Elena decided to stay home the next day and checked over to see how Anton's arm was doing. She removed the sling from him temporarily and carefully looked over his still-healing limb. A slight pain attacked the area where the bone had protruded through his skin as she tried bending his arm, but it quickly faded away. Anton felt little to no strength in his arm, let alone his fingers, as Elena slowly straightened out his arm and asked him, "Do you feel anything?"
Anton sighed to himself and said to her, "No."
Elena placed his arm carefully into his lap and knelt in front of him, as she placed her hands on his shoulders and said to him, "Don't worry, Anton. These things take time, remember? You'll be able to use your arm again. You just have to give it a few more weeks to heal."
Anton said nothing and just stared at her with those dark brown eyes of his. He knew Elena was right, but even if or when he recovered from his injury, the hitman feared once again that he would never be half the killer he once was. What good would he be if he couldn't use both his hands to kill people anymore? Using a captive bolt gun would be no problem, but using a shotgun would be another. He refused to associate himself with using knives or any other bladed weapons, as theses methods were far too slow for a person to suffer. To him, death should be but a quick and painless matter.
Elena patted his right shoulder and stood up, as she said to him, "We'll try again some other time."
Just when she was about to reach for the sling on the couch next to him, Anton quickly grabbed it before Elena did and said to her, "I can manage this." The last thing he needed was to feel like a helpless weakling. Anton put the sling back over his neck and placed his left arm back into it, before he stood up and walked over to the window, ignoring the brunette woman and looking out at the isolation before him through the white lace curtains.
Elena looked at him sadly and sighed through her nose, before she picked up something from off the coffee table and said to him, "I'll fix you some eggs", before walking out of the living room.
Once she was out of sight, Anton turned his head and looked towards the direction of the kitchen, analyzing the tone of sadness in Elena's voice. She was only trying to help him and yet the hitman made her feel as though he had no use for her. He did not care how mild his belittlement of her was, and yet there was this uneasy feeling deep down in the pit of his stomach. Was it guilt? Perhaps, but even if he meant her no harm, Anton Chigurh would not allow himself to feel any remorse for his actions towards Elena.
Over the next two weeks, life continued on the same as it did for the hitman and the nurse. Every morning, Elena would go to work at the hospital, leaving Anton to spend most of his days alone at her house. During that time when she was out, the hitman would pass his time watching television or reading books. Although she had told him to take things easy, Anton secretly practiced moving his left arm for five minutes every hour whenever Elena wasn't home to hopefully strengthen his arm. Once a week, the two of them would go to the Gunderson residence for dinner, though Anton's perspective on Marge hadn't changed much since the first visit. Nevertheless, the hitman waited patiently for time to heal his wound.
One day, as he stood in front of the mirror shaving the rugged features of his face, Anton heard the voice of Elena asking him, "Have you always had that mole on your neck?"
The hitman paused for a minute, before turning his head left and asking her, "What of it?"
Elena, who was leaning against the bathroom doorway, shook her head and answered, "Nothing. I was just curious."
"You know what curiosity did to the cat, don't you?"
"Well, it depends on what kind of cat."
"Hmm."
The hitman looked away from her and ran the razor under the faucet, rinsing it off before returning back to shaving his face.
"So, what else do you do for entertainment around here besides family visits?" Anton asked her, not looking away from his reflection.
"Well, there's plenty to do in Brainerd, but personally, I like going to the bar every once in a while", Elena answered. "We could go there tonight after I get off work."
Slowly dragging the blade down along his strong, powerful neck, Anton thought over the idea and rinsed the razor under the faucet again. "All right", he said at last, continuing with his shaving.
Elena said nothing else and stared at him for the remainder of the time, looking him over as she tilted her head to one side. The hitman did not notice.
Afterwards, Anton set the razor down on the counter and turned the faucet off. He grabbed a towel to wipe the remaining shaving cream from his face and tossed it aside, before attempting to button up his shirt single-handed.
"Here. Let me do that", Elena insisted.
Anton did not protest and allowed her to proceed with helping him button up his opened shirt.
Elena left the last two buttons undone at the top and fixed the collar on his black shirt, but not before running her fingers down his neck to touch the small hairs on his chest. Her eyes avoiding his as she did so.
Despite the look of annoyance on his face, a strange tingling sensation filled Anton's heart when she lightly ran the tips of her fingers over his exposed flesh. Whatever emotion he was starting to feel, the hitman quickly brushed it off, as he gently grabbed at Elena's wrist with his right hand, his way of telling her to stop.
Elena blinked and lifted her head, her turquoise blue eyes staring into the dark brown of his, as she looked up at the apathetic expression on his face.
Upon realizing what she had done, Elena shook her head and said, "I...I'm-I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that." She lowered her eyes again, this time in embarrassment.
