Chapter twenty

Work, rage and blood

Clyde's father sent a letter informing him that his family will come over just like last time. Clyde hesitated for a response. He looked at me and I knew what he was thinking.

"I could tell him we are busy," he said.

"Why would you do that?" I asked.

He shrugged, "we don't have to if it makes uncomfortable."

I smiled at him, appreciate that he thought about me and how I feel, but we can't avoid crowds forever. I am a part of a royal family now and meeting with people is a must, I will have to do it one way or another so... "No," I said, "it's okay, tell him we will be right here waiting to greet him."

He gave me half a smile, "are you sure?" I nodded, he looked at me for a brief second then started writing on a letter he intends to send out. Even though phones exist, the king communicates with nothing but letters.

Clyde uses his phone quite a lot because of work, while I have never owned one. back then I couldn't afford it, and even though now I can, I won't ask him for one since I do not know how to use it nor do I need it.

Speaking of which, his phone rang and I am sure it's from work. His changed immediately changed, filled with rage as he got up and rushed out. Soon I heard the car being droved out of the garage, I hope everything is alright.

I picked a book and read a bit in the garden, and once I was done I started watering the plants since I did not do it today.

After dark, the huge front doors that protected the castle opened up by the guard allowing Clyde's car to drive through. His car soon pulled into the garage while I was still in the garden, I did not move from where I was sitting but I peaked as he got out of his car and unlocked it. He wasn't visible from there but I looked in that direction until he came close enough. He did not see me at first, but when he did, he quickly turned his face away and walked inside the castle.

Something isn't right, the way he walked; like his leg couldn't keep steady. His messed up clothes, which is shocking since he always keeps his outfit neat. The way he quickly looked away, it was as if he was trying to hide.

I walked inside shortly after and went up the stairs, I heard running water from his opened room so I walked in, concerned.

"Clyde?" I called.

For a second, it was silent. Until he talked, "Yes" his voice came from the bathroom, yet its door was open.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, but I could hear the pain through his voice as if he gritted his teeth to stop the pain.

"can I come in?" I asked, but he did not respond so I asked again, "can I?"

"If you can't resist taking a peak," he teased, but I still can hear his pain. "You may."

I hesitated as I took a few steps towards his bathroom door, and when I finally stepped inside, I covered my mouth with my hand as I stared at him with wide eyes; his white shirt with socked with blood on the ground, his left eyebrow had a small cut and his arm was bleeding slightly while his pants were cut with what looked like a knife that broke through his pants and into his leg. I felt tears stinging in my eyes, it felt as if I was the one in pain, not him.

His eyes narrowed at the sight of my tears that eventually escaped my eyes and, down my cheeks, "it does not hurt," he said, which clearly is a lie. "What is the matter?" He asked as if I am the one bleeding out, "Why are you crying?"

I suddenly collected myself and moved towards him after I felt frozen for a few minutes. Without talking, I pulled a towel and soaked it with water and applied pressure on his injured leg since it was the most affected, I had no clue what I was doing but I did whatever crossed my mind. "We have to take you to the hospital," I said as I sniffed.

"No," he shook his head slightly then winced in pain. "No need for that."

"You are bleeding out Clyde!"

"I can see that," he said."I have experienced worse, I will be just fine." He paused, "you don't have to stay if your heart can't take it, I aid myself and be right downstairs when I am done."

I shook my head and wiped away the remaining tears, "what can I do?"

"you can go downstairs"

"Clyde!"

"Fine," he pointed at the cabinets behind me. "You will find an aid kit right there." I walked over to where he pointed and opened the cabinets looking for the kit, "the first one up to the left" he instructed, I opened it and pulled the box out. "You can go no," he said as soon as I handed it to him.

"is my company bothering you?" I asked trying to keep my voice steady, not wanting it to break because I knew he thinks I am weak due to my tears. "I will stay." I said firmly, making it clear there is nothing to discuss.

