7. • WOUNDED •


'Do you want to listen to music?' I asked Timothy as we settled in my Car. He nodded politely, with a small grin and I smiled down at the Boy.

'Yes please,' his face then contorted to one of worry, and I quickly started the engine. Concerned about his sudden change of expression.

'Your Father is fine Timothy. Don't worry too much,' I assured him, hoping that I was right. I would be lying if I said I wasn't just as worried, if not more about Russell since his call.

It still came as a shock to me, that he would request that I Bring Timothy Home. There were in fact other teachers, that could have done the task. So why would he choose me? After being so tough towards me, even when I was just doing my job. Or trying to converse with him. Still it wasn't my place to, but his attitude only made me curious about him. Mysterious he was, and I was trying to solve the puzzle that was he.

'Daddy is strong,' he smiled and I nodded in agreement.

If only he knew what I thought of his Father, or how much I thought of him. Timothy would be appalled, and probably weirded out. Suffice to say, I never saw anything more.

I couldn't even if I wanted to.

I pulled out onto the freeway, grateful that it wasn't peak hours as yet. So the traffic would t be too heavy. Meaning I could get this over with fast, and be home early enough to make Dinner. Then pop in a movie, or stream from Blu-Ray. To relax and ease my mind, from all the tension I seemed to have amassed in the past few days.

I still had to use GPS to get to get to the Adam's House, since I've never been there before. Just as I haven't been to any other Parent's Home. Since House calls weren't a thing for Teachers.

So pulling up to the House was a breathtaking moment, to say the least. From the outside the House looked like a modern Farm House. Built with cypress wood, with oak wooden decorations. Small, and very large octagon windows added to the overall style of the House, added in a mostly symmetric way. Most of the Houses on this Avenue seemed very decent, some luxurious even. But it seemed it was the quiet parts of Trinity Cove. Not much activity, but a group of Children running about the lawn. Two yards over from Russell's, with a Garage built yards away from the House itself.

I made sure Timothy had all his things, before I closed the Car and activated the Alarm. I followed him up to the door, and rung the doorbell. Waiting for Russell to answer. 'Mr. Adams? Its Kai James, I'm here with Timothy.' I called, and the door flew open quickly. A sweat drenched Russell looking back at me, with sunken eyes. Dark circles with varying sizes around each eye. I quickly took notice of his ashy tone, wondering if he wasn't more tan when we met first. He was breathing heavily, and I could smell a strong dose of Liquor in the air.

'Oh hi,' I let out hastily, mentally cursing myself for sounding so awkward and nervous.

'Daddy, you don't look so good.' Timothy observed, and I couldn't help but agree with him.

Russell looked deathly pale, and I was quickly worried as to what could be ailing him. I opened my mouth to ask, but I was interrupted by him hurriedly ushering Timothy inside. Ordering the Boy to go upstairs and get his homework done. I could see him holding on to his stomach, but his hand was hidden under his blazer. Though it felt like I was imposing, I glanced at his hand underneath his shirt, taking notice of a dark-red stain. My eyes bulged immediately, as I realized that it was just what I feared it was.


With natural instincts kicking in, I grabbed away his shirt. Gasping loudly as blood spilled between his fingers, unto his light-blue undershirt.

'Oh my goodness Mr. Adams you should go see a Doctor.' I shouted as his pale face down at me, he tried forcing a smile but I only glared at him.

His expression soured immediately, and his annoyance wafted off him in waves. I was horrified, but I was taught first aid years ago. My instincts weren't telling me to run, and he seemed to be on the verge of death. So I pushed the door open, gently grabbing unto his other hand. I pulled him into the Living Room, gazing around the room frantically, then pulled him to the Couch. It was dark brown leather, so hopefully he wouldn't stain it. I let him sit down gently, as I pulled his tense hand away from the wound.

'I asked you to drop Timothy off. I didn't want anybody coming here with that crap.' He griped and I folded my hands across my chest.

