Oops. It's been a while. This chapter didn't turn out the way I thought. Huh. Rei sleeps an awful lot. Oh, well, at least I'm not making him drunk... yet.
R&R.
Chapter Six
Scaredy Cat
It couldn't have been long before sleep abandoned me again. Or, more accurately described, it was stolen. And not too gently either, might I add. The shallow calm dissipated only for an ugly, ugly ceiling to show before my eyes. I grunted when the pain returned, no mercy granted me. Which sadly seemed to be a recurring experience as of late. Blue eyes gave me a glare that could have cut ice and crushed metal, dragging me up by my arm.
''Hgh!''
My pathetic and not very useful outcry fell on deaf ears as Boris merely grunted at me. At first I wondered why he was there and I almost panicked, before realization sunk in and I understood where I was. Then I panicked for real. Something was wrong, I could feel it. But my tongue was still swollen and angry, so conversation wouldn't be a likely option. Not that I really needed to. The Russian might have been the conversation hater we all knew and loved him for, but his words couldn't have spoken half as loud as the look in his eyes.
''Whu arg wi gonnng?''
If he understood me or not, I couldn't tell. He said nothing as he dragged me to my feet, pushing me further for every step I didn't take. I was too busy forming questions in my head to notice just where we were heading to, but soon I felt the chill of the night tarnish my skin. Without further instruction he pushed me out of the very same window we had entered through, and I guess somewhere in his master-plan of escape he didn't count on my leg to yield. Or maybe that was his goal all along and that grimace on his face wasn't as much of annoyance as it was of glee.
Genius or not, the wet ground punched me fiercely in the face as I fell helplessly, rocking my brain like a hurricane had just hit it. I groaned, the pain in my body growing. But before I had time to turn around and hiss at him, he'd already climbed out a lot more graciously than I had and dragged me up on my feet again. In a way it was a scary metaphor. A man far away from my favourite on earth, getting me off the ground more times than I could count. Huh.
Speaking of days, which one was it anyway? Where were we and how long had I been asleep? If one could call it that, anyway. One look at Boris and I knew he wasn't likely to answer any questions. Too bad for him I didn't care.
''Whu arg wi?''
''We're in the slum''
Really now? Yeah, I sort of noticed that when people tried to make confetti out of me with a scalpel. He didn't even give me a decent glare, just pushed us on through the dark. All the time he looked on edge, like the slightest wrong sound or movement from around would send him sprinting. Which was about the scariest thought that had ever occurred to me. Boris, running. Absurd.
''Whugg?''
I tried my 'where are we going?'-question again, hoping he would understand at least my eyes if not my complete spewing of nonsense. Sure enough he did, answering me in the only way he could.
With a glare.
I decided to give up. My tongue wasn't cooperating anyway. And he wasn't exactly coming up with useful answers. The questioning would have to wait until I could speak properly.
We were walking around for what felt like years. My leg was throbbing and sizzling with the most vengeance I'd ever had cast upon me. Something felt wrong, and it wasn't the criminal who seemed more reluctant to be close to me than before, or the wounds that marked my skin. It wasn't that I was on the run from two gangs of psychos and it wasn't even the fact that Garland had abandoned the Sanity Ship.
No, it was something I couldn't quite place. Like the spinning way of the world and how my breath felt heavier than stones as I tried to breathe the fresh air. I had great lung capacity from all my years of exercising, yet I bet an asthmatic chain-smoker could've beaten me at a hold-your-breath-contest. My body was numb in an awkward way, currents of warmth and cold placing sweaty pearls on my skin. I blinked, knowing I couldn't go much further.
''What now?'' he barked as I put my hands on my legs to steady myself.
Now it was my turn to glare. Lungs contracted in pain, my chest oddly rigid, I probably wouldn't have been able to come up with a plausible answer if my mouth had been working.
It was probably just the strain, the stress, the fear. Let's face it, I'd gone through one hell of a roller-coaster of events in just a couple of days. It was only natural for my body to shut down, wasn't it? For some reason, a nasty feeling in my gut told me that was just a stupid lie.
Boris growled and muttered curses, shaking his head as if he reconsidered his decision to save me. When he looked at me, he seemed to see something I myself could not. And knowing that Boris knew something I didn't, something undoubtedly important, freaked me out.
''Bogni… whra..?''
''Shut up.''
