Captor, Savior, Murderer (2/3) || Reyin

Much too carefully, the man pressed his slender hand against my shoulder and pushed me onto my back. I gasped, wary of how delicate the touch had been, as if his intent wasn't to harm me. I didn't believe it. 

The man opened my garments, exposing my lean abdomen, and pressed a damp cloth to the surrounding area of my wound. My stomach sank from the pain, and it was so distracting that I couldn't ask if the towel had been sterilized before he pressed it against me or if he'd washed his hands so my wound would not get infected. I didn't miss how the man's touch softened at the voice of my pain, his technique now to dab around the wound instead of swiping. 

The cloth came back soaked with blood, and I felt dizzy looking at it. 

The man threaded his long medical needle and pressed a cold hand to my abdomen. I gasped, my stomach dipping at the bite of ice beneath his touch, and the man retracted his hand, looking at me almost worriedly. 

"Hurts?" he quietly asked. 

I swallowed. Found myself nodding while those mysterious eyes captured me. 

The man let his eyes linger on me for a moment longer before returning his hand to my bare stomach. Nausea stirred in me, and I closed my eyes so I couldn't see when the needle would penetrate me. It had been much easier watching my doctor perform this on others than it was to receive the treatment myself. Fortunately, the man did not warn me of when he'd begin. The first prick of the needle came quickly, painfully, and I found remedy in the man's arm again.

"...hurts," I gritted. 

He hummed, acknowledging me. "I'll move quickly." And he did, slipping the needle in and out of my skin seamlessly, as if he were repairing but a simple tear in clothing. But it did not come without torment, and beneath his touch I writhed, my shut eyes leaking agony and grief.

Only once I heard the quiet snip of thread and felt the familiar gentle dab of a wet cloth could my body relax. I shuddered, my body touched with trembles.

"Finished," the man whispered. 

Then there was shuffling, and I peeled open my eyes to see him gathering the used supplies in a small towel, careful not to make a mess of my blood as he wrapped them. I noticed then the hand I still had on him. 

I snatched it away quickly, as if the touch had burned me, and at the loss of my contact, the man's eyes met me.

"What do you want from me?" I inquired weakly.

"Nothing."

"Did you save me?"

"I hurt you first," he answered, his eyes pulling away briefly, a flicker of guilt persuading them. I assumed he referred to my treatment just now unless he'd been the one to have stabbed me. But that seemed unlikely and inconsistent with how he tended to me now. 

"Why?" I ventured. "Why attack my home, then bring me here to treat me?"

The man was wiping my blood off his hands now, pointedly ignoring me.

My throat worked another swallow. "What is your name?"

He tensed, but only for a moment before relaxing again. "That does not matter."

"I'm demanding you tell me."

The man looked at me, a grim line through his pink-toned lips. A subtle red bloomed in the center of them. "You don't have the power to make demands anymore."

"And whose fault is that?"

He didn't answer. Again. And my frustration was scalding, boiling low in my stomach and influencing my following actions. I let my hand discreetly trace the floor beside me, recognized the cold blade of the paring knife the man must not have used, and lunged at him. Caught off guard, his body snapped back as I tackled him to the floor. I straddled his legs and leaned over him to press the tip of the blade to his throat. 

My vision timed out as shudders ran through my body. A deeply rooted pain pulsated in my abdomen, and the harsh tug of my stitches had me shivering violently. I needed to be careful, for I could tell the thread Hael had used wasn't as durable as what my doctor and I'd had access to in the castle. I also knew I was suffering mild effects of blood loss. 

It was truly a miracle I even remained conscious. 

"What about now?" Despite the sweat gathering across my hairline, my lips twitched into a sardonic smile. "Have I stolen my power back?"

The man gazed up at me, his lips parted a bit breathlessly, and I caught sight of the small mole beneath his left eye. Hadn't I known someone with such a distinct mark before?

I dismissed trying to place where I'd seen it before and focused on my captor—savior? Murderer. "Give me your name and every detail about your organization."

He remained mute. Unflinching. And his nonchalance had my nostrils flaring with anger. 

"Tell me," I urged, pressing the blade deep enough that it broke the man's skin. At the sight of blood, I lifted the knife a fraction, fear that I might accidentally hurt him rippling through me. The man only continued to gaze up at me, something wistful drawn on his elegant features. Something mourning. I could not understand why this murderous stranger regarded me with such a sad look. And not receiving any answers from him only heightened my panic. At least I should avenge my family and doctor by learning as much as I could about those who'd killed them.

