◈A D R I A N◈

That fucking bitch!

I slammed the door hard behind me, startling a man in the middle of zipping up his pants by the urinal. He winced and cursed a moment later, most probably because his dick got caught in the line of the zipper track.

"Fuck!" he bellowed as he crouched on the floor with his hands on his crotch. A bead of sweat trailed down his forehead while he panted, his face red with pain...and probably anger. "You fucking bastard!" he wheezed out.

Angry clouds were still circling my head, Kara's smiling face going around mocking me. My fists curled just at the thought of that. I gave the man a bored look. Served him right for being a wimp jumping at the slightest sound. Decided to avoid any unwelcome confrontation, I gritted out an apology without a thread of sincerity. "Sorry, man."

He shot me a dirty look and struggled to get up to his feet, his hands still clutching his crotch. "You don't sound sorry at all, bastard!"

"Yeah, I don't," I shot back and turned to leave the room but somehow the man managed to stumble forward and yank me back. Caught unguarded, I lost my footing and fell on the wet tiled floor but not before my forehead caught the edge of the basin.

The corner of the counter top grazed a long line from the top of my brows to my hairline. Blood trickled down the ridge of my eyebrow and gathered on the tip of my lashes. Like morning dew drops hanging on the end of a leaf at the crack of dawn.

I blinked dazedly trying to shake off the foggy mist before my eyes. Using my fingers to swipe at my sticky eyelids, I looked up at the shocked man. His eyes were wide with shock and a hint of guilt flashed past.

"Y-you did this to yourself," he stuttered and shuffled out of the room hurriedly, leaving the crime scene.

Unable to sit up any longer, the back of my head hit the floor, completely disregarding how dirty it was with small pools of liquid I didn't want to identify. My brain felt as if it was floating aimlessly in the vast ocean and I was unable to anchor it down to get my bearings.

Groaning, my fingers gingerly touched the wound and jerked back instantly when a sharp pain shot straight to my head. I held my fingers up to see thick blood smeared on them.

Fuck, I really don't wanna die in a smelly washroom.

I laid on the cold, hard ground waiting for someone who needed to piss to find me and get help. Staring at the dim lights hanging from the ceiling, I wondered if I was a magnet to accidents and injuries. The number of times I had myself tangled in shitty messes had to be a Guinness world record. I just marvelled at how resilient my body was after so many injuries.

A knock on the metal door pulled me from my misery. "Hey, you done shitting?" a gruff voice called out sounding so far away.

Logan!

I must have been gone for too long, even for constipation standards for him to check on me. I tried to get up but my strength had abandoned me completely.

"Logan." My frail voice was scratchy and I tried to clear my throat. I doubted he could hear over the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen.

A second knock rapped against the door. "Did you faint inside?" he asked with evident amusement in his voice.

If you don't barge in anytime soon, I'm really gonna faint on you.

Taking a deep breath and fighting off the nausea, I tried again when I felt my voice was getting stronger. "Logan!"

I heard the loose door knob jiggled for a bit before the door leaf was thrown wide open, revealing a concerned Logan. He took in the sight of my limp body on the floor and rushed to my side. "What happened? Who did this? Was it Damon?"

His incessant questions made my head hurt and I groaned loudly while he knelt beside me and slowly helped me up to a sitting position. He held my face by my chin and turned it towards him, his serious eyes examining my wound.

"No," I began to explain. "It was an accident. I just slipped and hit my head."

There wasn't a need to tell him about that little accident. It was too much work and I bet that man must had fled the scene.

My head swam again, blood seeming to rush south to my torso leaving my brain deoxygenated. I swayed and Logan quickly steadied me before I could hit the floor again.

I closed my eyes against the dizzying double vision. Logan patted my face lightly thinking I had fainted. "Hey, wake up."

My eyes remained closed and I responded tiredly. "I'm awake. Just feeling queasy, that's all."

His body relaxed a little and gently propped my head on his shoulder. "Giù! I need help in the toilet now!" He shouted loudly trying to get help from the chef. I heard footsteps shuffled into the room a moment's later.

I cracked open my eyes slightly with curiosity, peeking through my lids and let out a short yelp. A face with handlebar moustache was peering at me mere inches from my bloody face. "Oh dio! What happened to the poor boy?"

"He slipped and fell. Do you have somewhere we can go to? I don't think he can walk with his condition," Logan explained.

The chef jumped to his feet. "Sì, you can rest at the staff's room. There's a couch there." He then twisted his head back and yelled, "Adam, get the first aid kit to the staff's room now!"

"Let's get him up first," Logan said and snaked an arm under my arms and gently heaved me up. He wrapped an arm around me to hold me steady as we dragged our feet behind Giù to the staff's room.

I settled into the lumpy sofa right across the door and leaned back, resting my head on the backrest once we reached the room. Logan took a seat beside me and asked the chef, "Can you let Kara know that I have to take care of something? She can leave when she's done. Just add the bill to my tab."

The chef's moustache twitched with interest. "The pretty lady? Don't worry, I'll tell her." He got up and left the door open for Adam.

The young waiter placed the kit on the coffee table and passed a glass of water to Logan. "He probably wants some water," he explained.

"Thanks." Logan accepted the glass and held it up to my lips. My parched lips open slightly and gratefully gulped down the contents.

Adam shifted back and forth on his heels. "I guess I'll get back to work. Let me know if you need anything."

Logan gave a firm nod and thanked the waiter again. He left the room and closed the door behind him, leaving me alone with Logan.

Logan searched for the supplies in the kit. He pulled out a roll of gauze and a small bag of cotton. He fumbled again and found what he wanted, a bottle of antiseptic lotion.

Rolling out the gauze, he cut a small square of the fabric and tore a wad of cotton.

I was feeling better after rehydrating my body. The double vision had merged into one and I could stare at Logan's serious face as he held the piece of cotton under the squeeze bottle of distilled water.

"Close your eyes," he ordered gruffly and I quickly obeyed, not wanting to cause him any more trouble. He dabbed my wound as gently as he could but I couldn't help but flinched away from the stinging pain.

Logan gripped my chin to hold me still, "Don't move if you don't want your eyes to get poked."

Immediately, I stayed still and clenched my fists tighter when I felt the cotton dragged against my broken skin and getting caught onto the jagged dried blood. A pitiful whine left my lips.

"Almost done," Logan pacified and squeezed a small dollop of the antiseptic cream on a fresh piece of cotton. He used his left hand to press the cotton first on my wound followed by the gauze. His piercing eyes were focused too closely on my face that I got embarrassed and evaded his gaze. So, I kept my eyes on his right hand groping for the tape in the kit.

All of a sudden, my skin prickled with uneasiness as if we were being watched by a thousand of eyes. I scanned the surrounding discreetly but couldn't find the source of the creepy scrutiny.

Distracted, I jumped when Logan's hand pulled mine and pressed it on my forehead. "Hold this for me."

Startled, it took me awhile to understand what he meant and gingerly pressed the bandage firmly. Logan unrolled the tape and used his sharp teeth to tear few strips of the sticky tape and crisscrossed them over the bandage to secure it.

"Thanks," I muttered, my fingers lingering on the bandage.

"Yeah, I should charge you for my service. How many times have I saved your life again?" he grumbled and began to pack the medical supplies back into the kit.

I snickered at his smug face and rolled my eyes at him. That was when I saw a flash of yellow at the doorway.

Through the thin slit of the partially closed door, I saw the flutter of a mustard yellow dress fleeted past and heard the sound of heels tapping down the hallway growing fainter by the minute.

✈

Author's note

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{Song: Breathe by CUTTS}