I didn't argue. Couldn't find the strength even if I wouldn't have lacked the will. In a movement that spoke nothing of his own injury, he swooped down like a bird of prey and without any grace or care, threw me on his back. I gasped as he gripped my legs hard enough to make my skin whiten, cutting of the blood flow I desperately needed. It wasn't comfortable, it wasn't nice, it hurt like hell and it was beyond awkward. I was piggy-back riding Boris Kuznetsov.
If there is a God, he's damn good at hiding.
Without another word he began walking. Walking and walking, steps wide and fast, his shoulders digging uncomfortably into my chest. My headache increased and breathing wasn't exactly easier. In fact, I think it just got harder. But I said nothing, and so our journey continued. Through the cold night we went past building after building. Warehouse after warehouse, all the while paranoia gnawing at our minds.
His back never relaxed, I guess partially because of the strain on his muscles when he had to carry me – yeah, let's pretend I never said that – but also because he never dropped his guard. I hadn't noticed it at first, but my ears were constantly listening for anything out of place. Through the fabric of his jacket, Boris felt strangely warm and I guess I'd be lying if I said I didn't doze off a few times. If I lived to see my friends again, I would never speak of this incident out loud. But right now I can admit, I didn't mind it that much.
Then he had to ruin it all by opening his big, stupid mouth.
''You're getting fat.''
I barely resisted the urge to bite him in the ear.
Left in an awkward silence, save for my ringing ears and my stupid heartbeat, I caught myself wondering what we were going to do next. What would happen to me, but most of all, and the weirdest of all, what would happen to him. From the looks of it, it was safe to say Boris didn't have anyone. All his allies were probably thinking he had betrayed them and were out for his head. And if they by some miracle thought he was still an ally there was another group of madmen out for blood. Something inside of me sank, leaving me cold and strangely hollow. I swallowed the lump in my throat, but instead it seemed to grow.
He continued walking, silence swallowing us. I couldn't feel my arms or legs anymore, the pain so frequent it felt like it had grown a part of me. Yet nothing really mattered. I felt numb, isolated, alienated. Lonely. Which almost made me laugh because it was all so ironic. The reason I was even in this mess was because I had been lonely. And now, dying with no one but a cat as company felt way better than this.
But my thoughts dissolved into thin air when a wave of nausea pushed through me. My insides squirming and moving like they were going to jump out of my mouth. I must have flinched or tightened my grip around his shoulders because I could feel his glance through the pain. My breath came quick but short now, quick like a rabbit's feet on the run and the ringing in me ears only rose. I had never in my life felt such unbearable warmth, rising from my skin like fire. But the worst fire of all was that in my leg, which burned and throbbed in such pain I couldn't think.
I could hear him talking, but I couldn't make out the words. I think some of it were swearwords and curses, but more than that I couldn't hear. Breathing became the hardest thing I had ever done, and I sensed that somehow, Boris knew what was going on. I could feel him running, the pain growing for every shake his body gave as his feet touched ground. I was zoning in and out like a radio with bad reception, losing all sense of time and reality.
Soon it was only the pain, and the heat. Growing and growing and growing, suddenly the world felt enormously small.
''Kon? Kon?''
Something broke through the noise in my head. The sound of a thousand pots and kettles crashing to the floor in a big, empty room would have been sweet music compared to the symphony of pain playing in my head. I blinked, immediately regretting it as sharp light cut into my eyes. I groaned.
''Earth to Kon!''
I tried to open my eyes which stung from tears I hadn't noticed shedding. I furiously tried to hold them back, refusing to cry because I knew he would be there to see me. And under no circumstances would I ever, in my entire life, let him see me weep. I groaned again, hoping it would make it better. Somehow ease my pain or make me feel like I wasn't just sat on by a sumo wrestler.
A slap brought me fully back to awareness, and I had to blink a little in confusion before I realized what happened. Then he slapped me again.
''Heygh!'' I gurgled, glaring thinly at him.
Boris muttered.
''Shut up. Don't speak, don't move, don't be you.''
I glared hazily, feeling something cold behind my back I realized I was leaning against a wall. The air smelt fresh and wet, which meant we were still outside. After a moment I understood that the sharp light in my eyes had simply been a dim streetlamp. Boris was crouching in front of me, looking like he could eat me alive.
''I think you have an infection.''
Just like that. No sugarcoating, no smiling. Just the plain and simple truth. I was starting to seriously hate the truth. Boris looked at me, unyielding for anything and if it hadn't been for my stubbornness, I would have tried desperately to look away. He bit slightly on the corner of his lower lip, an unconscious action I guess as he didn't seem to notice doing it.
