Page 46 of The Ripper

I saw red.

A lot of red. A sea of blood worth of red.

I was already on the verge of breaking, but seeing that threw me into the void and turned me feral. If my hands weren’t already busy, the motherfucker would have already been a piece of bleeding meat on the floor.

~ Soon.

“Uberi svoi gryaznye ruki ot neye[5],” I shouted, and he removed his hand immediately.

Arella gave the man a dirty look, then continued on her way until she reached us. She fell to her knees next to Klaus, and she didn’t even look at me as she checked his pulse, listened to his breathing, then turned on the flashlight on her phone and carefully opened each of his eyes, brushing the light across his pupils.

“We have a medical room here,” I blurted out.

She looked at me briefly, then turned towards Boris.

“Hey, big guy,” she shouted, “how about you make yourself useful and help Grimm carry him to the infirmary?”

I grinned. I liked it a little bit too much when she entered this state and fearlessly bossed people around, and I couldn’t wait for her to do it with me.

~ You’re going to regret this.

“Grimm,” she raised her eyes to me. “We need to get him there, which means you need to take your hands off and help carry him,” she spoke softly, almost as if she understood my pain.

No, not almost. She definitely did.

“He’ll be alright, I promise.”

I nodded frantically, and she muttered something in Spanish that I couldn’t hear properly.

When I removed my hands from around the blade, more blood poured out, and I was ready to lose it.

Boris and I picked him up and made our way to the infirmary, her footsteps following close behind.

I didn’t want to know what she was thinking when we sat him on the bed, since the infirmary was small and probably not what she was used to. The equipment was rather old, most of it stolen over the years. The walls were covered in white tile, and there was one small bed, a few cabinets that carried all the utensils, a sink with a mirror above, and some chairs.

“Okay, I can work with this,” she said as she looked around for a moment, searching for the things she needed.

Arella went through the drawers and pulled out everything she needed, sterilized the utensils, then went to the sink and began to wash her hands up to her elbows, as she’d done earlier at my place.

“Do you have any blood here?” she asked as she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.

“No, but I have the same blood type as him. You can take it from me.”

“You have also lost quite a bit of blood tonight,” she bit her lip, moving closer to examine the wound.

She kept her hands up as she lightly bumped her knee into my leg.

“It’s ok, Grimm. You can let go now.”

Her voice was so soft, so kind, ridden with so much empathy that I felt as though I was about to explode with awe, and I swallowed audibly before finally stepping back.

Arella started working so fast that I could barely keep up with her movements. She cut his shirt in half to reveal the damage, then pushed her fingers down around the wound, slowly palpating. She bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment, seemingly uttering a silent prayer, then she wrapped her fingers around the handle and steadily removed the knife, throwing it on a tray next to her.

She cursed in Spanish — again — when blood gushed out and splattered over her T-shirt and legs. More cursing, this time in English, and I couldn’t believe my ears as I watched how she tried to stop the bleeding.

“Come on,” she spoke through her teeth, then released a breath of relief.

He still bled, but not as abundantly, and she began to stitch him up, her hands moving with ease, steady, unhurried. When the wound was closed, she tied a wide rubber band around Klaus’ bicep, then found a vein and plunged a needle attached to a tube in it.

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