"I didn't say you couldn't", said Anton. His deep, authoritative voice spoke to her in a surprisingly gentle tone.
"No, but it's not professional of me", Elena told him, still avoiding his gaze as she finished buttoning him up.
Just when she turned around and was about to walk away from him, Elena felt herself being held back by Anton's hand still gripping her wrist. Feeling guilty for her action, Elena turned back to look at Anton, fearing that he might be angry at her, but all he did was stare at her for a minute, before he sighed to himself and said to her, "You don't have anyone in your life, do you?"
Elena blinked and looked at him sadly. "I'm not one for browsing, Anton", she whispered softly.
The hitman released his grip on her and Elena held her arms across her chest, looking at him with mist in her eyes, before she walked out of the bathroom and down the hall.
Anton stepped out into the hallway and watched Elena turn towards the direction of the living room. He heard the jingle of keys, followed by the sound of the front door shutting. She did not even bother saying goodbye. Was it because she felt she had embarrassed herself in front of him? That she had made a spectacle of herself by touching him? That was foolishness! The hitman knew exactly what Elena was trying to do and yet she, herself, had tried to deny it. All because she was afraid to admit her true feelings for him. He had seen that familiar look on her face only once before. The faint tint of blush to her cheeks, that passionate fire in her eyes. The fact that she had let her guard down for a brief moment was of no surprise to Anton. And yet, the hitman found himself strangely amused by the slight caress of his healer's touch. No woman had ever made him feel like that. Never. Anton looked down at his left arm and placed his right hand over where he had suffered a compound fracture almost a month ago. If it hadn't been for Elena, he might not even still be alive. And for that, he was grateful to her. He did not want to admit it, but he was slowly starting to have feelings for Miss Olmsted.
Later that night, Elena returned home and changed into a summer dress that matched the color of her eyes, before she and Anton headed into Brainerd for the night. They both went into the bar and sat down at a table. A friendly waitress came up to them with notepad and pencil in hand, and asked the duo would she could get for them.
"A bottle of the best damn beer you have", said Anton.
"Make that two", Elena added.
The waitress wrote it down and walked away to place their orders.
During that time while they waited, Elena sat there in silence with her head hung low, twiddling her fingers in her lap. Anton tilted his head slightly to the right, examining her with his eyes, as though he was trying to figure out exactly what was going on in her mind. Elena looked to her right and tucked a strand of hair nervously behind her ear, before slowly bringing her gaze to meet with his.
"Why do you avoid looking at me?" Anton asked her.
"I guess I'm still embarrassed about what happened this morning", Elena admitted. She lowered her eyes again and said to him, "I wasn't trying to make you feel uncomfortable or anything. I was just making on observation, that's all. I don't know how to explain it, Anton. When I'm around other people, I feel fine. But when I'm around you, I feel..."
Just when she lifted her head to look back up at him again, Elena saw that the dark-clothed man with the pageboy haircut was ignoring her completely, looking over to his right with a sort of irritated expression on his face.
"Anton?" Elena asked him.
"Those men are staring at me", he said, not looking at her.
Elena turned around and saw a group of just-turned eighteen year olds snickering to each other. The brunette young woman glared at them, before she looked back at Anton and said to him, "Don't worry about them. They're just a bunch of potheads."
The waitress soon returned with two bottles of beer and set them down on the table in front of them.
Elena opened up both bottles and handed one over to Anton. "As I was saying, they're just a bunch of potheads", she continued, taking a sip of beer. "Last month, I caught them smoking dope outside of the hospital building when they weren't suppose to. I reported it to Marge and she and Officer Lou took care of the rest. Unless it's caffeine, I don't support drugs."
"Smart girl", said Anton, looking back at Elena. "But I still do not appreciate the observation of them looking at me as if I were a freak."
"You're not a freak", said Elena. "Trust me, Anton. There are people here in Brainerd who are far more stranger than you."
"Name three", Anton dared her, taking a drink of beer.
Elena turned her head right and pointed to another end of the bar. "You see that red-headed woman over there?"
Anton turned his head left and saw a red-headed woman about ten years older than him playing a card game with two older gentlemen and a young blonde man. She wore heavy makeup and had fancy silver hoops in her ears. "That's Anneliese Erikson", Elena explained to him. "She came here about fifteen years ago and started out as a barmaid. One night, the owner challenged her to a game of poker and she won. Eventually, the two of them got married and Annaliese started making a reputation for herself. She comes down here every Friday night to play poker and wins almost every single time, hence why we call her the Gambler Lady. She's a bit eccentric, but her husband loves her for her free spirit and hospitality."