''If we don't do something about that things will get bad.'' He muttered, knowing I wouldn't bother even trying to answer him. ''The hospital will call the police so we can't… fuck…''
Questions rose in my head again, but my murdering headache shot them down like pigeons in the sky. I didn't understand why he was getting so frustrated, or why we couldn't go to the hospital. In fact, I was still trying to melt the whole infection-thing.
''Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..!''
He slammed his fist into the wall next to me, and I jumped in slight shock. Staring wide eyed and reprimanding at him, he refused to meet my eyes. I wanted to growl, but instead I got an idea.
''Gai!''
He looked at me like I was the idiot of the year, just to receive my award.
''Gai?''
''Gai! Wi gag go goo Gai!''
''Kai?''
I nodded fervently, drilling my stare into him. Yes, yes, the stupid block of muscle understood! Kai was the solution. If we just went to Kai, he could call someone. A private doctor, or maybe the police. Anything we needed, Kai would fix it. Why was Boris looking so reluctant?
''We're not going to Kai.''
His eyes darkened as he practically spat out the name. I had a hard time understanding at first but when I did, I just glared the darkest I could. Just because Boris was jealous that Kai stole his place in the spotlight every damn tournament, didn't mean I was going to let him ruin my chance to live. He could dislike Kai all he wanted. I was going to get treatment.
''Gai!''
''No.''
''Whgugh!''
''Say whatever you want, we're not calling Kai.''
I just stared at him. Horrified and enraged at the same time. Was he just going to let me die? In that case I could just crawl over to Kai myself. Which could be a problem since I couldn't move properly and I didn't know where we were and… yeah. I needed a plan.
Boris had started muttering to himself again. Swearing more times than I thought possible in one sentence, he finally glared at me like I was the root to all his problems. Which I was. But that's beside the point.
''I should just leave you here.''
My glare couldn't grow much darker.
''It's your fault, all of this. I don't know what I was thinking to save you, but I couldn't have thought much!''
He stood up straighter now, which alarmed me because I knew he could just walk out of there and leave. Unlike normal people, he had no conscience or heart. In the blink of an eye, Boris could leave me there to die. Which he probably wished he'd done from the beginning. I wondered why he hadn't, but trying to figure Boris out was the biggest challenge of all. Perhaps he'd just done it on a whim, perhaps not. Perhaps he was insane or just felt like it. I didn't have a clue, but I was certain he was going to decide now, once and for all, what to do with me.
''If you stay here to die I don't have you dragging me down. I can take care of myself, without you leaving fresh blood-trails behind. Yeah… that's a nice idea.''
I just got the more convinced by the look in his eyes. That hungry, predator glare which spoke of no warmth inside. His eyes were cold and dead and for a moment, I was truly afraid. But Boris' face took on the mask of anger, and before I knew it he began kicking at some poor old trashcan. Once he made sure it could no longer pass as a trashcan and was lying like a heap of metal on the ground, garbage everywhere, he pointed his murdering glare at me. I swear my skin tried to crawl off.
''Fuck you, Kon.''
And with that, he lifted me over his healthy shoulder, carrying me into the night. I understood nothing.
X
The hospital smelt funny, a mix of dread and loss with a tinge of antiseptics. I must have dozed off a few times because I had no memory of how we got there. I didn't know how far away from the hospital we had been or even the exact location of it, but I doubted Boris could have run the whole way there. Needless to say he didn't look happy on arrival, and he seemed even angrier when he saw how many people were already waiting for their turn.
But Boris wasn't one for standing in line, he was more the type of person that cut ahead. Still carrying me for some reason, he slammed his fist into the counter, scaring the poor nurse out of her wits. She looked in shock at him, a little bewildered at seeing his sweaty face.
''What… can I do for you?'' she stuttered when she finally got her tongue back, and I was glad she wasn't going to bitch about it. She probably didn't dare anyway.
''I'd like to buy some lollipops.''
She blinked.
''I'm sorry… what?''
''What the fuck do you think I want?! I'm at the damn emergency ward, ain't I?''
''Yes, well… but…''
''I want a damn doctor and I want one now!''
''Please, sir, if you'd just calm down…''
''Give me a fucking doctor!''
It was like watching a mother bicker with her much too unruly child. A child that would turn the room upside down if he didn't get what he wanted. Just why he got so worked up I didn't know, but I didn't count on him to have a rational explanation. Whatever it was, it seemed to scare the nurse to a point where she threatened to call security. Boris answered this by throwing her coffee cup to the floor, sending it shattering into tiny little pieces. People were staring at us by then, and I was starting to think this had been a bad idea.
