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Ch.6-Trust Me

It was maybe around two in the morning when Alec finally woke up. Because I had slept an abnormal amount during the day, I wasn’t exactly tired, and therefore able to stay up and wait for him. I spent the time tidying up his room, something I was sure he would hate, which was a big part of the reason I did it. It looked way better when I was done, too. I couldn’t wait to see him explode.

“Motherfucker!” He shouted out when he spotted me sitting in his room, bathed in darkness. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You cuss like a sailor,” I commented dryly, unfolding my legs and leaning forward in the chair I was perched on. “And what am I doing here? Do you have no recollection of last night?”

His face screwed up. “My head hurts.”

“Clearly you bumped your head.”

“What are you talking about?”

I gave him a flat look. “Do you not remember?”

He growled. “I’m still trying to figure out why the fuck you’re in my rom.”

“Let me paint you a nice picture,” I began. “I was out for a drive, and I found you in the woods bleeding out. Basically, I saved your ass and you should be kissing the ground I walk on.”

His blue eyes stared bemusedly at me, clearly not apprehending. Was I speaking Spanish or something? “I don’t remember that,” he mumbled. “All I remember is—” he cut himself off and snapped his lips shut, clearly saying more than he intended.

“What?” I persisted. “What more did you learn?”

A guarded look cast over his face. “Nothing,” he muttered. “Get out.”

“Uh, hell no,” I denied, rising to my feet. “You’re going to tell me what you were doing out there in the middle of the night. When you run away you aren’t supposed to severely injure yourself. Don’t you know anything?”

“I didn’t run away,” he grumbled, swinging his legs out of bed. “And I—shit!”

He jerked slightly, gaze flying down to his injured leg that had clotted overnight. The bandages were all red and disgusting, and I was so done playing nurse for the rest of my life.

“What the hell is that?” he gasped, clearly revolted.

“Your leg.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I mean why the hell is it bleeding?”

“You cut it open.”

“No, really? Because I definitely couldn’t tell that from just looking at it!”

“I don’t exactly have all the pieces here, and I’m not leaving until you tell me.” I thrust my chin in the air and crossed my arms tightly over my chest. “So spill it.”

He just stared at me, hard and defensive. I thought he would lash out and try to break my arm again or—god forbid—something worse, but he didn’t. He just released the most suffering, most agonizing sigh I’d ever heard and said, “Fine. If I tell you will you just leave me alone?”

I smiled victoriously. “Yes.”

He braced his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground. “I needed to clear my head,” he explained. “I went for a walk. I wasn’t sure why I went to the back woods, I just—it felt right. And I remembered something.”

I frowned. “Remembered what?”

“I remembered running through there,” he said. “Away from something—or maybe to something—I’m not sure. It was all fuzzy. But it was there. And so I tried retracing my steps but I fell.”