033. HARRY'S HOUSE

Rory never imagined she would be carried bridal style by someone.

There was a first for everything. 

She just had to be covered in blood for it to happen.

It wasn't as romantic as she expected. Whenever she watched this happening in movies during a scene between the two love interests, it was some overly romantic gesture. The one carried would squeal and be tossed onto the bed, giggling and laughing with the one holding them the entire time. 

Those characters made it seem like a gesture that you would want to happen.

But Rory just felt like a giant baby in Harry's arms.

"Let's get her clean first - make sure we get all the excess dirt off. You should probably help her."

Harry walked through the kitchen to the back of the house, stopping in front of a door. "As in, go in with her?"

Colson nodded. "Yeah, I mean. It's nothing you haven't seen before, right?"

"Right. But she's seeing someone else."

"I can stand-"

"So?"

"So, we're not together."

"I can do it-"

"I'm not following," Colson said.

Harry released an annoyed sigh. "I don't think it would be appropriate for me to see her that way, considering-"

"Would you two stop talking like I'm not fucking here and put me down?" Rory yelled.

The two men looked at her as if realizing just now that she was in the room. She would have thought Harry would have at least remembered, considering he was holding her in his arms. Maybe he was so strong that she barely weighed a thing to him. Or, perhaps he was used to cradling someone like a bag of potatoes.

Either way, she felt invisible. With her body covered in blood and dirt, Rory didn't appreciate the discussion over how much help she needed was happening without her.

Ugh, men, the voice in her head sneered.

"Oh shit, yeah." Harry cautiously lowered her to the ground and kept his arm around her waist as she stood upright. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she muttered, walking into the bathroom.

Her steps suddenly stopped, catching sight of herself in the mirror. It was the first time she saw what Tanner had done to her. Blood covered her face, a mix of old and dried, new and smeared. Her bottom lip was split and swollen, her skin covered with gashes and scratch marks. To sum it up, she looked horrendous. She had no idea how Harry could keep up a conversation with her - she couldn't look at her reflection for long before needing to look away.

"Rory?" Harry said her name softly, stepping into the room. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, averting her gaze to the ground. "Can you turn the shower on for me?"

"Of course. Here," Harry stepped out briefly and returned seconds later with a chair from the dining room. "Sit."

Rory did as instructed as Harry turned on the water. She did her best not to look at herself but couldn't help but sneak a few glances. Every time she looked, it only made the pain worse.

"Let's take your shoes off."

Brushing away the urge to tell him she didn't need help, she swallowed the words as he kneeled beside her and started unlacing her sneakers before pulling them off her feet.

"Can you manage your clothes?"

Rory nodded as she stood. Her hands went to the bottom of her shirt. A cry of pain escaped her lips as she attempted to pull up the material.

"What is it?" Harry asked, alarmed over her reaction. He looked to her arm, noticing the scrape, exposing the tender flesh that ran from her triceps to just below her elbow. "Shit."

"Help," she whispered, fighting back the tears. "Please."

Harry paused briefly, trying to figure out the best way to assist. "I think I'm going to have to cut this off you," he said, tugging at the spandex material of her tank top. "Is that alright?"

Rory managed to get out a quiet "Yes," before letting a tear slip roll down her cheek.

"Don't cry, Bambi. It's okay. I'm here to help you." Opening the bathroom door, he called out, "Col, get me some scissors."

"Will a knife work? It's sharp."

"Yeah, fine, whatever. Just hurry."

Colson appeared with the object in hand. "Make sure she's gentle in there."

"She reads medical textbooks for fun; she knows how to clean a wound." Harry slammed the door shut and made his way back to Rory.

"You remembered." She noted his confused glance and clarified, "What I like to read. You remembered."

Harry gave her a small smile. "Of course I did. But, to be fair, it's not every day that I meet someone who enjoys reading textbooks for pleasure." Gesturing to the knife in his hand, he said, "Don't worry, Bambi. I'll be careful with this."

He waited until she gave him a nod of acknowledgement before carefully pressing the blade against the material of her clothing. The fabric was torn and fell to the ground in one fluid motion. Putting the weapon safely on the counter, Harry quickly unzipped her skirt and let it join where her tank top lay.

"I'm going to take these off now," he said, gesturing to her undergarments. "Is that okay?"

She nodded.

"I won't cut them off. I know you hated it when I did that."

His hands moved along her back with a light touch, leaving an unintentional trail of goosebumps behind on her skin. With her bra unclasped, Rory kept herself covered with her hands as Harry worked his way to her underwear. She didn't feel awkward or uncomfortable over what he was doing - she found it (oddly) intimate.

"I'll be standing right outside this door." His eyes never left hers as he spoke. "Make sure you only rinse off, so Doctor Colson doesn't get all angry with us, alright?"

She nodded.

"And just shout if you need me."

"Harry," she said as he turned to the door.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

He smiled, this time letting a dimple show. "Anytime, Bambi."

With cautious steps, Rory entered the shower and closed the glass door behind her. The realization of how filthy she truly was didn't dawn on her until she watched the water, a mixture of dirt and blood, go down the drain. She waited for the water to clear, but it felt like an eternity.

The thoughts of what could have happened if Harry wasn't around tried to push through and enter her mind. It never got this bad before. She learned the hard way that she couldn't think about the what-ifs. What if Harry didn't show? What if Tanner hit her head one more time? What if he left her there? What if no one ended up finding her?