''Sir, just calm down!''
He leaned closer over the counter, and I could see her glance nervously at me. At that point she was looking more than just mildly discomforted. I didn't blame her, having Boris that close to your face could do it to anyone.
''He's been shot. Now tell me nurse, what happens to a leg that is infected?''
She stuttered, staring blankly at a loss as for what to do. Boris didn't have to stare long before she called out in the speakers. Satisfied, Boris gave her a blood-grin before backing away. The relief in her eyes could not be measured.
He dumped me roughly on a bench, my body cringing in the hurt the impact brought. Sitting down beside me, Boris let out an irritated growl. I stole a glance at him, immediately pretending like nothing when he glared back. The heat, which I now suspected was actually a fever, only rose and my breathing came rabid and torn. I crawled into a little ball, the room somersaulting to a point where I felt vomit tickle my throat.
We didn't have to wait too long though, before a white coat appeared in front of us. I didn't even bother to look up, but I could bet my boxers Boris was already glaring the doctor to death.
''You are the gunshot victim?'' the man spoke in a raspy, overused voice, ringing strangely in my head.
''No, idiot, he is'' Boris snarled, but the doctor didn't sound convinced.
''Then sir, why are you bleeding?''
''You're the doctor, figure it out.''
A sigh.
''I'm making a check up on you too. But I heard something about an infection. This gentleman here..?''
I looked up through watering eyes, swallowing down the bile as I met professional, analyzing eyes. The older man tried a small smile, but I just dove back into my little ball when a certain rush of stomach contents tried to break free.
''Very well. If you follow me, the nurse will bring you'' this part sounded like it was directed at Boris. ''the papers to fill in.''
The Russian didn't sound happy when he snarled.
''Paper works?''
''Gunshot wounds are a serious matter.''
Something cold gripped my stomach. I knew this wasn't going to go quietly and smoothly. Gunshots meant the police, and the police for some reason agitated Boris. I on the other hand, felt relieved. Finally the men in uniforms would show up and I could forget all about this mess. But Boris seemed more than just reluctant. Maybe it was his criminal record, maybe they knew who he was and were looking for him. I didn't know, but I didn't care. I just wanted to go home.
''Come along with me, young man'' the doctor spoke, helping me to stand up.
I failed, the immense pain shooting through my leg sending me to my knees. I held a tight grip on his coat, not wanting to let go for all I was worth. But my strength was faltering, had been doing so for quite some time, but I just didn't want to be alone. I was afraid, scared shitless and going away from Boris... For some reason it felt like if I left that room… he wouldn't be there when I came back.
''Hee gom wig…'' I gasped. ''me''
The doctor frowned in question, before he glanced at Boris in dislike.
''I'm not quite understanding…''
''He – ig – gomig – wig – me''
The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. He obviously had no clue as to what I was trying to tell him, yet Boris seemed to understand. Muttering Russian curses he yanked me up by the collar again, steadying me against his shoulder as he glared at me.
''Speak to anyone of this and I will hurt you.''
X
For a moment there I considered taking him up on his offer. The doctor wasn't the nicest of men but at least he was gentle, speaking only when he needed a question answered and being careful as not to hurt me more than I already was. He didn't make the most disgusted of faces when he saw my leg, which I guess is a good thing. But after scraping and poking around for a while, he turned up with my life long nemesis; Mr. Needle.
Here was when the finesse ended. The needle entered my skin and I immediately flinched. The doctor just glared at me, and I knew, when he put the needle down and changed gloves, I was in for a mouthful. Sure enough, it didn't take long before he started barking at me. I couldn't hear half of it, but I knew he was mad enough to slap me if he'd been allowed to. But the part I did hear, was when he yelled at me for not coming to the hospital earlier.
After all, gunshot wounds are serious business and I was lucky it was only a superficial wound. If I hadn't come in earlier I probably would have lost my leg. By the end of his yelling I was too shocked to speak. Never mind that I couldn't, but all words were knocked out of me. When he started cleaning the wound and examining it closer, I made no movement at all.
Finally he had fixed it up pretty good. When he tended to my other wound, he went ballistic again. Muttering and cursing now, he almost reminded me of Boris. Luckily my other wound wasn't very serious and hadn't suffered an infection, but he still said something about antibiotics. I wasn't really paying attention when he stuffed my mouth full of antiseptic.
Finally done he turned to Boris, pointing at the bunk I was seated on, with a look that only a parent could have.
