Mihawk
Another normal evening for me. This time, without the presence of the annoying meatball. I sipped on my wine, a book in my other hand.
Well, I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up, because At sharp six in the evening, I heard the twisting of my doorknob and shutting of the door.
The figure, which most probably was Cyra's footsteps drew closer and closer, but wasn't making much sound. As when she usually does.
Thud
I placed my glass of wine and book on the table and walked in the direction. There is a very small chance that it might not be Cyra.
I walked up to see Cyra right?
But she was in a horrible condition. Her hair was messed up, her dress was torn a bit, and I could see bruises and injuries all over her body.
I immediately crouched next to her out of instinct and began examining her wounds.
I wanted to ask who did it, but I decided to ask, "What happened?"
I could see Cyra's face tense up, but she had that stupid grin on her face as she chuckled nervously.
"Just some problems at workspace" she spoke as she tried to get up, but her leg gave its way.
One good look at her and I could understand that she was straight-up lying. Before she could Fall down, I caught her and then helped her to the couch.
It was worse than I'd thought.
Her face, arms, and legs were all bruised and she got an injury on her forehead that needed a stitch.
As a swordsman, I know a thing about treating cuts and other minor injuries.
I took my first aid kit and started treating her wounds right away.
"Ow" I could hear her wince once in a while. She looked like she was in huge pain, but still had the stupid grin on her face.
"Stay still" I commanded. She then was completely still, not even blinking. Even when her eyes started watering, she didn't blink.
Is she for real?
"I didn't mean like that!" I blurted out and then smacked my own forehead.
Gosh, she'd be the death of me one day.
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.
.
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By the time I had finished patching up her wounds, she had already fallen asleep
Is she for real?
I slowly, but gently picked her up and laid her on the couch. Then I went back to my room and grabbed a random blanket I could find and covered her small body with it.
She was placing a hand under her head like a pillow and was curled up in the Sofa. I crouched down to get a better look at her.
It was weird to see her face without that stupid grin of hers.
I brushed a strand of her brown hair that fell to her face and my hands instinctively caressed her face, my touch as light as a feather, not to wake her up.
My hand then moved down to her neck and I could find that it was quite rough with bruises all over.
And I was damn sure that was not caused by a one time thing.
I picked an ointment for the bruises and started spreading over the bruises gently. A man's handprint was exactly printed over her neck.
If I ever get that bastard in my hands, I'll just slice his damn hands off.
How dare he lie hands on my Cyra?