourne In Russia

Chapter 2- The Man Near The Fence

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2 months ago, Russia:

Sangs POV:

No, No, I'm sorry! Please! Please! Not again!

She smiled, a horrid evil smile and raised the whip, eyes bright with malice and pleasure as my pain brought her satisfaction.

Wack. Her hand raised again-

I shot up in bed and screamed, my hands fisting my sheets as my panicked eyes scanned the room, looking for a place that the woman from my past could be. Desk, antique-clock, laptop, bedside-table, carpet, bookshelf, closet, empty boxes under my bed. No sign of the woman or her bloody whip.

I hopped out of bed and headed for my bathroom, wanting to wash away the memories and watch them go down the drain. Turning on the shower, I grabbed soap and began to wash myself, ignoring the layers of scars upon scars that littered my body. There wasnt a single section of my body that didnt have a scar on it, not even my face.

There was a scar that ran from my eyebrow, through my eye and ended halfway through my cheek. It left me half blind in that eye and I often put in a green contact and wore concealer so that no-one would see the swirls of white in my left eye, or the jagged bumps of the badly healed scar.

Turning off the water, I dried myself and changed, putting on overalls and a black t-shirt, as today was farming and maintenance day. Today I had to shave the sheep, milk the cows, and collect the eggs from the chickens.

Then I had to check on the barbed wire gate that I have put around my property and put in the final piece. And then I need to cook and fetch groceries, because I was beginning to run low on edible food.

I put on my boots and headed out the door, heading towards the paddock with the sheep, shearer in hand, ready to de-coat some sheep.

The day went by quickly as I completed one chore and then another, and another.

I wiped my forehead with my sleeve as sweat had collected in my brow due to the amount of work I was doing. The last thing on my list was checking and finilazing the fence.

I headed in the direction of the fence, my tired feet sluggishly moving towards my property boundary.

From afar, I noticed an odd shape leaning against the edge of the unfinished border of the fence, and it looked suspiciously like a person.

I sped up a bit, and jogged towards the figure, pausing 5 metres away to call out.

"Hello? Why are you on my property?"

No response.

"Hello?"

I noticed the figure was male, and gasped as I saw that his once white shirt was stained with blood.

This was an injured man.

I approached him slowly taking baby steps towards his body, jumping in fright as his foot twitched.

Damn my jumpines. I was one of those people who even if they saw someone coming towards them to scare them, would still get scared.

I paused a foot away from him, still wary even though he seemed to be unconcious.

Seeing no further movement, I nearly besude him and tapped his face. No response.

What was I to do?

There's an injured man here who could be a killer for hire or a gang man and could potentially harm me.

Or he could be an innocent civilian who got caught in a cross fire.

Do I leave him to die?

No. If I was in that sort of situation, I would want someone to help me.

I tied back my hair, and stretched out my back, ready to lift this man back to my cabin.

I grabbed his shoulders and hoisted him up, groaning at his weight. Why did men have to be so heavy?

And the man was damn tall too, so that sucked as well. He looked to be about 6 foot 2 and my 4'11 frame would struggle to lift him.

I began to lift him, and then paused.

Lifting the beast of a man? Scratch that. More like dragging him. My body is tiny compared to this beast of a man.

I huffed and puffed and headed to my house, ignoring how my overworked muscles protested in agony at the extra weight I was forcing them to carry.

I smiled as my cabin came in to view, and started to move faster, knowing every step brought me closer to ridding myself of the man.

Opening my front door, I pulled the man past the threshold of my living room and into one of the spare rooms I had.

I grunted again as I hefted him onto the bed. Taking scissors from the kitchen, I cut away his shirt, peeling it from his body gently as to not aggravate any unknown wounds.

All I knew was that his chest was injured, I had not a clue as to the state of the ready of him.

Pulling back the cut shirt, I was momentarily distracted by the lines of a six pack on his defined chest, before I focused on the problem.

On his right side was a gun shot wound and judging by its position on his chest it hadn't hit anything major, but he seemed to have lost alot of blood.

As I worked to sew up and disinfect his would,I grew slightly worried. A general civilian wouldn't have come anywhere near a gun, right?

Author's note:

What do you think?

Good chapter 2?

I changed the ending slightly of chapter 1 but it's nothing major.

Any spelling/ grammar mistakes?

Suggestions?

Anything random to say?.