(I do not own anything except my characters!)
I'm gonna change up the perspective and POV throughout this story just to help keep things interesting.
Chapter 6
(First person, Katrina)
Slowly I open the closet, curious as to what happened just now. As I open the door Thomas's eyes lock on me from where he sits on his bed, rising to his feet he approaches me and picks me up once again and places me back on the bed before heading towards the door of his bedroom and locking it.
"…was that your mom…?" I ask quietly.
He nods and kneels before me as he removes my boot from my injured right ankle.
Placing the boot aside he removes my sock, taking in the purple bruising around my ankle as he gently cups the heel of my foot as he looks up at me, placing his other hand on my ankle gently. He removes his hand from my ankle and does a rotating motion with it, asking whether or not I can move it.
"…yes I can move it.." Slowly I rotate my ankle, hissing in pain from the injured muscles being used.
"…see…?"
He nods and rises to his feet and reaches for the nightstand beside his bed as he pulls open the drawer which is full of various items such as folded up papers, small blades and medical supplies.
I watch as he grabs some gauze and wraps it around my ankle to compress and control the swelling.
"…Thank you…"
He nods to me in response.
"Where will I be sleeping…?"
He shrugs.
"I'm sure I will have to stay in here though…"
He nods.
Looking over his mask, I begin wondering.
"Why do you wear that? Can you take it off?"
He shakes his head and moves his hand towards my face as he slowly strokes my soft skin, seeming to like the feel of it as he pulls his hand back and touches his own skin exposed outside of his mask as he gives an angry, depressed look in his eye to her as he feels his own skin.
"…you don't like the way your skin feels…?"
He nods as he rises to his feet and goes through the drawer again, pulling out a paper that he hands to her before sitting down at the end of the bed, a bit away from her.
Looking over the paper, it seems to be some kind of informative paper written by a doctor, as it has the patient name: Thomas Hewitt, age and date of visit and examination as well as a doctor's signature on it.
Some writing on the page in small notes give the information that he had tendencies towards self-mutilation and that he also had mental deterioration.
Thinking about the last information read, I highly doubt the mental deterioration is a complete fact, as he seems very intelligent as far as I know. It might just be an unsure opinion or idea.
Reading through the information given, there is a small note at the bottom of the page.
'Degenerative facial disease birth defect.'
"…degenerative facial disease…?" I read aloud, looking at him as he nods at my words.
"…So your skin deteriorates…?"
He nods again as his hand reaches out to my face, gently running his fingers along my cheek, feeling butterflies in my stomach at his touch as I close my eyes. He seems to get the message that I am enjoying his touch as he gently cups my cheek, gently running his thumb over my face.
Suddenly a noise ruins our little moment, a noise that causes me to open my eyes and realize what it is coming from…my stomach…as it growled due to my hunger.
My face brightens into an intense red as I look away from him, knowing he is smirking at my embarrassment.
"…yeah yeah yeah…I'm still hungry…"
He gets off the bed and picks me up and walks over to the closet, opening it he gently places me inside it, moving one hand up he gives me one finger as if saying 'I'll be back in a minute' as he closes the closet door.
I listen as his heavy footsteps become distant as I hear a door unlock and open as his footsteps become even more faint until I don't hear a thing at all.
Gently rubbing my ankle, my mind goes back to the feel of his rough, large hands on my skin as well as the gentleness he has shown me since we met…is he like this with everyone?
Looking around in the dim-lighted closet from the dying light bulb, I spot a small separation in the wall behind some items in the back of the closet.
Dragging myself over to it I push aside the objects and discover a small square cut out of the wall, it seems to be some kind of hidden door or something…
Using my nails to pry open the opening I don't get anywhere…
I begin looking around for an item I could use to open it and I spot a metal hanger near it, using the hook of the hanger I pry open the entrance and discover a small hideout, causing my mouth to open in awe.
"…woah…"
The hideout is less than the size of his bedroom dramatically, as the hideout is very tiny and has collections of deteriorating, aged stuffed animals and drawings put up on the walls inside it.
Slowly I crawl into the space as I pick up one of the stuffed animals placed in a corner of the room, the entire room is child-styled as well as the drawings seem to have been drawn by a child around the ages of 6 through 17. Maybe this is where he used to go whenever he wanted privacy as he grew up? Does the rest of his family know about this? I highly doubt it because of how well hidden it was…I'm sure if they knew he wouldn't have covered up the entrance.
Looking down at the stuffed bear covered in dust and dirt, I gently wipe the dirt and dust off its face as its stitched on little smile smiles up at me, causing me to smile.
Suddenly I feel something touch my shoulder, causing me to spin around fast, rising to my feet an intense pain shoots through my ankle as I place pressure on it, causing me to cry out in pain, only for a hand to cover my mouth just before I do so.