''You too. I know you're wounded and if you think – ''
Growl.
''I'm fine.''
''You're bleeding.''
More growling. The doctor glared.
''Do you want me to amputate that arm?''
Boris scoffed, glaring back just as intense, refusing to let the doctor go near him. I was relieved to be at the hospital, for the first time in forever feeling like I was safe. But Boris, he seemed more than just reluctant. And it wasn't just regular stubbornness, he was actually looking hostile. I gave him a curious look, which he blatantly ignored.And so a fight formed and escalated, and it wasn't until half of the room was trashed that the doctor gave up. When the whole thing was finally done, I was a prescription and a crutch richer, while my Russian partner in crime was in a worse mood than ever.
He seemed too impatient to get us out of there, despite the fact that the doctor didn't feel to keen on the thought of letting us go. He told us several times it was best to just stay at the hospital for a few days, in fact pushing us into a room, just to have Boris drag us out of there again. I think it took about half an hour before the doctor won, pushing me into the bed and ordering a nurse to set me up with an IV. Boris was bellowing, ostentatious and mad. He raged around with furious steps, like locked up in a cage.
I wanted to ask what was wrong, but I knew it wouldn't work. I just hoped the swelling would go down soon so my mouth could be of some use. Man, I missed solid food.
Boris refused to lie down, refused to do anything but pace and pace until he had driven me half insane. Every few minutes he would stare out the window, hiding behind the blinders. It was making me nervous, as it gave me the feeling that we should be on constant guard. Was he looking for Garland and his men? How would they even be able to know where we were? It was beyond me, and the feeling that Boris knew something I didn't only grew.
Frustrated, as soon as a nurse came into the room with a stack of papers in her arms, I snatched her pencil before she could even react. She gave me a surprised look, but smiled slightly in bewilderement.
''These are for you.'' Was all she said, before she placed the papers on the foot side of my bed and left.
I stretched for a paper, which was about the most painful thing I'd ever done, and began writing. As soon as I was done, I cleared my throat to gain the attention of the Russian. He glanced hatefully at me for a moment, then went back to ignoring me. I muttered, crumpling the paper into a ball before I threw it at his head. It hit him, which he wasn't too happy about, and satisfaction claimed me. But it only lasted for a moment, as Boris ignored it all and continued staring.
Now this was irritating me and I did not like it. I cleared my throat again, but to no avail. For being so easily aggravated, he was very good at ignoring you when he wanted to. I don't know for how long I sat making odd sounds, before he finally turned to growl at me in irritation.
''What?!''
I simply nodded towards the floor. He looked confused for a second, before his eyes drifted down towards the paper. Suspiciously eyeing it, then suspiciously eyeing me, he bent down and picked it up. He spent another couple of seconds to glare at it before he unfolded it, reading my little message. Meanwhile I waited in suspense, hoping the answer would be good.
But he just crumpled it up and threw it back at me.
''Hrggh!'' I protested when he turned back to the window again.
Once more, ignoring me.
''Hrrh! Bogni!''
It was no use. He was set on staring for whoever he was expecting to see running down the street. And as the minutes crawled by he never moved a muscle. If I hadn't known better I'd say he was dead.
After a while though, I got bored. Now, I knew the papers the nurse had given me were probably very important. But I couldn't care too much about that as I was determined to get Boris to talk to me. So I wrote the same message down, crumpled the note and threw it at him again. The little ball of paper only bounced against his head and landed in some faraway corner, where it lay forgotten. Yet again my plan was foiled.
So I repeated the procedure again. Then again. And again. Again and again and again until there were only three papers left, and Boris finally snapped. Turning around with blazing eyes, his fists were trembling so furiously it made me back a little where I sat.
''Stop doing that!''
It wasn't an order as much as a roar. A roar that most certainly would be ringing in my ears for days to come. He kept glaring at me, and it was kind of scary that I was getting used to it. Was that a bad thing? Whatever it was, finally Boris sighed and crossed his arms as a final act of defiance.
''It's none of your business.''
I glared, not able to accept that as an answer. The question on the paper had read 'What are you afraid of?', and now in hindsight I guess it was a stupid choice of words. Even if Boris would have considered telling me, insinuating he was afraid of anything was like popping the balloon before it had a chance to land. I sighed, leaning back against the pillow. Perhaps it was wisest if I tried to get some sleep.
Sure enough, it didn't take long before the painkillers and the antibiotics did their thing, blending with the exhaustion before I gave in to sleep.