'Well obviously you needed more than that.' I quipped and he gazed up at me coldly.

'I'll be fine, just go.' He ordered but I was insistent on doing the exact opposite.

'You don't get to boss me around mister.' I retorted spinning around inside the surprisingly messy living room. I had begun to wonder if he ever did anything besides sweep the place.

There were clothes around the handles of the couch, and Russell's regular Leather Jacket sprawled over the back. I spotted a box of Pizza, half open on a side table next to the smallest of the four Couches. I was itching to clean up, but I guess he was just too overwhelmed to clean himself. Though the mess didn't look recent, neither did the box of Pizza.

'Just go,' he let out a pained groan and my instincts kicked in once again. throwing me onto the couch next to him.

Blood gushed from the wound no bigger than half an inch, and my eyes widened in horror. How did he end up getting shot? I was wondering if Timothy had seen, but luckily he had already gone upstairs to do his homework. I was glad the Boy couldn't see this, for it would only terrify him. Russell made a good call, sending him upstairs. Yet I could imagine what he would feel, for I was distraught. My biggest fear facing me right then and there.

'Mr. Adams this is wound isn't fresh.' I shouted spinning around, and flying up from the couch. There was a stairway leading to a second floor, and I gazed around seeing if I could spot the Bathroom.

'Are you going to help me get this bullet our or not?' He asked with a low grunt and I frowned down at him.

'Timothy!' I called and a few short seconds the boy bustled downstairs to my side.

I began to wonder why he wasn't horrified by his father, bleeding out on the couch right before him. But the thoughts I had were drifted away as I tried thinking of a way to stop him from dying in front of his Son. As it turned out, Russell was hidden from the boy, and I was slightly relieved that the rear of the couch faced the staircase.

'Do you have tweezers?' I asked the boy and he nodded a yes.

'We have a first aid kit,' he spoke and I nudged him. 'Is Daddy ok?'He asked concerned and I hurriedly sent him off.

'Go get the First Aid Kit, and bring a lighter as well. Your Father is fine.' I ordered quickly, and Timothy didn't hesitate. He ran off back up the stairs and I turned around, going back to the couch to the man who writhed in pain.

I lifted his shirt, and grimaced as I gazed at the wound. Swollen, and slowly gushing out blood. I was petrified, with adrenaline racing through my veins. I spotted a counter, and realized the Kitchen stood right ahead of us, and I ran to it. Searching for anything I could use to help stop the blood. There were only Paper Towels, but I was sure they wouldn't help stop the bleeding. I thought about making a tourniquet, but it was a lower body wound. Which didn't seem to hit any vital organs, for by the look of the wound. It had already been quite a few hours since he got shot. Meaning Russell would have been dead after a few minutes, of the wound being inflicted.

'The bullet is poisoning you.' I whispered as his face began to pale even more so than before, and my heart raced inside my chest. 'How did you get shot Mr. Adams?' I asked but he ignored my question entirely, offering me a pained look of annoyance.

Setting the stubborn man down was a hard task, for he kept resisting the help I offered. But I pinned him down and the pain he felt was obvious, for his left hand gripped into my side as I held him down on the couch. A strange spark, flew up my spine and I fought to keep my head clear. The thoughts I suddenly had were irrelevant, but I couldn't help it either way.

'Don't move.' I ordered and his body became almost still, but he appeared nervous for his body jerked slightly beneath my hands. I could see the life draining from his eyes, so the tweezer wasn't going to be of much help.

I've only ever done it once before, but I could do it again. I spun around and spotted a bottle of whiskey on the wooden center table, a glass discarded beside it. I grimaced as I grabbed the bottle and lifted his shirt up, to find his taut muscles flexing and releasing as he convulsed in pain. My fingers shook as I gazed at the wound, blood oozing from the small hole below his left ribcage.

'Ok, this might hurt a little.' I added and he grunted, clutching onto my hand with a vice-like grip.

'Just do it,' he breathed heavily and I breathed heavily before I doused the wound with the whiskey.


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