Chapter 2~ Lord, please help me

Chapter 2

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Elizabeth

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Resting my hand against his chest, a feeling of relief washed over me when I discovered he was still breathing.

That counts for something, doesn't it?

When I made a move to undress him, I started feeling fidgety and nervous all over, and I know why.

I've never been this close to a man before. Never ever.

I'm twenty-three and still a virgin. And I'm bound to remain one till I take my last breath. So this feeling should be totally normal. Right?

“Lord, please help me,” I muttered to myself before reaching out to undress him. Each button I opened revealed a perfectly sculptured chest and I had to force my eyes back to his face.

This man was incredibly good looking. That was one fact that I couldn't deny, no matter how many voices in my head screamed that I should.

I peeled off his blood-soaked shirt completely and really took my time to look at him. Swallowing, my eyes roamed all over him in fascination. His chest and biceps are all covered in tattoos. The man is literally ink and muscle. All of him. Not an ounce of fat anywhere.

Heat flushes across my cheeks when I realize what I'm doing, and I have to drag my eyes away from him and on the first aid kit.

No distractions, Liz.

“Mister bleeding man,” I started off, half to him and half to myself as I bring out all the items I would be needing for this inexperienced surgery. “I’ve never done this before, okay? Mother Roselyn is usually the one in charge of this kind of stuff, then she appoints someone to work with her.” I started cleaning him up to make things easier and smooth for me. “I've never been chosen before, because the last time I was close to a bleeding person, I ended up lying in the sick bed right next to the bleeding victim. Mother Roselyn was furious with me, she called me dramatic because I fainted at the sight of blood.”

I looked at him when I was done cleaning to check for signs that he might be listening, but there wasn't. I'm only talking to myself.

Regardless, I spoke up again, “But I promise… I promise to do a better job on you.”

Wrapping my hair into a bun, with my hands still shaking all the way, I managed to stitch and bandage him up in places where necessary. My eyes strayed to the clock hanging above my closet and I realized that I've been doing this for over an hour.

Nevertheless, I did it. The stitches might not be so perfect but I really did it. I saved someone's life today.

I'm almost at the verge of crying out joyful tears when I remember I'm stained in blood too. So slowly, I lift myself off from him and step away from the bed.

His chest is rising and falling and that was all the hope that I needed. A lock of hair escaped, resting over his eyebrow and the urge to tuck them back grew with each passing second that I stood there. Shaking myself off from whatever trance I was in, I dropped the first aid kit back in the closet and made my way to the bathroom.

I needed to wash off every sign that I was close to a man… so close to him that I took his shirt off, that I imagined things.

Now I've got so many things to say during confession period.

After I took one good look at him to make sure he's perfectly okay, I hurriedly entered the bathroom and shut the door behind me, locking it like there was any way the unconscious man could break in.

Slowly, I took off my clothes, dropping them into the laundry basket before stepping into the shower.

As each droplet of water trickled down my skin, I start scrubbing, washing every trace of blood on my skin, and every attempt to shut down thoughts about him failed miserably.

Because, I had a thousand questions.

How did he get wounded?

Who shot him?

Was he running from someone… or was he the one behind the chase?

Why did he end up in the cathedral?

If he wakes up, would he remember my face?

Goosebumps rise on my skin as the last thought settles on me and I realize that I don't know if I want him to remember me.

What if he wakes up and gets everything all juggled up?

What if he ends up thinking I'm behind whatever happened to him since I was the only one up at that hour?

No.

No.

No.

Could such a thing happen?

I've heard stories where the good guys end up being framed for something they didn't do. What if I end up in that situation?

I reach up and wipe the tear rolling down my cheeks.

I'm not a murderer, but who would believe me? Not when there's proof of blood on the altar, proof of an unconscious man in my bedroom.

I'm scared. I've never been this scared before even when Mama hits me.

I'm really scared and I have no idea what would happen when he eventually wakes up.

“Lord, I just wanted to help an injured man. Please, let this not come back to bite me,” I pleaded to the Almighty, hoping he was listening… hoping I wasn't alone in this.

It took me a total of thirty minutes to be done in the shower and dressed in a plain white nightwear that stopped just right after my knee—the kind of nightwear Mother Roeslyn expected us all to wear. Taking a deep breath again—something I've done quite a lot since today, I reached for the door handle, pulled and let myself out of the bathroom.

I released the breath I didn't realize I had been holding when I see him splayed on my bed, eyes closed and no signs of blood anywhere on my sheets.

I don't know but some part of me expected him to be gone by the time I was out. Seeing him still lying down on my bed unconscious made my nerves calm down a little bit.

I'm not going to lie, I feel so tired and sleepy altogether but I can't lie on the same bed with him.

That would be me going against everything Mother Roselyn taught us, everything a nun was supposed to stand for. So instead of lying on the bed, I walked towards my reading table and sat on the chair—waiting.

Waiting for sleep to take over so when I wake up, I’ld realize that all these is only a dream.

But as I tried to shut my eyes, I caught on to something on the bed, something I didn't notice before when I sat so close to him earlier.

With curiousity poking at me, I walked towards him and then I got a better view. My chest tightened when I saw it…

A gun.

There was a gun underneath him, almost like it slipped out when he slumped on the bed, and I was too blind to notice it.

My heart raced faster than normal as my gaze remained fixed on the weapon in my room.

What sort of man was this?

Who did I just let into my room?

An assassin? A murderer?

“Oh, God…” I slapped a hand over my mouth, suppressing whatever sound trying to crawl its way out of my throat.

What if… what if he killed someone and was only paying for his sins?

What if I saved the wrong person?

I'm still pondering over the numerous thoughts making their way to my head when I hear a loud thud at the door.

My heart skipped a beat.

The knock came again after a few seconds.

“Elizabeth! Open up, now!”

Oh, my. It's Mother Roselyn.