But I had not the wickedness in me required to truly harm a person unprovoked. Nor the poison of evil in my veins to take anyone's life. So, how could I avenge anyone?

Anxiety flared in my chest. My eyes flitted between the man's underneath me, and in an impulsive panic, I brought the tip of the blade to my own throat. The man's eyes widened, his hands panic-stricken as he reached for me. I almost smiled, triumphant that he strangely cared enough about my well-being to not desire I make a reckless decision.

"Don't move," I warned, smugness thrumming in my chest.

He eyed me cautiously, sitting up slowly, yet again not trusting I would make the move I threatened to. 

"I said don't move." I pushed the blade further, nicking the skin of my neck. I bit my lip from the sting of pain, lifting the blade a subtle fraction. "Your name," I panted, "tell me."

The man swallowed visibly. "Now is not—"

"I'll do it," I threatened, tears welling in my eyes from how overwhelmed I was. "If you don't want my blood to spill, then I suggest you tell me your na—"

He sat up quickly and hauled me close, firmly capturing my wrist. "Let go," he ordered, tugging at my wrist carefully. Wary of using too much pressure because I also tugged, and either one of us could end up with our throat slit from this amount of tension on a weapon.

"Let go," he whispered this time, panicked eyes finding mine. And for a moment, my heart startled at the innocence of fear in his expression. Fear for me.

"Why do you care about what happens to me?" I asked, my voice softening, my hand weakening.

The man continued to stare at me innocently, his thick brows furrowing before he yielded. "Hael." He pronounced it softly, like a song. It tickled my ears. Then, he said it again. "My name…Hael."

Hale. The name of my favorite flower. A blossom that required heat to bloom, therefore, its striking green petals were visible all throughout the summer months. There had been plenty surrounding the village I'd grown up in.

I searched Hael's eyes for dishonesty, decided I saw none, and dropped the knife. Immediately, his hands came to my neck, cupping delicately and inspecting the trail of blood staining my skin. His thumb came into his mouth, and I flinched when the damp finger swiped at my cut. 

"Stop that," I croaked, pushing away at his hand.

"Please," Hael said gravely, "don't ever do that again."

I could only stare at him, dumbfounded at the paradox this man was. A murderer who stole Princes from their homes—that he'd burned to ashes in the first place—to treat them. Scoffing, I lifted carefully from Hael's lap and found my feet. I ignored how he lingered on the floor, continuing to gaze innocently at me.

"I had other questions you've yet to answer," I said briskly, ignoring the tightening of my chest that occurred when I looked upon Hael's face. More specifically, when I looked into his eyes. He looked familiar, like a scene in the back of my memory that was too slippery to pull forward. It tormented me. That I could not place him.

There were splashes of blood across his porcelain skin from the innocent lives he'd taken, and no doubt the same red color was threaded throughout my long and ash-colored strands. I'd been told that my wispy hair resembled smoke some days or floating dandelions children made wishes upon, with how freely it moved. I hated to keep it as long as it was, but my late biological mother hadn't been able to grow hair, and as a tribute to her, I only trimmed its length when necessary.

Hael finally stood, and he was watching me. He appeared conflicted about something. Of what, I did not care to know. Now that I'd been treated, I needed to find a way out of here to…to what? Where would I go? What home was there to go back to? Panic squeezed my chest at the thought, so severe that I would have collapsed from it had it not been for the noises outside in the night.

Voices, and plenty of them.

Hael tensed, his hands twitching by his sides. His eyes found me quickly, but I took the leap anyway, opening my mouth to shout for help. Hael immediately pressed his hand over my mouth and pushed me against the wall.

"Quiet. You must be quiet—" He hissed violently when I bit into his hand. 

The metallic taste of his blood lined my mouth as I shouted for help. The strain of screaming my lungs off had my body shuddering with familiar pain. Hael grasped my shoulders, shaking me gently as if to wake me from a bad dream.

"They are not here to help you," he gritted, growing frustrated with me. "If you call for them, they will come. And they will try to kill you."

"Like you don't already plan to. I will take my chances," I spat.

Hael's jaw tightened visibly. "You can come with me, and I can keep you safe, or you can stay behind and let them slaughter you. Choose."

I looked into his eyes, incredulous. Absolute confusion shook my brain. "And why would I trust someone who killed my family?"

His eyes darkened. "Me or them. Choose."

Scoffing, I shoved him. Hael barely budged. "I choose myself."