Chapter 8 - Joyce

I was ready for him. With the lamp in hand, I was going to bash his head in and escape. The knob turned slowly. I watched as the door opened, and then Anton stumbled into the room. He swung around to face me. The items he had in his hand dropped to the floor as he spoke.

His voice was filled with defeat, and he sounded worn out. As the light of the moon hit his face, I was horrified. Seeing him in such dire need of medical assistance, I couldn’t. I wasn’t such a person. No, I wanted to help people.

“Anton,” I whispered as the lamp fell from my hand and shattered on the floor. Getting off the chair, I rushed to his side. “Come sit, let me have a look,” I added, guiding him to the bed. His one eyebrow had a small cut, but his eye was swelling. He would need ice for that.

He had no shirt on, and there was blood seeping through the cloth he held to his side. I moved to the door and switched on the light. Turning back to face him, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. “Oh my gosh,” I uttered as I walked to him.

“What happened?” I asked, astounded. My heart was pounding. Carefully, I pulled at his hand, holding the cloth over the wound. He had a cut running from front to back about two fingers down from his ribs. It looked painful, and I felt my stomach turning. “Do you have a medical kit?” I added.

“In the bathroom cupboard,” he huffed out. “But I’ll be fine, I just need to rest.”

“Nonsense,” I replied rushed. Turning, I headed out the door to the main bathroom somewhere in the house. I hadn’t seen much of the house and didn’t know where I was going. But I knew I would find it.

I finally found the bathroom going through one of the biggest bedrooms I had ever seen. I froze for a moment, looking around in awe. This surely had to be the main bedroom. I was sure I would find what I needed in the adjoining bathroom.

Shaking my head, I concentrated on the job at hand. I rushed through all the cupboards until I found it. “Eureka!” I called out, ecstatic that I had found it. With the medical kit in my hand, I rushed back to Anton.

He was lying on the bed. He was on his side, and his eyes were closed. I rushed to his side, feeling my insides pushing up into my throat. “Anton!” I yelled as I sank next to the bed, placing the medical kit on the floor and opening it quickly. “Please, wake up,” I added nervously.

I had no idea what I was doing. If he died here, what would I do? “No, you can’t think like that,” I told myself as I grabbed a bottle of liquid and some gauze from the kit. The bottle was labeled Saline, and I was sure it would be safe. As I was about to soak him in the liquid and press down on the wound with the gauze, he moved.

A tiny scream left my mouth as I jumped. He was mumbling something. Leaning closer, I could barely make out what he was saying. It sounded like, “I’m fine.” Then he rolled over onto his back, moaning loudly. I couldn’t even start to imagine the pain he must have been feeling.

Looking at him, I felt like crying. My stomach turned as I started cleaning the wound on his arm. With every dab and swipe, he moaned louder. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I hated the fact that I had to inflict more pain. Yet, I knew the wound needed to be cleaned and wrapped.

Confident the wound was clean, I used cotton to apply the disinfectant. Luckily, the wound wasn’t very deep. It appeared that most of the blood had stopped. I took a bandage and wrapped it just in case.

Moving to his side, I noticed the cut there was still bleeding. The sheets where he lay were soaked. Panic took over. I rose to my feet, wanting to scream. Pacing up and down, I bit my nails and tried to figure out what to do.

I quickly searched the kitchen and living area for his phone. Maybe there was someone I could call. But after scanning both rooms, I couldn’t find it. Returning to the room, I flopped down on the floor as tears started streaming down my face.

His eyes were still closed, and his skin was taking on a bleakish color. I knew I had to stop the blood. Grabbing the bottle of Saline and more gauze, I hastily cleaned the cut. As I was wiping the edge of the wound, his eyes flew open.

Anton looked at me, but he looked more like a ghost. He mumbled again, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I said nervously. “I’m trying not to hurt you, but I need to know what to do.”

He took my hand and smiled faintly before collapsing back to the bed. I felt his hand fall from mine. I had to get the wound closed, I thought, reaching for more gauze and some bandage. My hands were shaking as I tried to force the gauge over the wound.

When I was done cleaning and applying disinfectant, I heard him snoring lightly. Relieved that some of his pain had eased, I softly tried to wrap the cut. He was heavy, and I couldn’t get my hands in under him. Looking through the first aid kit, I found some large plaster.

“There would have to do,” I said to the sleeping man, grinning. I placed some clean gauze over the cut and added cotton before plastering him up. I had to use four plasters to ensure I caught his skin on all the sides so the plaster wouldn’t come loose.

After putting everything into the kit, I discarded the bloody and used items. I found some clean towels and sheets in the main bedroom closet. I pushed some of the towels under him to cover the sheets he was lying on.

It was just after eleven by the time I was done. I covered him with the clean sheet and sat down on the chair. Pulling my legs to my chest I hugged them as I stared at Anton. This would be the perfect time to escape, I thought. He was hurt. I felt sure he would sleep till morning. He would not even know I was gone until he awoke.

As I was about to get up, that little mingling voice inside my mind spoke. “What if something happens and he needs help? What if he died because you left him unattended?” My mind was filling so rapidly with questions that it started throbbing.

Getting up, I explored the safe house instead. I wanted to know my way around should I need to escape. I poured myself some orange juice, which I found in the fridge, and took a glass of water with me to the room.

I sat in silence, waiting for him to wake up. It was around three when I finally started dozing off. I was exhausted, and my mind started settling. As I slid down in the chair, getting comfortable, I heard him coughing and then groaned.

“Anton,” I said softly, kneeling next to the bed. He looked at me, his eyes a bit hazy. “Do you want some painkillers?” I asked as he tried sitting up. But he just slumped back to the bed, moaning and holding his side.

“Here,” I said, holding two tablets to his mouth. He opened it, and I pushed the tablets in. Holding up his head, I gave him water to swallow them. Lowering his head back down, he smiled faintly at me.

Placing the bottle of pills down next to the water on the nightstand, I wondered if they were for pain. It was the only bottle of tablets I could find in the first aid kit. But I had never heard of them before.

“You will have to move up a bit more, so you are in the middle of the bed,” I whispered, pushing his arm and leg lightly. “If you don’t, you might have more pain tomorrow. You are too much on the side.”

Anton shifted a tad and then breathed out heavily. “Sorry,” I added. My heart ached for him. He had barely moved when I heard him snoring again. Relieved that he was asleep, I added a pillow to the side of him. Lifting his arm gently, I pushed it in.

Sitting down, I checked my watch, it was just past five already. I wondered if I should quickly see if I could gather the last intel he wanted. This way, I could get out of here and stop worrying about him.