You need treatment
1319 Words
Just as Elena was about to step back into the alley, fear tightening around her chest again,
headlights cut through the rain.
A car was approaching.
She froze.
It was a taxi.
The yellow body became clearer as it moved closer, the headlights sweeping across the wet
road and reflecting off the puddles.
Her heart jumped.
Without thinking, she stepped quickly back into the shadow of the alley entrance, pressing
herself against the wall to avoid the light.
She leaned forward slightly, squinting through the rain.
“Please… please let it be empty,
” she whispered.
The taxi came closer.
Her eyes strained to see inside.
As it passed under a flickering streetlight, she saw clearly.
Only the driver.
No passengers.
Relief hit her instantly.
Before she could think twice, she stepped out of the alley and into the light.
“Hey! Wait!” she shouted, waving both hands in the air.
The taxi kept moving.
“Stop! Please stop!”
She began to run after it, her shoes splashing through the rainwater.
“Stop!”
She did not even realize she had left her suitcase behind.
All she could think about was the man bleeding in the alley.
I have to get him out of here.
The taxi sped past her.
Her voice faded into the rain.
She slowed down, her steps faltering.
Then she stopped completely.
Her chest rose and fell heavily as she stood in the middle of the empty road.
It was gone.
Her shoulders dropped.
“What do I do now…
” she whispered.
For a moment, she just stood there, the rain pouring over her, her mind spinning.
Then—
The red brake lights ahead flickered.
The taxi slowed.
Then stopped.
Elena’s eyes widened.
The car reversed slowly, tires rolling through the water, until it stopped right in front of her.
The window rolled down.
The driver leaned slightly toward her, his eyes scanning her from head to toe.
“What are you doing out here at this time of night?” he asked.
“And why is there blood on your
shirt?”
Elena froze.
She looked down at herself.
The front of her shirt was stained dark from the blood she had tried to stop.
Her breath caught.
She looked back at the driver quickly.
“Sir, please,
” she said, her voice urgent.
“Can you take me to St. Lucia Orphanage?”
The driver frowned.
“Young lady, I asked you a question,
” he said.
“Why are you bleeding?”
Elena swallowed.
Her mind raced.
Then she spoke quickly.
“My brother was shot,
” she said.
“He’s inside that alley.
”
She pointed behind her.
“If I don’t get him to a hospital soon, he’s going to die.
”
Her voice shook, but her eyes were desperate.
“Please help me.
”
The driver stared at her for a moment, studying her face.
Rain tapped against the roof of the taxi.
Then he nodded.
“Alright,
” he said.
“I’ll help.
”
Relief flooded her face instantly.
“Thank you,
” she said quickly.
She turned and ran toward the alley.
“Come, he’s this way!”
The driver stepped out of the taxi and followed her.
They moved quickly into the alley.
The dim light revealed the man still slumped where she had left him.
The moment the driver saw him, he stopped.
His entire body stiffened.
His eyes widened.
“…Sir,” he said slowly, almost under his breath.
The man on the ground lifted his gaze.
Just slightly.
But it was enough.
Silence dropped instantly.
The driver didn’t finish the name.
Didn’t dare.
He stepped back half a step, his expression tightening as if he had just seen something he wasn’t supposed to.
“Move,” the man on the ground muttered weakly
Dangerously calm.
That was all it took.
The driver swallowed
“…Yes, sir.”
Elena didn’t notice. She was already crouching beside him, checking the cloth she had pressed against his wound. It was soaked through.
“We have to move now,” she said.
They lifted him together, his arm draped heavily across Elena’s shoulders. He was much heavier than she expected, and her knees nearly buckled under the weight, but she planted her feet and held on.
“I’ve got you,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
He said nothing.
But his eyes dropped to her briefly, something unreadable passing through them before they went flat again.
They got him into the back seat. Elena climbed in beside him and immediately pressed her hands back against the wound.
“Drive,” she said.
The engine started.
Rain hammered the windows as they moved through the empty streets. Inside the car, no one spoke.
Elena kept her focus on the wound, her jaw tight, her hands steady despite everything. She had no medical training. She had no idea if what she was doing was right. She only knew that if she stopped pressing, he would bleed faster.
“Stay awake,” she said quietly.
He didn’t answer.
“I mean it,” she added, glancing at him. “Don’t you dare close your eyes.”
His head turned slightly toward her. Even now, pale and bleeding, there was something unnervingly calm about him. Like the pain was happening to someone else and he was simply observing it.
“You are very bossy,” he said, his voice low and rough.
“You were shot,” she replied flatly. “You don’t get an opinion right now.”
The faintest trace of something crossed his face. Not quite a smile. But close.
Elena looked away and stared at the road ahead.
She didn’t know his name. She didn’t know who those men were or why they had been chasing him. She didn’t know why the driver had reacted the way he did when he saw him, or why he had gone so carefully silent after just one look.
She didn’t know any of it.
And some quiet part of her understood that she probably shouldn’t.
But she had pulled him out of that alley, and now his blood was on her hands, and she was not the kind of person who could simply stop caring in the middle of something.
“We’re here,” the driver said.
The taxi slowed outside the gates of St. Lucia Orphanage.
Elena was out of the car before it fully stopped. She ran to the gate and knocked hard.
“Please! Open up!”
A light came on inside. Footsteps. Then the gate opened and the old caretaker appeared, wrapped in a shawl, her face creased with confusion.
“Elena?” She looked her up and down. “What on earth—”
“He’s been shot,” Elena said breathlessly. “He needs help. Please.”
The woman’s expression shifted immediately into something older and steadier.
“Get the others,” she called back into the building.
Doors opened. Voices rose. Two caretakers came rushing out into the rain.
Together, they got the injured man out of the car and carried him inside.
Elena followed closely, her eyes not leaving him until they laid him down and someone with steady hands finally took over from her.
She stepped back.
Her hands were still trembling. She hadn’t noticed until now.
She stood in the dim hallway, soaking wet, her shirt stained with someone else’s blood, her broken suitcase somewhere outside in the rain. She had nothing. She had nowhere to go. She had come back to this place with nothing but the same emptiness she had carried out of the DeLuca house.
And yet somehow, on the way here, the night had become about someone else entirely.
She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
Down the hallway, one of the caretakers called out for more towels.
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