Vow In Blood

Bleeding Stranger "Holy crap!" Zoey gasped when she stepped into the eerily silent inn to find a stranger sprawled on the worn sofa, bleeding to death. It wasn't every day that she found strangers so severely wounded and bruised that they became so pale. Her first instinct was to spin around and bolt right out the door, but the stranger held out a hand weakly, her fingers coated with bright, red blood. "Help…please!" Zoey's breath caught as she took steps back. She couldn't take her eyes off the blue-eyed blonde who was seconds away from death. Though common sense yelled at her to run for her life, she couldn't help but be overcome by her medical sympathy. "Who are you? What happened?" she asked, clenching her fists to stop them from trembling. "A fight…" he gasped, trying to shift on the couch, but that only elicited a guttural growl. "There was… a fight… robbery… help…" Damnit! Zoey inched closer, fear gripping her like a giant hand. "We have to get you to a hospital!" "No!" he growled, almost like the word hospital triggered a phobia. "No hospitals, please!" "You're bleeding out and need immediate medical attention!" The stranger shook his head, his blue eyes becoming paler. "I don't… have medical insurance. It's storming…" "s**t!" Zoey became restless. Even if the stranger didn't strongly object to going to a hospital because of insurance, how did she hope to get him there? She had a flat tire and was caught in a storm on her way there. She took shelter in the old inn by the roadside until she fixed her tyre. Glancing at the bleeding man in agony, her heart raced, and so did her mind. 'Think, Zoe, think!' "Uh…I have medical supplies in my trunk," she said hastily when the idea came to her. "I'll get them and…see what I can do." "Hurry…" Zoe dashed out of the inn again, her adrenaline rendering her oblivious to the pouring rain and the cold that seeped through her skin like water paper. Within seconds, she was drenched but jogged out to where her car had broken down. Fiddling with the trunk, she opened it, pulled out her first aid kit, and then hurried back to the inn. Just as she shut the door, a c***k of lightning tore through the sky, and she shuddered from anxiety and the cold. The stranger wasn't dead—good. He was still writhing in pain. Zoey went over uneasily. She knew what she was doing was unethical, but there was that nudge in her to at least save his life before she could find out what had happened. "Okay, I've got the supplies." Zoe froze beside the stranger when her eyes glimpsed a bloody patch on the floorboard. She hadn't noticed it before because it was close to the worn, dusty brown couch he was sprawled on. Taking a closer look, Zoey flinched. "Bullets? You were shot?" not only had he been shot; he'd dug out the bullets by himself! That sent alarm bells ringing in her head, telling her she wasn't supposed to be there. Not at that time. She looked around the inn, her heart hammering in fear. Was she in danger? Would this come back to bite her? "You were shot…" "Robbers…" he grunted. "Took my… car! We fought and…" "Don't talk," Zoey said, stopping him. The more he talked, the worse he bled, and she felt he could talk about it in detail when he was clear-headed. And if she was a fool to throw herself into danger by helping him… well, so be it. Her life was dangerous as it was already just by being an Olson. Zoe opened the first aid kit and took out the supplies, and then she swiftly unbuttoned his shirt. The blue shirt had a darker shade where blood had soaked. She peeled it off his body, revealing three ghastly wounds spread over his chest and stomach. The fourth wound on his side was a knife s***h. 'Dear God!' How the stranger was still alive till that moment was a miracle! Zoey cleaned his wound with spirit, wincing every time he growled and grunted to the pinch of the liquid. After that, she grabbed his shirt and tore out a portion that wasn't severely stained with blood. "Bite on this. It will hurt worse than before." She pushed the folded cloth into the stranger's mouth, muffling his grunts. Taking a deep breath, she carefully stitched the wounds. It was a good thing the lighting in the inn was bright; otherwise, it would've made stitching difficult. Zoe wasn't sure how long it took to stitch the wounds, but she was exhausted and clammy when she finished, and the stranger was barely holding on. She spread more disinfectant over the wound before applying bandages. Then, she dug through the box and retrieved some Tylenol. "I don't have something for the inflammation, but this will help with the pain… at least." She forced the tablets down his throat, and he swallowed, then lay there, grunting. Zoey sat back, exhausted and nauseous. In haste, she'd neglected some basic medical safety procedures of gloves and wearing a nose mask. It was dangerous, but she couldn't do anything about it now other than disinfecting her hands, nails, and… The stranger's breathing became shallow. At first, Zoey didn't think much of it because it was customary for someone who'd just endured that much pain without anesthesia to have a fever and probably get knocked out for a few hours. But this was different. His breathing was slowing, and she could imagine the heart rate machine dropping to a flat, red line. "Hey," Zoey called. "Can you hear me?" There was no reply except for his shallow breathing. Zoey's heart sank. "No, no!" she frantically slapped him on the shoulder, trying to get him back. "Don't die on me! Not after I've gone through all that!" She slapped him again, but it wasn't working. Terrified, she pressed her ear lightly against his chest. His heartbeat was way below average. He was dying….