"Where is she from?" Anton asked her, looking back at Elena, who shrugged her shoulders and answered, "Somewhere south, I think. I wouldn't know. I never asked her."
As Elena took another sip of her beer, Anton looked back over at the Gambler Lady, who laughed with the older men at a joke the young blonde man had just told them. She glanced over her right shoulder and looked over at Anton, smiling as she waved at him. The dark-eyed hitman could have sworn he had seen her face before, though nothing came to his mind.
"The other two freaks in this town are Nathan, who sells fruit right across from the cinema, and the other one is-"
Wishing to change the subject, Anton looked back at Elena and asked her, "You ever go out with friends?"
Elena looked back at him and asked him, "Sorry?"
"You're having a hard time listening today, aren't you?" Anton snarked at her. "I said do you ever go out with friends?"
Elena paused for a minute, eying him suspiciously, before slowly shaking her head and saying, "No. In all honestly, I don't have that many friends." Elena set her drink aside and rested her arms on the table, before explaining to the hitman, "The closest thing I've ever had to a friend was my pen pal in Los Angles. His full name is Theodore Donald Kerabatsos, but I just call him Donny. I don't hear from him much anymore, but last time I did, he said he started taking bowling lessons with these two older guys: a hot-headed war veteran and a slacker who insists on being referred to as the Dude."
"'One generation passes away, and another generation comes; but the earth abides forever'", Anton recited.
Elena blinked at him, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Is that not what is says in your Bible?" Anton asked her with a slight smile, taking another swallow of beer.
"Yes, but somehow you don't strike me as the religious type", said Elena, giving him a suspicious look once again.
Anton tilted his head left and said to her, "I don't have to follow any religion to be a man of faith. I have my own set of morals and guidelines that keep me safe. There are certain rules I allow myself to follow. Rules that you could not understand."
"Are those rules you follow as vague as you are?" Elena asked him.
"Is that what you're asking me?" Anton asked her. "Are the rules I follow as vague as I am?"
Elena slapped her hand on the table and said to him, "You're scary, you know that?"
"In what way?" Anton asked her, looking mildly surprised.
"Whenever I ask you a question, you always tend to be cryptic about it", said Elena. "You're an emotionless snarker with a dead sense of humor and a personality just about as interesting as a frying pan."
The hitman said nothing, tilting his head slightly to the right, looking at her with vacant eyes.
Elena suddenly nodded her head and gave him a warm smile and said to him, "I find that strangely attractive about you."
Anton paused for minute, before he sighed deeply and said to her, "You have no idea what you're talking about, do you?"
Elena chuckled lightly and lowered her head in response. "I guess not", she said.
Anton said nothing more and turned his head left, looking away from her as he took another swig of beer.
Elena lifted her head back up and caught sound of an angry male's voice. Her smile melted, as she looked over Anton's right shoulder and saw a man yelling into his cellular phone, a half-empty glass of bourbon in his hand.
"Oh, my God!" Elena exclaimed.
"What?" Anton asked her, looking back at Elena.
The woman with fear in her turquoise eyes motioned her head to the left and whispered to him, "Look over there."
Anton looked behind him and saw that Elena was indicating to a man sitting alone at a table. Dark-haired with black circles under his green eyes, the man slammed his phone down on the table and finished the last of his drink, setting the glass down before placing a hand over his eyes, his shoulders shaking due to the effects of too much alcohol.
"That's Gordon Burrows", Elena explained in a hushed voice. "He's the mentally unstable father of a patient of mine."
"What danger is he to you?" Anton asked her, looking back at Elena.
The brunette woman did not answer him, as she opened her purse and took out a ten, placing it on the table. "I think we should leave", said Elena, standing up.
Anton stood up and blocked her path, causing her to bump into his towering height. "What are you afraid of?" He asked her, his deep voice sounding cold and authoritative.
Elena shrugged her shoulders and questioned him, "Who said anything about fear?"
"Excuse me!"
The hitman turned around and saw that Mr. Burrows was approaching them, his bright eyes lingering on Elena.
Anton stepped aside and allowed him to approach Elena, who looked at the hitman with a dropped jaw. "What are you doing?" She whispered desperately.
"Can I help you, sir?" Anton asked him, acting casual.
"Shut up!" Mr. Burrows shouted. He then looked at Elena and said to her, "I've been meaning to talk to you."
Cursing internally, Elena forced herself a fake smile and said to him in a friendly tone, "Hello, Gordon."
"So, tell me, Elena. How does it feel working with a murderer?" Mr. Burrows questioned her.
Anton kept a calm and serene demeanor about himself, while Elena paused for a minute and tried hard to maintain her weakening grin. "Gordon?"
"Don't act like you don't know, missy!" Mr. Burrows barked at her. "You know perfectly fucking well what I'm talking about. You've known it for months!"
