[Bay Leaf]: I change, but in death

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| Chapter Fifteen | Bay Leaf

It's 11:37 as I pull my car in front of Connor's place. He was right, I remember everything about this place, including the location on a dead-end street.

As I kill the engine off, lock the doors, and start to make my way to his front door, I try to get my mind off what I'm doing right now and all the possible reasons he's asked me to meet him here.

He has something up his sleeve, I'm sure of it.

My suspicions double when I climb the unstable wooden stairs to the front door and find it halfway open.

What the hell?

I knock thrice then two more times and when no one answers, I push it open completely and enter.

"Haha, funny," I mumble to myself to fill in the silence in the empty hallway. The light in the living room is on, although it's not as bright as it should be. But considering there is just one small and very old chandelier in this huge space, then it's really doing its best.

The last time I was here I didn't have time to observe the place. At first, I was shaken and then in a hurry to go get the hell out of here, but now that I'm looking around without all the overwhelming feelings, the place looks weird and dark.

Just like in his room, everything in the living room is old. Old wooden furniture - bookshelves, a brown leather sofa with two armchairs and a small coffee table between them, a small bar in the corner with various drinks I can't even recognize, and a TV on the wall.

The most modern thing in the room is the latest PS4 and a joystick lying carelessly on the floor. I notice that some zombie game is on pause on the screen, so he must be at home.

"Connor?" I call out warily, looking around as I climb the stairs to the second floor. "Is this one of your stupid games? I'm not scared."

Not getting an answer, I make my way to his bedroom door and knock twice before pushing it open, my head held high. You know in case he jumps out of nowhere trying to scare me or something. Which I'm pretty sure he won't do, but well, you never know. Better be prepared than look like a loser.

The light from underneath the bathroom door catches my attention, and I roll my eyes knowingly.

There he is.

The black kitten heels that I've paired with light blue jeans and a casual white loose shirt to look cute but casual, don't make a sound as I walk to the bathroom door and push it open.

"Oh my god, Connor!" The words fly out of my mouth the second the door is all the way open.

My hand on the doorknob starts to shake, as my eyes take in the picture in front of me: Connor's lying in the empty tub, shirtless and bleeding to death.

When he hears my voice he looks up, a needle in his hand, and gives me a surprised and furious look.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He growls, and I realize it's from the pain as my eyes continue to take everything in.

Almost his whole body from the chest down is covered in blood, and he even has some on his face.

I rush to him, my heart beating like crazy, ignoring the disturbing smell of blood in the small space.

I kneel, my hand trying to reach his body and examine where he's hurt, when suddenly he grabs my hand roughly, pulling me toward him so now we're face to face.

I let out a surprised yelp, my eyes finding his very angry green ones.

"I said, what the fuck are you doing in here?" I open my mouth to answer the prick who apparently is alive enough to glare at me, when the realization seems to sink in and he remembers he was the one to ask me to come over.

He lets out a swear and closes his eyes for a second, taking a deep shaky breath.

"What time is it?" He asks as if that's the most important question right now.

"Are you seriously asking me that now? What the hell is going on here?" I bite back pulling my hand out of his electric grip.

He checks his vintage watch hanging from his left wrist with another swear word under his breath, before leaning back against the tub again.

"Fuck, I completely forgot about it. But well, since you're here, you might as well help me out a little, Little Monster."

Huh? The Connor I know would never call me by my nickname without manipulation on his mind, let alone ask for my help, so wha_

Ooooh, I see, now.

"Are you drunk?" I raise a brow my eyes on the half-empty bottle of vodka between his legs.

"I had to numb the pain." He answers simply.

"With alcohol?"

"And clean the wound too."

I get back on my feet with a jerk, and pull my phone out, hands shaking the whole time. How can he be so calm right now? Is he human?

"I'm gonna call 911 and then I'm going to report
whoever in the world did this to you."

"You're not calling anyone. Now put that down, and stitch me up."

I take a step back, glaring at him with watery eyes.

