Chapter 9- Wounded

I arrived back to my room later than usual. Jacob's condition has improved a lot since yesterday, and I'm excited to say I believe he will make a full recovery. I'm exhausted, and since talking to Lusso in the medical wing yesterday, I haven't seen him at all. I hate to say, but I'm a little disappointed.

I shower, leaving my dark wet hair down to dry, then slip into shorts and a tank-top, my pajamas as of late. I'm about to throw myself on the bed with my TV remote, when a steady knock beats on my door. Last I checked it was 10:30-- there's never anyone in the halls this late.

I hesitantly open the door, and am utterly stunned at the sight in front of me.

Lusso stands in a dark sweatshirt, hoodie up. His usually vibrant, warm skin is a sickly shade, and his gaze is darting frantically around. Upon further inspection, I catch a glimpse of the look in his eye, and a shiver snakes down my spine.

He's like a wild rabbit in a trap, right outside the hunters door. He's scared. "Can I come inside?" his voice low and hoarse.

I stand frozen for a moment, then snap out of my shock and nod rapidly. "Yeah, of course." Bells are ringing in my head. Something is very wrong.

I shut the door behind us, turning the lock. "Lusso, what's wrong?" I ask, even more concerned when he doesn't say anything.

Instead of answering, he looks my in the eye as he lifts his hoodie. His torso is littered with deep sores, bruises, and wounds. My eyes bulge. Who could have possibly done this to him?

Though somehow it gets worse.

He pivots, revealing his bloodied back to me. Long gashed tear his flesh, wide and jagged. Scarlett blood drips down onto the waist of his sweatpants, and the revolting revelation that he has been whipped is beaten into my mind.

I lift my fingertips to his torn flesh, trying to distinguish one gash from the next. I fail. It's impossible to even count how many there are.

"Lusso," I whisper quietly, speechless.

"I got into a fight," he states blankly.

I come around to face him. "And they whipped you?" I frown. His story doesn't sit right with me.

"Yes." He nods down at me, and we both know he's lying. The intense sadness weighing on his beautiful features is unmistakable, and my questions are rendered irrelevant. "Can you fix them?" he asks desperately, his disheveled dark hair falling into his face.

"I don't have any of my supplies here, but I can clean them and bandage them," the hopeful and desperate look he's giving me is heartbreaking, and I'd do anything in this moment the take all his pain away.

He follows me into the bathroom, and I turn the shower water on lukewarm. When I turn back to him he's taking off his sweatpants. My face tingles with heat, and I quickly look away.

I have to help him step into the shower, his legs wobbling beneath him. Finally, I have him standing in the stream of the water. My tank top and shorts are soaked, and I'm eternally grateful I chose a black top instead of a white one.

"Lusso, I need you to turn your back to the water," I say over the water. He gazes down at me, water droplet dangling on the end of his hair. He's silently pleading for another option, knowing damn well this is going to hurt.

"I'm sorry. I have to get the blood off you, and I don't have any medical equipment here. I can run and get it if you-"

"No," he quickly cuts me off, then shifts so his broad back is in the heavy stream. He winces sharply, and I wish so badly I had gone to the medical wing to get painkillers for him.

I begin washing him gently, trying my best to not directly touch the slashes. But I catch my thumb in the edge of one of them, and a throaty groan erupts from Lusso. "I'm sorry!" I cry, hating myself for causing him more pain.

"Are you almost done?" he grinds out, obviously not handling this well.

"Yes, but the next parts worse..." I internally cringe.

I turn off the water, and hand him a towel. I dry myself, then help Lusso as he was struggling with his backside. I grab the rubbing alcohol I stashed under my sink, and lead Lusso to lay out on the bed.

Climbing next to him as he lays on his stomach, I steadily pour the alcohol onto his wounds. He tenses violently, then reaches out and grips hold of my idle hand. He holds tight, then locks eyes with me before nodding his head to continue.

I finish cleaning, then gently wrap him in bandages. When I'm satisfied with my work, I sit next to him on the edge of the bed.

"How'd this happen Lusso?" I plead with him.

He sighs. "That doesn't matter now."

The want to sooth him eats me alive, so I do all I think I can. I wrap my arms around him, extremely cautious not to apply any pressure onto his back. He tenses for a moment, and I'm worried he thinks this is awkward or I'm being weird. But then he relaxes against be, resting his head on top of mine. He even loops an arm around me, and in his weaken state still manages to pull me towards him.

"Thank you, mia Bella," he mumbles into my hair. I sigh, perfectly content at the moment. "Mi sei mancato," he says even quieter. I want to ask him what he's saying, but I don't want to ruin the moment.

I'm trying really hard to remind myself that he's the bad guy, he took me and possible killed my neighbor. I'm supposed to hate him. It's just so hard to force the thoughts into my head when he feel so damn familiar.

He feels so much like home.