Page 4 of Scar

Her eyes assess me before she closes the medical box. “Well, I don’t think I would be so cheerful if I was in your situation.”

I lean back, stretching out. “Shit.” I groan in pain, and concern flashes in her eyes. “I’m okay,” I wheeze. “So, tell me why the special visit?” I ask.

“Special visit?” she counters, raising her brow.

“Yeah, it’s daytime. You let in some light, and you don’t seem so jumpy,” I explain.

“Oh.” She smiles, tucking her hair back behind her ear. “Um, everyone is out. Well, they’re away actually, for the weekend. So, I figured I could make things a little easier for you while they’re not here.” There is no one here but us. I could get out of here and run, but then I would put all the club in danger, the ol’ ladies, the kids. Fuck, I couldn’t do that to them. If I am to get out of here, it needs to be with Eugene and his men dying. There is no other way. “I know you could escape right now if you wanted to,” she points out, as if reading my mind. “But I also know that if you did, he would stop at nothing to seek redemption. I don’t know if you have a wife or kids, but I know he would go after them. He would take the things you love and destroy them, just to break you,” she warns.

Gazing into her eyes, I can see deep emotion and worry there. “I won’t be going nowhere,” I assure her. “Not right now, anyway. I ain’t stupid enough to risk their lives,” I answer truthfully.

She gives me a small smile before her eyes suddenly widen and she jumps to her feet. “I nearly forgot,” she says as she disappears over to the other side, picking up another box. She walks back over and drops to her knees. I watch as she opens it and hands me a bunch of pouches.

“What the fuck are these?” I ask.

“They’re protein pouches. I have noticed you are losing more and more weight and well, if you are going to keep standing up to Layton, then you will need your strength,” she says beforepulling more out from the box. “Here is some soap and a wrench,” she says as she places them down next to me.

“What in the fuck would I want with soap and a wrench?” I ask, staring down at the odd combination.

She places the box down and stands. “Ah.” She smiles and holds her hands out to help me up.

I push her hands away. No way am I having a tiny little thing like her helping my ass up off the floor. She huffs and rolls her eyes, like she knows exactly why I won’t accept her help. I manage to make it to my feet and follow her into the bathroom.

“There’s a sink and a toilet. How am I supposed to shower?” I ask. She holds up her finger to signal me one moment before she reaches around for something and pulls it out. A hose and shower head. She uses the wrench to show me how to attach it to the tap.

“Taa-daa, shower,” she gestures.

I start stripping off, ignoring the pain each movement causes. It may be a cold trickle shower, but damn, I can’t wait to stand under it.

“Oh, um...” Elsie blushes, holding out the shower hose to me as she looks away. I take it, but as I try to lift my arm up, pain shoots through my ribs.

“Ah, fuck!” I hiss. “Sweetheart, you’re going to have to hold the shower up for me. I can’t lift my arm,” I tell her. She turns around while keeping her hand over her eyes and blindly reaches forward, trying to grasp the shower head. She reaches out again, but this time her hand lands on my dick and her hand wraps tightly around it as she tries pulling up. “Shit,” I hiss. “Er darlin’, that ain’t the shower hose,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Huh?” she asks, peering over her hand. Her eyes go wide when she sees what exactly she is holding. “Oh my god! Oh my god!” she says panicked, while still holding my now semi hard dick in her hands.

“Darlin’, unless you plan on finishing me off, could you release my dick?” I ask, feeling amusement for the first time in months.

She drops it immediately and holds her hand away from her. I move the shower hose to her hand that just held my dick. “There, all clean,” I say. “Hold it up, darlin’,” I instruct, but she’s still stood there with a look of horror on her face. “Sweetheart, can you hold the shower up for me?” I repeat.

She snaps out of her thoughts and nods. “Right, yes, um.” She pauses, looking around. “I know,” she says and I turn to see her climbing onto the toilet, standing on the rim of the seat so she’s taller than me. I smile and stand under the shower.

“Do me a favour. If you’re standing up there, don’t go and close your eyes or you’ll fall and hurt yourself.” I hold my hand out for the soap. “You got the soap?” I ask. She places it in my hand and I scrub my body as much as I can before I use the soap to wash my hair and now full fucking beard. I finish up and realise there is nothing to dry with, so I start to put my old clothes back on.

“Oh wait, I got you a new belt. I noticed that your jeans are starting to fall off from where you’ve lost so much weight,” she says.

I turn off the taps and she jumps down off the toilet. I follow her in nothing but my jeans, while having to hold them up so they don’t fall down. She hands me a belt and I quickly take it and slide it on.

“Sorry, I could get you more clothes, but then they would figure out that I am bringing you stuff,” she apologises. Her eyes roam over my body, sympathy flashing through them, probably from noticing all the black and blue bruises on my body.

Once dressed, I ease myself back onto the mattress, and Elsie sits there with the box, handing me out more things. “There are more candy bars, and also this...” She hands me a small switchblade, and I raise my brow at her in question. She eyes me for a second. Both of us know I could use this to escape. “That is for cutting open the mattress and you can stuff it with the things I give you, so they don’t catch it.” She smiles.

I look down at the blade, thinking how easy it would be for me to just hold this to her throat. Not to hurt her, I would never hurt her, but just to scare her enough so I could get the fuck out of here and back to the club, back to sleeping in a bed. Just to see Rhea, even though I know she’s not mine.

As if sensing my thoughts, Elsie clears her throat. “If you leave, I won’t stop you. You can go, but if you do, can you at least hit me? Make it look like I tried to stop you,” she states softly.

I look into her eyes, seeing that she’s deadly serious. “If I run, he won’t stop coming for my club and family. I can’t have that,” I sigh. Just because it’s the right thing to do for them, doesn’t mean that every part of my body isn’t itching to run.

Elsie frowns at me. “You have a chance to run, but you won’t because you are worried about what would happen to your family?” she asks, a look of confusion on her face.

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