Anton looked at Elena, who allowed her smile to disappear. "Gordon, unless you can lower your voice and talk to me like a normal human being-"
"No, no, no, no, no!" Mr. Burrows denounced her, waving his hand in rejection at her words. "I want to hear straight from you how it felt when you and those so-called doctors at the hospital killed my wife."
Anton looked at Gordon and asked him, "I beg your pardon?"
Mr. Burrows looked over at the unusual man with his left arm in a sling and said, "Who the hell are you?"
"It doesn't make any difference who I am", Anton told him.
"You married?"
"No, I am not."
"Well, whatever the hell your name is, I just thought I'd warn you that if you ever need a doctor, never trust your life with the likes of this cunt!" Mr. Burrows pointed his finger at Elena, who looked at him angrily.
"Gordon, we've already told you", Elena tried explaining to him. "Dr. Benedict gave Natalia only a month to live. Her passing away two weeks after being diagnosed with leukemia was purely a coincidence."
"Was it a coincidence when you took my daughter away from me, too?" Mr. Burrows questioned her.
The hitman blinked in mild surprise and looked back at Elena, her expression filled with annoyance. Loosing patience, Elena took a step towards the irate drunk and leaned in close to his face. "Gordon, when Natalia was lying on her deathbed, you made it very clear that you couldn't go on raising Sophia alone without her. You and Natalia both agreed to sign over parental rights to me, and while I've allowed you to visit your daughter, you never come around to see her anymore. I'm sorry we couldn't save your wife, but unless you start cleaning up your act and getting some serious psychological help, I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to take away that privilege."
"How dare you speak to me like that, YOU FUCKING WHORE!"
In that moment, Elena was caught off guard when Gordon's hand made contact with her face, slapping her hard and knocking her to the floor.
Anton grabbed Mr. Burrows by the front of his shirt and pushed him up against the wall. The bar went deadly silent.
Annaliese Erikson, who had been watching and listening closely the whole time, stood up from her seat and shouted, "Hey! What the blue hell's going on in my bar?"
The hitman ignored the Gambler Lady and looked on either side at the few people inside the bar. All of their heads were turned and their eyes were staring directly at him.
Despite there being too many witnesses, Anton decided to spare the lives of these innocent people and looked back at Gordon. "You will apologize to her and take back what you said or you can accept the consequences of your actions."
"And what if I refuse, huh?" Gordon mocked him. "You gonna shoot me? I don't see how you can accomplish that, you goddamn cripple!"
Anton released his grip on Mr. Burrows' shirt and looked away, sighing to himself as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. He flipped the coin into the air and caught it in his right hand, before lying it down on the table next to him. "Call it."
Elena stood up slowly on uneasy feet and looked over to see what he was doing.
"This is a fucking joke, right?" Said Gordon.
"No", said Anton. "Now call it."
The Gambler Lady walked over to Mr. Burrows and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Gordon, you're drunk. I really don't think you ought to tempt this man. Now, why don't I just give you a ride home-"
Before she could finish her sentence, Gordon Burrows brushed off Annaliese's hand and sat down at the table Anton placed the coin onto. "Where I come from, we only have one way of dealing with people like you", he said. Gordon placed his right elbow on the table and said to the hitman, "Think you're man enough to take on the challenge, coward?"
Anton said nothing, as he put the coin back into his pocket and took a seat opposite from Gordon, putting his right elbow on the table and interlocking his hand with Gordon's.
"Anton, don't!" Elena cried.
Before anyone knew what had happened, Anton had thrown Gordon's arm down hard onto the table in one swift movement. If it had not been for the disturbing, cracking noise of bones breaking and the sound of Mr. Burrows' screams of agony, the crowd would have thought nothing of it, instead of letting out shrieks of pure horror and terror. Elena was as equally terrified as the rest of them, as she placed a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from screaming.
"Oh, my Lord", Anneliese Erikson exclaimed, placing a hand over her beating heart.
With Mr. Burrows defeated, the hitman stood up and walked over to Elena, taking her by her arm and heading out of the bar.
"Anton, you could have killed him!"
"Yes, but I didn't."
"Anton, this isn't funny! Do you even know what kind of power he has?"
Anton ignored Elena and pushed her against the brick wall, cornering her. "Are you hurt?"
Elena shook her head and said, "No, I'm all right."
The hitman did not believe her, as he tried brushing her hair away from her face. Elena winced when his fingers lightly brushed against her skin, as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing an ugly bruise that was starting to form on her left cheek.
Just at that moment, a siren was heard. Anton turned around and saw a police cruiser pull up next to them. The window was rolled down, showing that Officer Gunderson was in the driver's seat. "Everything okay there, big fella?"