Chapter Four
Camila slipped off the bed, but she still felt weak and nauseous. She stumbled a bit before getting her feet firmly beneath her, then followed Adrien as he made his way back to the living room. He had clearly prepared everything, the bag with the supplies already set opened on the table.
Did he try to do it himself before he came to me?
He probably had but failed to do it. The wound was in a hard to reach place, after all. It was toward the back of his shoulder, so she wasn’t surprised it gave him trouble when he tried to do it himself.
“Don’t fucking breathe on me, Camila,” Adrien complained, nose wrinkled as he leaned away as much as possible. “In fact, if you can, don’t breathe at all. And go wash your fucking hands. I don’t want any of your germs.”
She bit down on her lip. “I could open up the windows for fresh air. I can't do this without breathing at all, Adrien.”
He sneered but didn’t say a thing, so she took it as agreement. She stood up and went to open the windows and curtains. As long as she kept up the sick front, she would be safe, and she planned on keeping it up for as long as possible. She moved into the kitchen and ran the water, she debated not actually washing them, but was afraid he might check them, so she added a tiny bit of soap and rubbed her palms together and rinsed them. When she went back to sit next to him, she made sure to keep a good distance between them.
“You washed them well?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
Camila held her still slightly damp hands up. “Of course.”
He gave her a nod and turned away from her so she could reach the wound. He had already pulled off his shirt, so she started to carefully undo the bandages.
It wasn’t until she’d peeled a few layers of the bandage that she saw some spots of blood, so that was promising. She pulled the bandage all the way off and took a look at the wound.
“Well, it looks like it’s stopped bleeding, at least.”
“Really?” Adrien said. “Then why does it hurt?”
Probably because there’s still a bullet in it?she thought to herself.
Though, there could be more than that. The wound might no longer be bleeding, but it was seeping, and didn’t seem to be healing much at all. It had been more than a week, probably closer to two, and she didn’t think that was enough time for the wound to be closed completely, but it didn’t look like it had even started.
“It should be fine if you took some painkillers,” she said. Although, antibiotics might be better. Good thing we don’t have any, at least I don't think so. “Wounds tend to hurt while they’re still healing up, you’ll be feeling the pain for a while. There are stronger painkillers in your med kit than the Ibuprofen we have around the house, right?”
He sighed. “I don’t think so. I haven’t really seen any in there, but drinking does help.”
Camila arched an eyebrow. Was that the reason he was almost always drinking now? But there could only be so much alcohol around the house, right? They were going to run out eventually.
Well, not that she cared. If she wasn’t wrong, the wound was going to be a problem for a while. By the time they ran out of alcohol, he should be weak enough that she could take him on easily. It would take a while, though.
Why haven’t I been found yet?
Just how well had Adrien covered his tracks? It couldn’t be that great, considering he had both an injured shoulder and a passed out woman with him. She didn’t think he’d received help from anyone from the time he got to the mansion and kidnapped her or it wouldn’t have just been the two of them.
“I’ll clean around the wound now,” she said. “I’ll do my best to be careful and you can find something for the pain afterwards.”
“Does it really look okay?” he asked, suspicious.
Camila froze for a second. “I mean, it’s not like I’m a doctor or anything, you know, so I can't tell if it’s okay or not, but it’s usually good once blood stops flowing out, right? That’s about as much as I know.”
Adrien looked at her out the corner of his eye for a long moment, but didn’t argue.
Lucky me it’s somewhere he can't easily check up on,she thought, relieved.
She folded the bandages properly then tossed them to the floor. She would have to burn them, probably, just in case. She didn’t want to actually fall sick herself. She picked up the medical wipes from the bag and started wiping around the wound like before, making sure not to touch it.
If I add spit to the bandages again, would the wound get worse faster? It’s not possible for it to just heal itself, right…
“Are there any more canned goods down in the basement that could be brought up?” she asked, to keep him distracted. “We’ve been here for a while and we’re in the middle of nowhere. I know our meat supply is getting low in the freezer. Once our food is gone, what are we going to do?”
She deliberately said ‘we’ so he wouldn’t suspect her, or be upset. She was also hoping for an answer that would be beneficial to her. If he left her here to go look for food, that would be best for her. At the same time, though, he might try to incapacitate her before leaving so she wouldn’t run away while he was gone. If he decided to take her along, she might find chances to get someone’s attention to her plight, but what if she just got someone else stuck in her problems?