Sinner

Stewart

Lev and I spend the night staring at one another. Well really, I was constantly staring at him and he gave me an occasional glance every few minutes.
He read a book, answered a few emails, made a couple of phone calls and between each, placed his hand on my forehead to feel if I was feverish.

He was calm, placid, barely acknowledging my presence.
"I'll tell Jamie I don't want to stay here anymore." I said.
Lev nodded from where he sat on the single seat sofa by the fireplace, sipping from a tall glass of red wine. He'd offered me some, but I was already babbling all sorts of nonsense, I couldn't imagine being intoxicated.

I hadn't slept a wink since he'd woken me up. The pain won't settle, the bleeding won't stop. My legs were numb, or maybe my brain was. The consistent sensation of pain seemed to put one's brain at unease, I wasn't even sure if it hurt anymore, I just knew I wanted it to stop.

Lev opened the door and looked outside. "I'm gonna move you to your room." His expressions were different, the one's he used at the station— his work voice.
I giggled.

He looked back confused. "You okay?"
"Yes, detective." I gave him a thumbs up. "Let's move!"
"Okay." He came towards me. "I'll try not to hold you too tightly, so just put your arms around me. Okay?"
I nodded, putting my arms around his neck.
He slid an arm under my legs and slightly lifted.
"Okay, that hurts." I said letting go of him, "I think I'm..." my brain was swimming, unfocused, I felt nauseated, intoxicated... like I was on a rollar coaster... or maybe just suspended in the air.
He scooped me off the bed.
"Oh my God." I cried out.

"I think he'll kill you." I said. "I think I will kill you."
"That's a lot of confidence for someone with only one leg." He said.
"That's a lot of attitude for someone whose life expectancy depends on me."
He ignored me again.
"Ah of course, everyone ignores the cripple." I said.
"I think I'm gonna throw up."

He remained silent. He was a patient man I had to give him that— he was also tall, and from what I had examined, nicely built. He had a nice wit and smelt like tangerines that Jamie forced him to pick from the gardens.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding tight. "Lucrecia not so tight, you're chocking me."
"I can't tell if we're going upstairs or down."

The house was asleep. Quiet with just a few decorative lights on. Bryan rolled around on the carpet, dreaming away.
The air was chill with just the sound of silence, hanging in the air— a small buzz, was that the freezer?

"I hate this." I said. "This is so irritating!"
He ignored me.
"Have you ever been shot?"
Shut up, Lure!
"Imagine Paris is in my room again." I muttered. "I'll just have to kiss you and set the record straight once and for all."
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

But the room was empty, much to his relief and my disappointment. I made a face.
"I think I'll bleed to death."
He put me down on the bed, tucking me into the covers. "Do you need anything?"
"A bullet to my head." I said. "Are you leaving?"
"I'm just upstairs, call me if you need me."
"How many floors up?"
"Too many for you and Paris." He said shutting the door.

I reached under the covers and felt my leg. The loose fabric of the gauze under my fingertips. I tried to recall what I had dreamt of when I had fallen asleep earlier. Lately I was barely able to remember my dreams at all. Tonight seemed no different. I knew I would have yet another exhausting nightmare, where I would be chasing or being chased, I knew when I'd wake up the pain would be worse... but despite all my attempts at preparing myself for sleep, I failed to sleep at all.

The clock remained ticking until finally around 7 in the morning, my patience ran out and I punched Lev's number into the phone, asking him to bring me something to eat.