Chapter One- A Doodle that Can't Be Undid
"No, Rukes, naw," Renji held his head in his hands, the sides of his face scrunched up by his fingers as he rubbed his temples, looking worriedly at the woman sobbing opposite him.
"I-I don't-"She choked out, but stopped again as her chest heaved and the words were stuck in her throat. "I don't know what I'm going to do." Renji got up and walked behind her. She felt a mild sense of comfort as two large arms encircled her, but the tears would not stop falling down her cheeks. It wasn't like her to cry, but this was an exception. She had just been accepted into the top school in the country for medicine, for Christ's sake. She looked down at the white thermometer-shaped instrument she was holding tightly in her fingers, her thumb rubbing along the screen as if it could rub the life-destroyer of a miniature light blue plus away.
"Sorry, kid, this is just one doodle that can't be erased."
"What am I going to do, Renji?" She cried, covering her face with her hands. He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed the top of her head tenderly.
"I don't know, Rukes," He withdrew his arms and knelt beside her, letting out a deep breath before looking up at her with earnest eyes. She turned her teary eyes and looked into his, waiting for him to say something. She sensed some hesitation as he coughed slightly. "Look, I told you from the start he was trouble. I warned you to-"Rukia held out a finger to stop him, unable to force out any words to voice her disapproval of the topic. Taking the hint, Renji continued carefully. "I want you to know that you can count on me, okay? Forget him. He's not coming back. Why don't you come and live with me, Rukes? I'll take care of you, you know that." He reached for her hands but she pulled them away. Slightly confused and disheartened at the rejection, Renji waited whilst Rukia dried her tears with the back of her hand.
"Um, Renji? I really appreciate you being here and all, but I'd like to be alone for a bit, is that, uh, alright with you?" She rubbed her reddened eyes, unable to maintain eye contact with him. Renji nodded and got up.
"Call me," He said softly as he ambled away. Rukia lay her head on the table, thankful that the clinic café had only her in it. Getting a packet of tissues out of her handbag, she wiped her moist cheeks and breathed in deeply, exhaling equally slowly. Trying not to think about anything, she gathered her handbag and used tissues and headed out of the hospital.
What would she do now? Abort the child? She couldn't do that. It was more than a child… It was a part of someone she loved who she might never get back. Her hands curled protectively over her womb, as if she was shielding the baby from unknown dangers. She couldn't let anyone know, especially her brother. She had brought shame to the prestigious and high-held Kuchiki name, and she would undoubtedly be forced to abort the baby without any commotion. No, she couldn't have that. But this wasn't something she could do alone, and she knew it. Renji had offered to help her in more ways than one, but living with him? She knew he saw her as more than a friend, but the feeling was not mutual. Plus, she was, technically, engaged to the father of the child. The father whom her child might never see awake, she thought sadly. She unconsciously touched the cold, smooth surface of the silver ring on her fourth finger, running her thumb over the small diamond and faintly recalling the sweet joy she had felt when he proposed. Tears welled up in her eyes again and she forced them away, refusing to go back to the past. Clasping her hands tightly in front of her, she walked slowly down the empty road.
Just as she was about to turn into the road with the apartment she lived in, she heard a faint panting behind her as well as labored footsteps. She had no time to react as she was tackled into the shadows by someone. She tried to scream in protest but a large hand clamped over her mouth. She could feel his wide chest heaving behind her and his short and quick breaths. She eventually stopped her failed attempts to pry his hand away for he had a firm and unmoving grip. Suddenly, she heard shouts on the road by people just out of sight.
"He's around here somewhere, get him!" A man dressed in a black suit yelled. A group of about five men followed suit, waving large metal rods. Rukia held her breath as she watched, praying that she would not be found with the man holding her captive. The man who was, presumably, who they were looking so desperately for.
Eventually, the group of men passed and Rukia let out a long breath against the hand. With a shock, she realized that the hand was no longer pressed against her skin and there was the heavy weight of his arm on her shoulder. Jumping back away from him, she crawled backwards across the dark street, not tearing her eyes away from her assaulter. He was a man who couldn't be older than she was, without a shirt or shoes and just a pair of black pants. Blood was running down his arms and the side of his cheek and his head was bent forward slightly. He also had a head of ridiculously bright orange hair. With a start, she realized that he was unconscious.
"Oh my god!" She rushed over to him and shook his shoulder, placing another two fingers on the pulse on his neck. She breathed a sigh of relief when she determined his pulse was normal. He grimaced as she tried to hoist him onto her back, but she collapsed under him with a startled cry.
"Dammit, get up, will ya?" She heaved again and managed to sling his large body over her back, standing tremblingly to her feet and lugging the man behind her. Rukia had always been strong but the events of the day had taken their toll. With the man's feet dragging on the road behind her, she made her way up to the apartment, thankful there were lifts instead of stairs.
With a huff, she dumped the overgrown thing on her sofa and went into her bathroom, taking out the necessary equipment. She set to work on the man, who stayed unconscious, but occasionally flinched and let out a moan of pain as she dabbed alcohol over his fresh wounds. She noticed some blood staining his shirt and began to undo the buttons. She inhaled sharply as she saw the cause of the bleeding: a bullet lodged in the side of his chest. She breathed in and out slowly to compose herself, trying to focus on the task at hand. The blood was everywhere and it was bringing her back to a night with her knees against the ground, her hands covered in blood…
She drove that image out of her head. She had to help him or he might die. With a pair of metal tweezers, she began to try and release the bullet from the wound.
"No," the man choked out, his face contorted in pain, pushing her hands away limply.
"Do you want to live or not?" She said firmly and he winced as she continued, heaving in ragged breaths. After two hours, she had successfully bandaged the wounds. She got up and poured herself a glass of cold water, relishing it as she collapsed against the fridge, exhausted. After a while, she walked up to the man, careful not to wake up. He was resting with his head against one of the couch pillows, his hand across his stomach. She bent down, examining his face carefully.
He was badly bruised at his temple, where one of the metal rods must have struck him, and she had noticed several marks across his back where he had been struck repeatedly. The dangerousness of the situation suddenly struck her. There she was, alone in her flat with a baby developing inside her, with a giant man who was potentially a convict passed out on her couch. She contemplated giving Renji a call, but then decided against it. He would have shoved the man back out the street, and somehow, Rukia felt like she wanted to protect him. What had made her rescue him anyway? She studied him again. He had soft eyelashes and strong features, yet there was a fragility to him. He looked strikingly similar to... She pushed the thought out of her head again, begging herself to stay in the present. She couldn't afford to be vulnerable now.
Rukia went into her room and locked the door behind her. She crawled into bed, her head heavy with thoughts. It wasn't long before she fell into a deep slumber. The bruised and broken man on her couch was a problem for the morning.