Chapter Two: (Aya) to the rescue!
(Aya) P.O.V
Instinct told me to move the beer carton to the front seat.
Seconds later, Dad came back to the car, carrying an injured boy that looked like he was my age in his arms.
(Aya's 14 in this fic.)
"Save yer energy now, don't fuss."
He said to the boy, who was trying to get away, like a fish in a net.
Gently, Dad placed the boy across the backseat.
"You don't mind having a stranger's head in your lap for a while, do you (Aya)?"
I shook my head.
"No." I replied.
As my father started the car, I observed the wounded boy that nearly became road kill.
He was like no boy I had ever seen before.
He had two-toned hair that stuck out at every angle, blue shark-fin designs on his face that must be tattoos, cause if it was paint, the rain would have washed it away.
And his clothes, well, they were different.
I couldn't remember the last time I saw someone wearing red gloves with sharp blades attached to them.
"Who would do something like this?" I wondered out loud.
My father snorted. "A sicko of some sort."
Suddenly, I heard a low groan.
I looked down and saw Mystery Boy open his eyes.
I looked up at my father, but he was too busy trying to drive without hitting anything, so I looked down at those brown eyes that were staring up at me.
He opened his mouth to speak.
"Where am I?" He croaked.
I smiled warmly at him.
'Poor guy, he must be scared stiff!' I thought.
"It doesn't matter, you're safe now."
He frowned. "But -."
I pressed a finger to his lips.
"Sh. Don't speak."
Then I got out my (clean and unused) handkerchief and began to clean the blood and water from his face.
Mystery Boy's eyes flashed with relief then closed.
As I delicately intertwined his fingers with mine, I could have sworn that I felt his thumb lightly brush against mine.
When we arrived home, my father carried Mystery Boy to a guest room.
"(Aya), go to the medicine cabinet and get some bandages, cotton wool and ointment please."
"Yes Dad."
I ran as fast as I could downstairs into the kitchen.
"No running, (Aya)!"
I heard my father shout after me.
I scoffed.
"Yeah, whatever." I muttered under my breath.
When I returned, my father accepted the medical stuff from me and handed me the guy's black top.
"Go and soak this."
I was about to protest, but when I saw all the cuts, scratches and bruises on the guy's chest, I decided to keep my mouth shut.
Again, I walked downstairs and entered the laundry to soak the shirt.
(Oh, and just for the record, her house is HUGE! It contains 3 floors. First floor is her garage, second floor contains a huge kitchen, dining room, living room and laundry, third floor contains five gigantic guest rooms, two master bedrooms (her room and her dad's), 4 bathrooms (including the ones in her and her dad's room), and an entertainment room, which contains a bar, a pool table, a dart board and a grand piano. Oh, and her attic is killer!)
As I began to soak the shirt, I gasped.
There was so much blood coming out, that it looked like I was trying to dye a black shirt red.
Blood red.
I shuddered as I rinsed it and put it in the dryer.
I ran upstairs when I heard my father call me.
"What did I say about running in the house?" He asked as I entered.
I sighed. "Sorry Dad. What did you want?"
"Can you help me with this guy? He keeps on moving when I try to treat his wound."
My father gestured to a long gash on Mystery Boys' chest.
I winced.
It sure didn't look pretty.
"Ok." I replied quietly.
I walked over to the bed and gently put his head in my lap.
I turned his gaze to mine as my father got a bandage.
Even though his face was emotionless, I could see the fear in his eyes.
With a fingertip I lightly traced the markings on one side of his face.
I saw a ghost of a smile on his face before he closed his eyes.
"I wonder who he is?" I whispered.
Unknown to me, my father stiffened.
'I know who he is, but I'm not sure if I should tell you just yet (Aya).' My father thought.
"Well, it's all done. Thank you for your help (Aya)."
My father said, securing the bandage.
"No problem. Is he going to be ok?"
"He's lost a lot of blood, but I'm pretty sure he'll pull through."
I looked at the wounded boy.
"I hope so. Poor thing."
"Hmm."
My father walked out of the room, taking all the leftover supplies with him.
I was about to follow, but hesitated for a moment.
Then, swiftly and gently, I kissed his forehead.
I picked up his blood soaked clothes off the floor and went downstairs into the laundry to soak them.
As I began to soak his jeans, I felt something in the pocket.
Curious, I reached in and pulled it out.
To my surprise, it was a beyblade and launcher.
I put the launcher on the dryer and took a better look at the beyblade.
It was pretty cool.
It was a royal blue colour and had a bitbeast.
A red phoenix to be exact.
Suddenly, I got the feeling I had seen it before.
But that's crazy, I've never met the guy!
Hell, I don't even know his name!
I put the beyblade next to the launcher and put the clothes in the dryer.