I laid there with Lupin in my arms as my mind raced through everything that had just happened. I couldn't believe that she'd hurt herself, and based on the look in her eyes, I don't think it was the first time either.
If I hadn't gone to check on her... I don't even want to think about how far she might've gone.
I looked down at her now sleeping form. Just a few hours ago, she was in the middle of a massive panic attack. Not more than an hour ago, she was either too terrified or too embarrassed to speak. Barely half an hour ago, she was burning herself in the bathroom. But now... She looked like the picture of peace.
She shivered in her sleep. I slowly got out of the bed and covered her with a blanket before slipping back under the covers and wrapping my arms around her once again.
Her skin was cold to the touch, almost icy, especially the hand on my chest, but I wasn't surprised. Around the apartment, she's usually wrapped up in either an oversized hoodie or a blanket. Frankly, I didn't care how cold she was. I just pulled her closer and softly kissed her head.
I couldn't help but look at her injured hand. I gently picked it up from where she'd lain it on my chest. Even wrapped in the bandages, it looked small and different from my own. The major difference being the long slender fingers that stuck out of the bandages. My hand was definitely larger and probably stronger, but Lupin's hands looked as if they had been made with a purpose in mind. It was as if her hands had been built for the sole purpose of something like playing piano, creating art, or even something as simple as swiftly typing on a keyboard. Anything that involved creating something out of nothing.
Even wrapped in bandages, her hands looked artistic and delicate, especially in comparison to my own which were covered in callouses and scars from the numerous fights I'd been in over the years. Lupin had scars of her own, but they didn't detract from her beauty. They emphasized it by setting her apart from anyone else.
I moved my fingertips along the inside of her forearm. After a few passes back and forth, I noticed something. Once I was absolutely sure I wouldn't wake her, I turned her arm just enough to see her inner forearm. Fortunately, I hadn't turned the lamp off before Lupin fell asleep, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to see the faint traces of scars all along her inner arm.
After what I'd seen her doing to herself in the bathroom, my mind immediately jumped to the most worrisome explanation for these scars. Had she tried to hurt herself before? Or worse? Once I took a closer look, I saw that none of the scars were deep enough, or in the right place, to do the kind of damage that filled the worst of my thoughts. I was still concerned, but I was seriously relieved that the worst of my fears had been disproven.
What could possibly make someone as intelligent, kind, and strong as Lupin want to hurt themselves? I thought.
Lupin was very upfront about her social anxiety and issues with people when I first hired her to find the mole. I've respected that and tried to help her (the easier it is for her to be around people, the easier it'll be for her to find the mole), but this... This was more that just some lifelong anxiety disorder. This was something different. Something worse.
I don't know why I want to help Lupin so much. I tell myself that it's just because I need her to find the mole in my organization, but, after seeing her on the floor like that... I'm not so sure anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Mafia
General FictionAfter years of hard work, Lupin finally managed to make a place for herself in the city she now called home. As far as anyone knew, she was just a shy, timid, girl working as the personal assistant of one of the biggest news operations in the city...