X
When I woke up it had turned into day, and for a moment I wasn't quite aware of my surroundings. When the fog of sleep cleared though, I recognized the white colour that only hospitals were tacky enough to have. I didn't feel like moving just yet, so I spent a few minutes counting the cracks in the ceiling. My headache hadn't disappeared, and it was accompanied by the hunger pangs in my stomach.
But my tongue felt a little smaller, which I guess was a good thing. I was thankful it was a muscle, I didn't even dare think of how I'd survive being unable to speak for months. I just hoped my other wounds would heal fast as well. Yawning a little, I rubbed some sleep-dust out of my eyes before I moved to sit up. This was met by wild oppositions from my body, which clearly didn't like being moved whatsoever.
Pulling the covers over me a little more, I dared a look around the room. Saying that I was surprised to see Boris in it would be the understatement of the year. Saying I was surprised to find him by the window, surprised me even more. During some time when I was asleep he had found himself a chair, sitting on it so that he wouldn't have to stand during his watch. I guess playing guard dog was a little tiring, as he had fallen asleep. His head to the side, leaning against his healthy shoulder which was flung over the backrest of the chair, snores escaping his mouth and that irritated scowl upon his face.
I couldn't help it. I had to smile. Oh, if only I'd had a camera. I could make him pay for the rest of his life. However long that would be...
I swallowed down the depressing thoughts, and instead just focused on the moment. It was the first, calm, peaceful moment in days. In which I was in a warm, if yet hard, bed and the walls didn't smell of rotten wood. How long until Garland caught our scent? How long until they got to us? The hospital couldn't be as safe as it felt, I mean, logically, where would you look for a wounded person on the run?
I sighed. It was best not to think about it before breakfast.
Boris stirred a little where he slept, letting out a small, annoyed sigh. I couldn't keep my eyes from drifting to him, the man was like a damn magnet. I couldn't tell what was so fascinating about him either. The past days things had just felt different. Like they were changing. I'd never been too fond of him, especially not since our match. But I never really hated him, and spending so much time with him… I don't know. Things had changed. I just didn't know if it were for better or for worse.
During my musing he must have woken up, because next thing I knew ice-blue eyes were glaring at me. And not a little, either. I snapped out of my pondering, my heart taking a small leap at the look in his eyes. So much hostility in just one man. It was creepy.
''Seeing anything you like?''
I blinked. Pretending like nothing wasn't going to fool anyone. But I tried anyway.
''Oh, I forgot. You only speak in vowels.''
I glared. If only I could speak, I'd show him.
''Aw, did I hurt your feelings?''
Snorting I turned my head indignantly to the side. Forget everything I ever said. He was an asshole and I did not like him. As soon as this was all over with I was going to forget all about him. Or was I just stupid to think like that? What if it never was over? What if there was no solution to this? And if so, what would happen to him?
Not that I cared. It wasn't my life. I owed him nothing.
Oh, who was I kidding? I owed him my life. If we got out of this alive I was going to be in debt to him for as long as I lived. He knew that too. I could tell by the smirk on his face. Noticing I'd been looking at him again, I turned my head away as fast as I could. Damn him.
Maybe that was why he saved me in the first place. His revenge for my victory those years ago was to make me stand in debt to him, something he would take advantage of as much as he could. Damn him!
No. That was just insane. Boris was a selfish man. He'd never go to such length, risking his own hide just to mess with me. On the other hand, he was a psychopath, and no one ever knew with them…
The whole thing was giving me a headache. Lucky me I didn't have time to brood much longer about it. In the few seconds I'd been in La La Land Boris had moved over to the door, peeking through the doorway with more than just suspicion in his eyes. No, it was far more than that. He was alarmed.
This in turn made me worried. Something was wrong.
''Get ready''
That was all the confirmation I needed. Moving the fastest I could with an aching body, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and finally managed to get myself into sitting position. As carefully as I could I took off the IV, the little needle stinging as it left my arm. Not with as much finesse as I'd wanted, I tiptoed over to where he stood, trying to get a look of what was going on. Boris just pushed me back, grunting slightly as he did so.
''Bogni!''
''Shut up''
''Whaks wong?''
His answer was to put a hand over my mouth, backing closer to the wall. My heart was beating fast now, every sense I had telling me to run. Get out of there, fast. I could hear voices in the hall, along with the regular noises a hospital produced. Soon the beatings in my chest overpowered everything, drowning all other sound out. I was too damn close to him, and for more than a million reasons, that just felt wrong.
''Fuck'' he hissed and pulled back. ''It's the cops.''
