The Venom In You

Part 5: Wynn

When Wynn didn't take my hand, I decided to get back on my feet slowly, not wanting to make any sudden movements in case he pulled out another crazy kick on me. I looked at the ground sheepishly, trying to avoid his face, just waiting for him to say something. Anything.

In the corner of my eye I noticed his lips begin to curve into a wholehearted grin which then transformed into a bellowing laugh.

"You're alive, haha!" He gave me firm squeeze on the shoulder which almost sent me flying sideways. This boy did not know his own strength. "I thought Dicer's other guys might have got you, they were looking everywhere. Anyway, the name is Winnie. But please, call me Wynn."

Wynn held out his hand, as my jaw began to drop. Here I was expecting another bruised rib, but instead he was laughing?

When he realised I wasn't going to take his hand, he lowered it and stepped to the side. "Please, come in." He ushered me into the bar and closed the door behind me. I couldn't help be a little apprehensive, after all paranoia keeps you alive, but his doll-like eyes were so sweet, so genuine. People this kind were hard to find in Old London.

"I'll go get us a drink. No one will be opening up shop till midday." Wynn turned around and made his way to the bar, then whipped his head around with a cheeky smile to see me still standing in the doorway. "You not coming?"

I nodded and sat down at the bar, waiting for Wynn to make his concoction. He picked up a bottle containing a clear coloured liquid and poured it into a glass. I guess it wasn't too early for a drink.

"Where's that lime gone..." He mumbled to himself before rummaging around the shelves. Wynn didn't seem to know his way around the bar.

My eyes traced the lines of his body, from his muscular arms to his sharp shoulder blades. Then, my eyes widened in horror as Wynn's back was turned to reveal a multitude of long, bloody gashes seeping through his clothing. Judging by his shirt, still wet with blood, the wounds were fresh but were starting to scab over. And yet he gave no sense of pain away, despite the carnage of his back. I watched him with curious eyes as he moved gracefully with no echo of affliction in the way he beared himself.

"What happened?" I finally brought myself to ask, knowing it was none of my business.

Wynn snapped around with a lime, more brown than green, in his hand. I immediately felt guilty as he clearly seemed self-conscious about the appearance of his wounds. The faint pink tint of his cheeks told me he hadn't realised that he'd bled through his shirt.

He scratched his head, looking uncomfortable as he turned to face me. "Let's just say Dicer expected me to catch you." He laughed awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

Dicer had done this to him, because of me? I suppressed the overwhelming urge to throw up as a gag crawled up from my stomach to my throat. Yet, I couldn't shake the thought of Wynn, a stranger, taking a beating for me. After all, I was a stranger to him just as much as he was to me.

"Why would you do that?" I demanded, anger spewing out of me. Why would anyone do something so stupid? People cared about themselves around here, if you didn't look out for yourself, no one would. Moreover, I didn't want to go owing anyone favours because they weren't sticking to that unwritten rule. "Why would you let me go if you knew that would happen?"

Wynn squeezed half a lime into two glasses before pushing one towards me and picking one up himself.

"To be honest," he swirled the clear liquid around in the glass before taking a sip. "Giving me a few lashes to the back was a breeze. But firing me and kicking me out to live in this dump...now that sucks a bit."