Page 20 of Caged

I have no idea who she is, or where she came from.

Pulling out my phone, I text my sister.

Me: I need extra clothes.

Lara: Okay. You know where the mall is.

Me: No, women’s clothes.

Lara: Again…

Me: I’m at the safehouse on Kent. There’s a woman here who was being beaten by Reapers I’m helping.

Lara: See how nice it is when you use words? What size?

Me: Don’t know. She’s smaller than me.

Lara: So is every other human on Earth besides Mikhail. Fine, I’ll see what I can find.

“Um, Nikolai?” Melissa’s voice distracts me from my screen.

Fuck.

Her T-shirt is wet, like she’s rinsed it out, and it clings to her body, her nipples poke through the wet fabric, free of any bra.

With a fresh towel, she dabs at her head tenderly, with a second wrapped around her waist.

No pants.

All I can do is grunt.

“I think I need the staple thingy on my leg.” She pivots, revealing the bare skin of her thigh through the terry cloth.

There’s a three inch gash just above her knee that is slowly seeping a crimson stain into the white.

Pulling out a new pair of gloves, I tug them on and wave back to the couch.

She lays down on her stomach and turns, lifting the towel so I can see better.

To her credit, she barely winces when I spray the antiseptic. Four quick snaps of the stapler, and the cut is pinched closed.

Smoothing out the bandage covering, her dark eyes meet mine with my hand still resting on her leg.

I don’t like that I’m enjoying touching her.

Clearing my throat, I peel off the gloves and gather the bits of trash, leaving her still spread out on the couch.

I can’t get into the kitchen fast enough to find the garbage can. There needs to be a place she will feel safer than here.

If only there wasn’t a piece of me saying no.

She seems sweet, timid, and scared. I’m the wrong person for her, I might break her.

But, I’ll keep her safe for now.

A knock at the door makes her startle and run towards the bathroom like a frightened deer.

This world I live in would be too much for her.