"You're crazy!" I snap, throwing my hands in the air. "How can you be so... sooooo stupid? You can't suture your wound yourself! I'm not gonna watch you die!"

"That's right, I'm not doing it, but you will. I've been trying but it's at a very uncomfortable place." He says motioning to his right side, as if he's talking about a mosquito bite. "So you might be the one to save me, after all. Stitch me up."

"Jesus, you're really crazy. I can't do it."

"Yes, you can and you will..."

"Connor!" I object, squeezing my phone in one hand, ready to call the ambulance anytime.

"There it goes." He says with a small smirk, kind of satisfied with himself. "My name out of that smart mouth of yours as if you fucking own it. Now come closer and help me out here."

I shake my head slowly, processing everything and trying to decide what to do.

The longer we're arguing the more he's bleeding and my heart can't take it.

But I know that I can't suture the wound either.

I've never done anything like that.

He moans quietly as he shifts in the tub, and holds his bloody hand up in the air.

"Come here," he says, his voice even and demanding, and as if on command, my shaking feet move toward him.

I cross the space between us and place my hand in his.

The moment my forever cold skin touches his forever warm one, a jolt of electricity runs down my spine, leaving shivers all over my body and his eyes tell me he sees it.

He tugs at my hand until I'm kneeling on the floor next to the tub and doesn't stop until my face is millimeters away from his.

All the blood on that gorgeous face and the cut on his lip and eyebrow makes me want to find whoever did this to him and kill them. I mean torture them to death, if I'm being completely honest with myself.

"I don't think I can do it," I mumble holding his eyes. "Please let me take you to the hospital."

"I remember your skills." He squeezes my hand in his before his eyes concentrate on them. The side of his mouth twitches before turning into a smirk as he says, "You can practically do anything with those hands."

If I weren't so worried about him I'd let out a surprised laugh at his innuendo and find drunk Connor amusing.

"Why won't you let me call for help? And tell me the truth or I will leave you bleeding to death."

He raises a brow, which makes him even more gorgeous.

"We both know you won't do it."

"My nickname is Little Monster for a reason," I say with a smirk, waiting for him to start.

"Then again, you're not wrong. Okay, let's say I don't want to get into trouble."

"Funny, considering that's your nickname. Now give me more than that."

"They're gonna call the police next. And you see? Me and the police are not on good terms."

"Why?"

"I've been in juvie ones. For attempted murder. I don't wanna attract attention now." I take a moment to let the information sink in.

He must be really drunk to share that with me, and even though it raises one million questions inside my head, I don't ask him any of that, because I trust him. I trust him to be a good person, who'd never hurt anyone without a reason.

"Now can you fucking do it before I try to kill you?" He says placing the hot needle inside my palm.

Collecting all the confidence I have inside my bones, I lean into him, so now my face is right in front of his, and smile to myself when his eyes widen in surprise.

"I will, but not because I'm scared of you, Connor. But because I don't want you to die on my watch and turn into a ghost. I don't want you haunting my dreams too."

"As if I'm not already doing it," I hear him mumble to himself as I pull back to get ready to start.

I hear him, but I pretend that I don't. What's the point of arguing about it, if he's not completely wrong? Not at all.

***

Author's Note

Surpriiiiise! ^_^ So because "Midnight Memories" has just hit 75K reads, I've decided to upload the chapter today! This chapter was originally REALLY long, so I've divided it into 2 parts, which means you're definitely getting a chapter next week! And a HOT (and beautiful) one too! Yeheee!

However, please let me know what you think about the chapter in the comments and through your votes. Those two motivate me and every other aspiring writer a lot, so please take a second to vote and comment your thoughts - be they positive or negative.

That's it! PS I haven't had time to revise the chapter again, but I will definitely come back to it later. Stay sparkling and happy Friday, Moonlights! See you next week!

PS While you wait, I suggest you start reading Midnight Memories (if you haven't already done that). It's the first book in the series that Trouble is a part of, but each book is a total standalone and can be read separately. I'm sure it will make the wait for Trouble's next chapter less annoying.