Hellebores
'Curiosity is dangerous - and satisfaction is a death warrant.'
Each step I take towards the edge of the corner is too heavy. The sudden sight of bloody red eyes, paired with the low growl coming from them, adds as a factor as to why it feels so damn heavy. It's full of malice... What is this thing?
The growling sounds again, making my blood run cold.
Daringly, I took out my phone and turned on its flashlight to see what it was about.
The flashlight beam shines directly at the edge of the corner with the red eyes, lighting the surroundings ever so slightly. It gives me just enough light to make out its shape with its eyes being the only physical feature visible in the darkness. The flashlight reveals the source of the growling to be a man, hunched over and clearly in pain. His clothes are stained with blood, with his stomach wound looking fresh. I didn't realize it at first, but the red glow in his eyes was just his blood running down his face and down the sides of his body.
Ah, fuck.
I can see now why he made that low growling sound. Whatever this is, it was not happy with me shining a light at him or even just my simple presence. He must be cautious of me seeing his situation.
Don't people ask for help to get into a hospital?
My eyes meet theirs, and the tension in the air grows thicker. The person was glaring at me, a look of pure anger and venom in their eyes. The intensity is unsettling, almost eerie. Why are they looking at me like that?
I want to say something to try and placate the situation, or at least diffuse some of the tension, but I'm not sure what to say or what could possibly set this person off if I say the wrong thing. So, I just stand there, frozen, watching as this person glares with rage.
"Don't even think about taking one step closer. Stay back." he growled.
This person is livid. Their eyes are narrowed into furious slits, their face a mixture of annoyance and sheer rage. There's a wild energy in his voice, as if he's not in a situation where he is obviously hurt and sitting down there just waiting to be fetched by death himself.
The way I see it, he can't move. His injury and pain must feel like a bitch.
I always bring my medical kit since I am a medical student and I need a few things to perform practical quizzes, demonstrations and even practical exams.
After a moment of silence and my indecisiveness, I approached him closer and did him an inspection. He does have a wound on his abdomen, but it's not a deep cut. The blood running down to his face didn't seem to be his. He was about to retaliate and say something about my actions, but he vomited instead. Right in front of me. It even got onto my clothes.
Fucking bastard.
I took a deep breath and held myself back from giving him a smack, but he looked nauseous, and I didn't want another shot at my clothes. Hell, I'm already pissed off. I continued inspecting him closely.
Abdominal pain.
Bruises.
Vomiting.
Dehydration.
Headache.
Low-grade fever.
And small superficial cuts.
This must be food poisoning and, by any chance, did he get into a fight? The nearest clinic is far from here and it's hailing. His bad luck might get worse if we go to war against the hail. Shit.
I took out a towel and a small bag pouch where I put all my coins. I took out my coins and just put them somewhere inside my bag. Then I picked up a few hailstones and put them inside the small bag pouch. I estimated the cold to be at 45 degrees Fahrenheit, but not accurate.
"Stay back. Just... stay the hell away." His grunts in pain and his voice is getting weaker.
He is speaking through clenched teeth, breathing heavily amid the pain of his injuries. He's obviously still angry, but there's a desperate quality in his voice now. They need help, but they're too proud to ask.
"Keep your fucking distance before I snap and do something we both regret." He warned in a hoarse tone.
Fuck, what?
It made me dumbfounded a little, but I ignored it and took out a bottle of water from my bag. I raised up his black shirt, which made him surprised and flinch. I can tell he's absolutely fucking mad at the way he uses a mad expression.
A moment of silence and hesitation before I spoke to him.
"... Can you bite it?" I asked.
He gave me a confused and mad look. I pulled his shirt towards his mouth and showed him that I want him to bite it, so I could have access to his abdomen.
"You want to keep your limbs intact... you keep your damn mouth shut... and your fucking hands to yourself..." He growls at me.
Despite being hurt and pathetically weak in his situation, his stern, no-nonsense tone leaves no room for misinterpretation or ambiguity. It's clear that he does not want to be messed with and that any provocation or defiance will be met with immediate and swift action, whatever form it may take.
I say, fucking bullshit.
Is he courting an early appointment with St. Peter?
He suddenly pulled out a gun from his back. I see the gun in his hand and my heart races even faster. My stomach dropped as I saw the gun. All the color seems to leave my vision and my throat tightens.
My brain is moving slower than normal and all I can do is stand there frozen, as if my body were on autopilot.
He's not thinking straight, and he's definitely not someone I want to mess with. His eyes are wild and vacant, his mouth set in a snarl as he points the gun in my direction. This could go so wrong...
Hell, I'm already pissed off about how my morning had a bad start when this shit happens.
Fuck me.
I take a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs and the anticipation fills my body. My heart is pumping hard, my mind running through its worst-case scenarios and second-guessing everything I'm doing.
I let my shoulders settle and turned my gaze in his direction.
"Listen, I will leave the cold pack in your abdomen for no longer than 20 minutes at a time," I calmly said. "It'll help reduce redness and pain. It'll also help to prevent potential swelling, bruises and other injuries from worsening."
I can feel his dead eyes on me, scanning me up and down, searching for clues and hints. It's making me uneasy and anxious, like I need to have a good explanation of where I've been and what I'm doing. I'm uncomfortable under his scrutiny, and I'm not sure if I can keep my composure much longer.
Ah, fuck.
My patience has its own limits, so I just grabbed his cheeks and pushed a part of his clothes into his mouth to make him bite it so that it'd raise his shirt. He made muffled growling sounds as he glared at me with dead eyes.
I intentionally spilled water from the bottle onto his abdomen, then I took out some tissues from my bag to wipe it clean. I wrapped the small pouch--where I filled it with hailstones, in a towel, then I pressed it onto his abdomen. His muscles tensed and groaned from the sudden cold sensation.
"Fuck..." He groans under his breath.
I notice how tense he is, with his arm veins visibly bulging out. He lets out a grunt of discomfort, trying to fight off the cold.
I can't help but notice how attractive his groan is, especially while struggling to keep warm. Dangerous, seductive, and intoxicating - it's a trifecta of alluring qualities that would make anyone swoon.
I took out another towel from my bag and sprinkled it with water from a bottle, then gently wiped the blood off his face to make it clean.
His face is like a frozen landscape, with chiseled features and eyes sharp like winter, those eyes like a piercing shade of blue that seems to peer into your very soul. His pale skin is like white canvas and his skin like smooth ivory, with a few scattered freckles like snowflakes to add to its perfections.
Damn.
I can tell he's trying to act tough, but I can see the vulnerability beneath...