It Will Come Back

Stitches and secrets

The strange man leaned heavily on me as I struggled to unlock the door, my hand trembling so violently that the keys clattered against the lock. I bit my lip, silently willing myself to calm down. Come on, Lux. Just open the damn door.

Finally, with a click, the door swung open, and I led him inside. My small, cluttered kitchen looked like a messier, less inviting version of the safe haven I’d been hoping to return to. The flickering fluorescent light above didn’t help, casting shadows that danced ominously across the walls.

“Sit here,” I said, pulling out one of the wooden chairs at the kitchen table. He slumped into it without a word, still clutching his side, his face pale but composed.

As soon as his hand left my shoulder, I realized how much I’d been holding my breath. A wave of relief washed over me, but it was quickly replaced by panic when I saw the growing bloodstain on his shirt.

“What’s your name?” I asked, my voice unsteady as I hovered near the sink, unsure of what to do next.

“Ash,” he mumbled, his voice low and rough.

I nodded, though it didn’t help ease the tension coiled tightly in my chest. “Ash, uh… I think I’ll have to take the bullet out.” The words felt foreign and absurd, tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Ash raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement breaking through his pain. “Well, you could try to sound a little more confident,” he said with a dry chuckle that turned into a wince.

“Sorry,” I stammered, feeling my face flush. “It’s my first time doing… anything remotely medical. I mean, I don’t even know how to—hold on, I’ll look it up!” I fumbled for my phone, my fingers slipping as I pulled it from my back pocket.

Before I could search anything, Ash snatched the phone from my hand and slipped it into his own pocket.

“Hey!” I protested, reaching for it.

He shook his head. “You won’t need it. It’ll fix itself.”

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. “Fix itself? What are you talking about?”

Ash hesitated, his eyes narrowing as if he regretted saying anything. “It’s… nature. You know, survival instincts. Natural selection. Just… nature shit.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow. “Sure. Nature. Got it.”

“Good,” he muttered, avoiding my gaze.

I decided not to press further, partly because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. “Stay here,” I said instead. “I need to get supplies.”

As I turned toward the stairs, my foot caught on the edge of the carpet, and I tripped, landing hard on the steps. Heat rushed to my face as I scrambled to my feet.

“Smooth,” Ash called after me, his voice tinged with amusement despite his condition.

I ignored him, muttering under my breath as I hurried upstairs to the supply closet. My hands were still shaking as I grabbed the first-aid kit and sewing kit, and I had to take a few deep breaths before heading back down.

To my surprise, Ash was still sitting at the table, his head resting against the back of the chair.

“I thought you’d run,” I admitted, setting the supplies down on the counter.

He chuckled softly, though it came out more like a pained wheeze. “Not really in shape for a sprint, darling.”

My cheeks flushed again at the casual endearment. Darling? Really? Lux, now is not the time.

I forced myself to focus, grabbing the needle and holding it over the stove flame to sterilize it. “Okay,” I said, turning back to Ash. “This is going to hurt. A lot.”

“Looking forward to it,” he deadpanned, unbuttoning his shirt with slow, deliberate movements.

My breath hitched as his shirt fell open, revealing a broad, toned chest marred by blood and dirt. Focus, Lux. Bullet wound. Remember the bullet wound.

“Lie down on the floor,” I said, gesturing to the small living room. “It’s not exactly a hospital bed, but it’s the best I’ve got.”

Ash complied without complaint, lowering himself stiffly to the floor. I knelt beside him, my hands trembling as I picked up the tweezers.

“This is going to be… unpleasant,” I warned.

“Just do it,” he gritted out, his icy blue eyes locking onto mine.

I swallowed hard and leaned closer, trying not to gag at the sight of the wound. The bullet was lodged deep, and blood welled up around it as I worked the tweezers into the flesh.

Ash let out a strangled cry, his hands gripping the floor as his body tensed in pain.

“Almost there,” I murmured, my own voice shaky. After what felt like an eternity, the tweezers closed around the bullet, and I pulled it free with a triumphant shout.

“Got it!” I exclaimed, holding the bloody piece of metal up like a trophy.

Ash glared at me, his face pale and slick with sweat. “Great. Now put me back together before I bleed out.”

“Right, stitching,” I muttered, grabbing the needle and thread. My stitches were messy and uneven, but they held, and Ash only flinched a few times during the process.

Finally, I poured antiseptic over the wound, eliciting another groan from Ash.

“All done,” I said, sitting back on my heels and wiping my forehead.

Ash propped himself up on one elbow, studying me with an unreadable expression. “Thank you… Lux.”

The sound of my name on his lips sent a strange shiver down my spine, but I shook it off. “You should rest,” I said, helping him to his feet.

Before he could respond, the sound of keys jingling in the front door made both of us freeze.

“That’s my dad,” I whispered, my heart racing. “You need to go. Now.”

Ash nodded, moving toward the back door with surprising speed for someone who’d just been shot. He paused before leaving, turning to give me a small, almost playful smile.

“Thanks again, darling,” he said, his tone lighter now. Then he was gone, disappearing into the night as the door clicked shut behind him.

What do you think? Should I keep fleshing out more details?