Mister Arlington

15

Mary urged me to rest after applying balm to my bruises and giving me a couple of painkillers. Although I wasn't anywhere near tired, rather more awake and aware of my surroundings — it wasn't a debating matter.

So for the next fifteen minutes, I complied with Mary's instructions, laying in bed while I listened to Mary's muffled shouts upstairs. I had thought to get up and see what the problem was but advised myself not to. So instead I stared at the scarf Mister Arlington gifted me, looking closely at the stitches made to create the warm accessory.

As time drawled on, my eyes began to flutter closed as a flood of exhaustion that wasn't previously there, submerged me in its darkness.

~~~

"Look at what you have done, Angelica!" My father yelled into my face, followed by his heavy fist connecting with my jaw.

"Look what you have done to your mother!"

He threw his fist down at my face again, holding me down with his other hand as if I were physically able to run away.

My inability to move forced me to stare at my mother eye to eye, I didn't dare look any lower. Where I knew I was able to see the end of her neck, disconnected from her body.

In order to keep myself from throwing up like the several other times I had, I focused on each pounding punch from my father.

And the rhythmic bang that reverberated through my head with each impact.

I gasped, bolting upright as I rapidly surveyed my surroundings. Once I came to realise I wasn't back in the house I was raised in, but in my room at Mister Arlington's cottage, I let out a sigh of relief.

It wasn't until after a moment, when I had calmed down did I realise the string of banging coming from the front door.

I groaned, rubbing my temples as I realised the same droning bang I had heard in my nightmare was actually happening in reality.

Suddenly I paused, realising the force of the thump on the door and Mary's neglect to answer it, which she always did.

Was it the intruder? Had he come to finished the job?

I got up with haste, running to Mary's room where she was asleep on the bed. Like this evening, I shook her almost violently. This time though, she did not react as she had before. Instead, groaning and rolling onto her side. Only then was I able to see the small bottle of pills in her hand.

Mentally cursing, I turned to her wardrobe in an effort to find something to defend myself with. I was aware that it was a hopeful attempt but it was all I had at this moment. I rummaged through the clothes that hung above the shoeboxes that were placed on the base of the wardrobe, after unsuccessfully finding anything around or inside the clothes I dropped down into a crouch before the shoe boxes, flipping each lid open and exploring the space inside.

I was on my last shoebox, my thoughts already turning to give up my search and take my chances with my fists or a knife. But as I stared at the shiny metal object inside the box all those thoughts vanished in an instant.

I hesitated, suddenly remembering the promise I had made to myself on the night of my fathers' death. I had promised that I was never going to touch a gun again, much less actually fire it.

The banging on the door — which was much louder than before — pulled me from my thoughts.

With a cluck of my tongue, I grabbed the metal object, running to the door with a self-taught silence while I simultaneously took the safety off.

With a deep breath, I unlocked the door and yanked it back as I quickly held the gun towards...

My God. Mister Arlington!

I blinked at him, taking in his body which was leaned against the brick wall before locking eyes with him.

"I'd advise you get that thing out of my face, Angelica," he warned, coldly.

I quickly pulled it out of the direction of his face, putting the safety back on before turning my attention back on him in a quick moment.

"Where is Mary? And why the hell did she lock the door?" he grunted, pushing off the wall and trudging inside, walking past me as I curtsied.

I couldn't help but notice his arm clutching his torso underneath his coat and the few droplets of blood that seemed to fall from him in slow motion.

I was left staring at the few droplets of blood beside me while Mister Arlington trudged to Mary's room, finding her as I had.

He let out a frustrated groan as I slowly looked up at him, finding him taking off his coat, revealing his expensive white dress shirt dyed red with his blood.

"I can't stitch the wound on my own, so you'll have to do it."

His words barely registered to me, all I could focus on was breathing for the moment.

"Angelica," he said firmly, pulling me out of my daze from this overwhelming situation. I looked at him with little confidence, and I knew in every fibre of me that he could tell. "Close the door and hurry up."

I gave him a curt nod, closing the front door before rushing behind him as he lead the way into the kitchen. I offered him a hand to help him onto the counter, only for him to swat the gesture away before snatching the gun I held from my hand and placing it in his waistband.

"Get the first aid kit and bottle of whiskey from the pantry."

Nodding, I rushed into the pantry, finding just what was needed before hurrying back into the kitchen. I almost dropped the bottle of whiskey when I saw Mister Arlington removing his ruined top, revealing his toned muscles and lightly golden skin along with it the various other scars and healing wounds.

I averted my gaze, placing the materials on the counter by Mister Arlington as he laid back on the marble counter. I dashed to the bathroom, grabbing a cloth and hurried back to the kitchen pulling two bowls from the cupboard, filling one with warm water before walking over to the counter.

Once I dampened the cloth I finally took a good look at the fresh wound. All I could see was blood. So much blood.

The flashback I had earlier before waking up darted to my immediate thoughts, causing me to cover my mouth with my hand as bile rose my throat.

Mister Arlingtons large hand wrapped around the wrist of my hand that hung limply beside me, steadying me. My gaze turned to his steel-grey eyes, finding them not as cold as his usual gaze.

"I'll walk you through it."

His attempt at comfort was enough to make the bile ease back down my throat until I was able to remove my hand from my mouth.

"Are you ready?"

I took a deep breath before nodding.