She told herself not to think about the what-ifs. But her mind was flooded by them.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed the palm of her hand against the wall to keep her body stable. Rory didn't mean to start crying. However, once it started, it was hard to stop.

The shower door opened, and Rory turned to see Harry standing with a look of concern. "I think you're all clean now, Bambi," he said, turning the water off.

Once again, Rory noticed that his eyes never left hers when he spoke. It would have been easy to sneak a glance or two, considering she was fully naked in front of him. But he never did. It was odd, yet nice, not to have someone staring while in such a vulnerable state.

"Harry," her voice was strained from crying. "I'm scared."

"I know it's easy for me to say, but don't be," he said, wrapping a towel around her small frame. "You'll be safe here in the house." 

She knew it wouldn't be staying at Harry's house that would make her feel safe; it would be staying with him. 

Wiping her eyes, she sniffled and said, "I think he's going to kill me next time."

"He won't."

"How do you know? What if-"

Harry pressed his index finger to her lips. "He won't, Bambi. I'll keep you safe - I promise you that." Taking her hand and leading her out of the shower, he grabbed a spare towel and dried her hair. "Now, Colson will get you all sorted out and fixed up. No need to worry. He's good at this stuff."

"Okay."

"I want him to look at your elbow before you change. Are you okay with going out in a towel?"

She nodded.

"Are you sure, Bambi?"

She nodded again.

"Can you give me some words?"

"Yes, I'm okay with it."

Gently squeezing her hand, Harry led the way out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. Colson finished setting up all his supplies as the two joined him. Receiving a "be nice" warning from Harry, he forced a smile.

"Ready?"

"Can you look at her elbow first? She had pain when bending it."

Colson stood behind the girl and looked at the wound. "Not too deep, but that area will give her some trouble. Let me fix it up."

"Are you doing okay?" Harry whispered to her.

She nodded, averting her gaze to the ground. The pain was tolerable, nothing she couldn't handle. But her eyes squeezed shut as he cleaned out the cuts. 

Pain is temporary, she kept reminding herself. 

Of course, she would approach the situation with a gentler touch, but that was just her way of doing things.

With her arm tightly secured in a thick bandage, Colson stepped back to admire his work. "That should help a bit. I hope."

Harry shot him a glare. "Try being a little less insecure," he whispered harshly. "She's nervous, you idiot."

Rory wondered if the two genuinely forgot that she was in earshot or just didn't care. Either way, she stood silently as the two bickered over Colson's attitude, only looking up from the blood spot on the tile her eyes fixated on when Harry repeated a question.

"Rory? Can I help you up?"

She nodded.

Harry lifted her onto the counter and helped guide her body to lay down, resting her head on the pillow. Colson immediately took a wipe to her skin, cleaning off the remaining spots of blood. She wondered if it took this long when she cleaned Harry up months ago or if it just felt like time moved at a glacial pace when being the patient.

"Now that everything's cleaned up, they're not as bad as I thought. I'll only need to put two stitches here," Colson touched just below the spot on her forehead, "and your hairline will probably cover it."

Rory reached for Harry's hand, intertwining her fingers with his. It felt odd laying on his kitchen counter, but they both seemed so nonchalant about everything that she assumed this was where the repairs usually happened.

"Help her sit for up a second," Colson instructed Harry. "Before we start, you should take this." Colson handed her a small blue pill and a glass of whiskey.

"What is it?"

"It will numb the pain and help you sleep," Harry told her, assuming Colson would respond with something far more vague. "We will get you some medicine from a doctor tomorrow."

Rory opened her mouth to ask how they would get drugs from a doctor but was interrupted by Colson's irritated voice saying, "Fucking hell, just take it already. I'm sure you've snorted far more suspicious substances in your lifetime."

As Harry sent another angered look to his friend, Rory popped the pill in her mouth and knocked it back with the glass of alcohol. If her medical textbooks taught her anything, taking an unknown substance and mixing it with alcohol was a recipe for disaster.

Right now, she didn't care. She would welcome a disaster.

Resting her back down against the pillow, she allowed Colson to maneuver her head into the spot he needed. She reached her hand out for Harry's once again. His touch was familiar and comforting; she liked having him close.

Numbing cream was applied to her skin, which she knew would do little to help. Receiving a warning that the stitches were about to begin, Rory braced herself. Sucking in a deep breath, she waited anxiously for the needle to puncture her skin. 

"Ow," Rory winced.

Harry glared at Colson. "Be fucking careful! You're hurting her!"

"No, Harry," she said weakly, "You're squeezing my hand too tight."

"Oh, shit." He loosened his grip. "Sorry, Bambi."

She gave him a small smile in return. "It's okay."

"Are you comfortable enough otherwise?"

"A bit. My head is throbbing," she whispered.

Colson cut the ends of the final stitch. "Are you feeling nauseous?"

"No."

"Dizzy?"

"No."

"Is the light bothering you?"

"No."

"Blurry vision?"

"No."

"Any issue with noise?"

Rory sighed. "The noise from you with all these questions is fucking annoying."

"My apologies for making sure you're not fucking concussed."

"I wish I fucking unconscious right now, so I didn't have to hear you speak."

Harry chuckled at their bickering, stroking her hair. Meeting her glance, he smiled at her and spoke so quietly she wondered if he intended to say it out loud. 

"There's my girl." 

you know, if colson truly hated rory, he wouldn't fix her up. jUST SAYING. besties for life. 

also can't believe this chapter officially means killshot has hit 100,000 published words! !!yikes!!