Page 14 of Darker Shades

The creak of the door pulls my attention, and I don’t miss the immediate cower from the others. We’ve all been through enough today, and I’m not sure any of us can take it anymore.

But it isn’t one of them.

It’s Reed.

And he’s bleeding.

He stumbles in and shuts himself inside, or rather he slumps against the wall, out of sight of the window. Blood trails down the side of his face from a nasty cut on his cheek and above his eyebrow.

I’m drawn to him as he looks around us all. Or rather, a part of me feels the pull to help him. I look back down at Miri. Her eyes are closed, and I can’t tell if she’s pretending – hiding away – or exhausted from the ordeal.

I sit up on the bed and look at him. He’s staring right at me now, so I ease myself off the bed and place my foot gingerly on the floor. Sadness shines in his eyes as he watches me limp towards him. Or at least, I hope that’s what he feels.

Too many times have I looked to him for help and my silent pleas have gone unanswered. He’s not the one in charge. I know that, but I’m still working out his role and our final role in this nightmare.

Carefully, I lift my hand to his face and twist it back and forth to look over the damage. His eye is swelling, and there’s bruising over his face, but it’s the cut on his cheek that’s causing the stream of blood. It’s deep.

As I’m inspecting the damage, his hand sweeps to my face, and his thumb grazes the bruise that still mars my cheek. My breath catches at his gentle touch – the only thing that’s been gentle since we arrived. And again, I have to ask myself if this man is like the others. And even if he’s still the enemy, could he be the weak link? The one that might slip or present an opportunity that means salvation for Miri and me?

“Is there somewhere I can clean you up?” My words are a whisper.

His eyes narrow a fraction, but he doesn’t look angry. “You speak English.”

I nod and glance over my shoulder. Miri is still on the bed.

“Is she okay?” Reed asks. All of my weight is on my right leg, my toe bracing on the floor to keep my balance. I nod again, keeping my eyes on her. I’m not sure if I want to lie or tell the truth – make him see the pain he’s caused or at least helped to inflict.

“Come.” He grabs my hand and supports my weight as I twist and follow him back out the door. My heart pounds in my chest as I leave Miri on her own, but I hope nothing worse will happen tonight. We’ve rarely been separated, but if I’m to figure a way out, this might be my chance.

We sneak out through the dark hallways and up a flight of steps. I’ve been this way before – it leads to the club area, but we turn along another corridor with nowhere to go.

“Where are we going?”

“You won’t be found here.”

Reed pulls out his keys, and I frown. But then I see it – —the outline of a door hidden within the décor of the corridor. He pushes the key into the painted over keyhole and turns the lock. The door pushes open, and he holds it for me as I ease past as best I can without putting pressure on my foot.

The room’s dark, and there’s a chill in the air as if it hasn’t been disturbed for days. All the light vanishes as Reed closes us in, and for a moment, I question my gamble.

“Nobody knows this is here. Apart from Jamie, and she doesn’t have a key.”

Light illuminates us, and I see he’s turned on the switch on the wall. It’s not just a room but a small, open-plan apartment. Minimal furniture. Minimal lighting.

“Bathroom’s this way.” He looks at me but keeps his head tilted down as if he’s thinking over a problem he can’t solve.

He pulls a cord, and the light over the mirror blinks on as he rummages in the cupboard under the sink and pulls out a box of supplies – a first aid kit of sorts.

I open the box and set it on the toilet seat.

“Sit.” I point to the edge of the bath, and he plants himself.

I rinse a cloth under the warm water and use it to clear some of the blood away. As I rub the fabric across his skin, I’m careful to keep away from the open wound. This close, I can count the number of eyelashes that frame his coal, dark eyes, but focus on the injury. The nasty ripped skin looks painful and angry. Just like the throbbing in my foot.

My hands shake, so I take a breath to calm my nerves. I feel his gaze on me as I keep working, and his eyes attract me like a magnet that I fight.

“This might leave a scar,” I admit. Although, I don’t know why I say that. Maybe I'm just trying to break the tension – make a connection.

I go to the first aid kit and take out the antiseptic cream but think against it. There aren’t any butterfly plasters, so take out the larger sterile gauze. My eyes scan over the packet of painkillers, and I shove them into my back pocket.

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