18 He Can't Die

I hadn’t closed the window, and the gentle breeze was a good way to get rid of the bloody smell in the room. I turned the bedside lamp down to the lowest setting, moved the clothes rack to the window, and lit two scented candles from the bathroom.

The clothes hanging on the rack could prevent my shadow from being seen on the curtain—something Elena had taught me.

I checked on him. Though he had cuts on his arms and back, the worst injury was the one on his abdomen. Blood kept seeping out, soaking his shirt in that area.

I climbed on a chair to grab the first-aid kit from my dad's study, then found some scissors in my room. The next step was to cut his clothes open.

He was half-unconscious by now, the blood and his pale face giving him a strangely fragile beauty. A mix of strength and vulnerability showed on his face.

I cut along the edge of the bloodstains, opening up his shirt. His defined abs and V-line came into view.

The hem of his white shirt was a mess after I cut it open, but i