Chapter 2: The Broken

***Julian

I cleared everything from the wooden table with my forearm, metal bowl and silverware clattering onto the hardened floor. There I laid her naked body onto her right side, giving me access to the wounded shoulder.

Like a broken bird, her body fell lifeless but delicate and beautiful. Though thinning, she still held a woman’s form, with feminine curves, smooth supple skin. The bruises… the jagged cuts took nothing away from her soft, immaculate features. I shook my head and moved my eyes to the arrow, pierced through the front as the tip rounded out the back. Blood streamed down her chest, crossing over her exquisite neckline. It gathered under the opposite shoulder, branching into a drunken pool.

She shivered.

I rushed over and grabbed a wool blanket, covering her beaten body… quick to draw it over her breasts. I sucked in a breath, averting my eyes. Beads of sweat glistened against her head. Sickness and infection would likely take hold if I didn’t act soon. I rushed to the bathroom and found some gauze and antiseptic. My hands fumbled around the toolbox and brought out a pair of sheers.

I returned to her, still unresponsive. I tugged cautiously at the arrow, checking for the easiest route of removal. Finally, I snipped the bottom half of the arrow with the sheers. The movement caused a small groan from her pained mouth. With one hand curled firmly around her shoulder and my right gripped on the other end, I pulled the arrow out as quickly but carefully as possible.

Screams muffled through clenched teeth, violet brilliant eyes flaring open.

They were wild and wide, shooting directly at me. The sneer gripped her mouth, exposing sharpened teeth.

What was she?

I held my hands up in defense.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m just trying to fix that,” I said, motioning to the gaping hole now spilling thick slippery blood from her shoulder. “That wound… you’re going to bleed out if we don’t do something about it.”

Her eyes darted to her left. The crazed gems flickered with trepidation, and she looked back at me. Slowly, the sneer pulled back. I didn’t take my eyes off her as I laid my hand back down with the gauze. She winced at the pressure. But even the gauze couldn’t contain the blood that rushed out. I ran over to the bathroom, grabbing a few towels and a sewing kit. I pressed the larger towel, watching as reddish hues soaked through.

I knew what I had to do. The wound had to be stitched up. I had done it on myself countless times. A long scar from my left palm up to the side of my pinky finger shone under the warm kitchen lights. But the question remained – would this woman, this animal attack me once I used the needle? Would she understand that I was trying to save her, not harm her?

Well, it didn’t much matter because if I didn’t stop this bleeding, there would be no “her” to speak of.

I grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. Took a large swig before offering it to her. She took one look at the sewing kit and nodded. Her gaze never left the needle between us. Lightly, I brushed my hand along her spine and base of her neck, to allow her to drink from the bottle. She recoiled.

Shit. My mouth parted, apologetically. Her shoulders softened, body relaxed into me as she allowed my hand to touch her again, tilting her slightly as I pressed the whiskey to her lips. She sucked in a hissing breath and closed her eyes.

I moved the bottle to her shoulder and poured. Groans growled deep in her throat as she flexed her jaw. I took a clean towel to her forehead, dabbing gently. I could feel her gaze, skeptical and unnerving, under my palm. The blood continued to run out of her as I worked to steady the towel around the back, still squeezing the skin together so I could work on the suture. She grunted and whimpered as the needle pierced, moving back and forth until it was time to tie off the thread.

I turned to her back and moved the blanket aside. Purplish blue bruises covered her like a broken canvas. There were whip marks, maybe old, lashed in several placed. Faint traces of her past, forever etched into her beautiful porcelain skin.

What happened to her? Who could have done this? My fingertips reached out, drawing inches away from the carvings. But I caught myself, taking a deep breath to my chest. My hand clenched into a fist as I withdrew from her.

What was I doing? Just fix her up. Clean her up, maybe get some food in her and send her on her way. If she was running from whatever this was, it would only lead to my doorstep. And I lived a simple life for a reason.

Didn’t ask for trouble. Didn’t go looking for trouble.

I turned back to the task at hand and finished sewing her back. I finished bandaging her up and I walked around to face her. The pain in her eyes sat misty, brimming but no visible tears.

I cleared my throat.

“The arrow. I didn’t know you were… um, a person?” I stammered, running a hand nervously through my ruffled hair. “But I’ll run you a bath and you can clean yourself up.” She only looked at me with brows turned inward. No reply.

I began to walk out, but side stepped back as I mumbled, “I’m sorry. That’s what I meant to say. You know… for the arrow.”

Violet orbs glittered in response. I stumbled out.

Fuck, get it together, I thought to myself. I never did this much talking. Hell, out here I never saw anyone for months at a time, except a few hunters during hunting season. And even then, we just gave a few head nods, laughed at a few jokes, and went our own merry way.

Simple. How I liked it.

I ran the hot water and watched as it filled the tub. I could go out there, but I really didn’t want to stand in my own kitchen, looking dumbfounded again. So, here I sat at the edge of the tub, hiding in the bathroom with my head between my knees.

Still no fresh meat. I’d have to set traps in the morning. I had some reserved canned food in the shed, which I tried not to touch unless things were dire. But this was one of those times since I had nothing prepared and there was now an unexpected guest who had almost bled out on my kitchen minutes ago.

And who knew when she last ate.

I came out from my hiding place and there she was, standing beside the table with the blanket wrapped around her tiny frame. I noticed the curvature of her delicate collarbone as it dipped below her slender neck, bones protruding with morbid definition. Dark circles swept the underside of her lids as her cheekbones sank below, gaunt and haggard.

Still, it didn’t take away from her striking beauty. Golden brown strands eased past her shoulders and shimmered as if sunlight waited in the room, hovering just above her head. She blinked back amethyst eyes, and a cool sweat touched my back.

I looked away, hands motioning towards the bathroom. I slid my body out of the hallway, to allow her space to get comfortable.

Something told me – she hadn’t felt comfortable in a long time.