He nodded, "Okay." He ripped his pants more from the spot that had the cat as I opened the aid kit box. "Not that bad, but I need to stitch it." I looked at him, he gave me a look telling me that I can leave without having to speak.

"I will stay," I repeated.

"Can you get me some alcohol?" He asked, "to disinfect and clean it" I nodded and hurried outside and came back with what he asked for. He poured it on his leg which caused him to groan. I found myself immediately squeezing his shoulder hoping it would help. I stared at his wound as he reached for the needle and thread in his kit, he must experience this a lot to own such items. He sterilised them before pushing the needle through his skin to the right of the wound, then twisted his hand so the needle started coming up from the other side of the wound. He did it effortlessly which amazed me, but it wasn't long before I closed my eyes since I could not see it any longer. I stayed by his side with my eyes closed hoping this torture would end soon. Every wince of pain from him made my heart hurt more.

I collected my courage and opened my eyes, his forehead was sweating so I pulled another towel from beside me and wiped it gently. He cut the thread and threw his head to the side, close to my stomach, to rest as he breathed heavily. I ran my hand through his hair without thinking, "you are okay." I said, not sure if I was assuring him or assuring myself. He closed his eyes for a short time then immediately opened them back up as he sat up bolt putting the strong face back on.

I pulled a seat in front of him and gently cleaned the small cut on his eyebrow, "the hospital would have been merciful." I said, "they would have given you anesthesia or something," I paused, "and they would have definitely stitched it better than you did."

"I stitched it just fine," he said.

I did not say another word, but I found myself letting go of the towel and tracing the cut with my bare hand, feeling it. Then moved my fingertips at the side of his face, he closed his eyes and I could tell it calmed him down, he leaned his head to where my hand was and opened his eyes again, locking them with mine.

I pulled my hand and looked away, "what happened?" I asked, "you were furious when you got the call and came back with- well, this" I gestured at his wounds.

"it's nothing," he said, but I can see he felt angry again because of the reminder of work.

"I would like to hear, I care." I said. "If you care to share."

He debated as he looked at me, "some of the captives got away," he started."Turned out they communicated somehow and planned it for a long time now. When I arrived," he paused. "It was a mess, guards were down and cells were opened. But luckily I got there before they had left, we closed the gates and worked to lock them back. Some died in the process, after giving me these wounds of course. And some gave up and walked themselves back to their cells like the cowards they are." He gritted his teeth in anger, "the-" he took a deep breath, I could tell it was hard for him to tell me whatever he wanted to say next.

"you don't have to tell me," I said.

"The scoundrel we believe who... Who killed my mother died while fighting my men, I still haven't got the reason why from him yet." He rolled his hands into fists, "he had yet to be tortured for what he did, but alas, he is gone too easily."

I took his hand, he flinched and pulled away, like he does not want to be comforted. I reached for his hands again, and this time he let me. "No matter what was his reason, which I think he had none, just a physio for doing so. And no matter how much you wanted to see him suffer, know that the world is better off without people like him. Know that he will get the punishment he deserves, he isn't in peace." I said then looked up to face him, "your mother is proud of you, she wants you to put this all behind and live life for what's next, not what has passed."

"How do you know what she wants," he murmured, looking at the wall behind me, avoiding my gaze.

"Because I know that she loves you unconditionally," I said."As much as you love her and maybe a bit more. Which means, she does not want you to be something you are not, a torturer or whatever just to get revenge. Because she does not need one, she has found her peace by now, happy at somewhere nice, knowing that he is dead, deep in hell, not capable to hurt anyone else."

"Do you believe in hell?" He asked, finally looking at him, which made his face an inch away from mine.

"I do," I answered. "Where else would his kind be then?" He did not respond, just looked at me. For as long as I looked at him, I felt as if I got closer by every passing second, closer than we already were. I pushed my seat back and got up, not ready for whatever was going to happen next. I don't know what it was, but it felt like magnet that I could not control, and I know he felt it too. "Get some rest," I said. "You need time to heal."