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Why did y*u help me?
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2020-08-30 17:00:42Wrapped in a towel, I stepped out of the bathroom. My waist-length hair was dripping over my shoulders. I didn't bother to dry them, instead I searched my apartment with my eyes. It was small, but modern. Everything was kept in white and glass created an elegant effect. Barefoot and without making a noise, I padded into the living room, where I had dumped the man on the sofa. I had taken care of him as much as possible. It was no longer dirty, there was also no blood to be seen and I had also taken care of its wounds. There were some advantages to having worked in the hospital for a while ... Now he was asleep, the corners of my mouth twitching at the thought of him looking like a little boy. How old was he? Twenty-five maybe? I leaned against the door frame and crossed my arms. He had slept for two days, so slowly he would have to wake up. As if on cue, his eyes opened. Again, the sight of them took my breath away. That a man could be so beautiful was incomprehensible to me. He eyed me murderously. Maybe I should be scared, but I wasn't. It could be that this Zayn was a murderer and also made the impression, but I didn't have the feeling that I was in danger yet.
"It was a mistake on your part to bring me here," he growled menacingly and sat up.
He noticed that his wounds had been taken care of and that he was wearing a new shirt. I hadn't buttoned it, I didn't know why myself. Nevertheless, I liked the sight. His hair was tousled, which made him look incredibly sexy. I let my lips curl in a mocking grin.
"Why ...", he started, but a loud and constant knock on the door made him fall silent and let me get serious.
"Open up, police!" Boomed a scratchy voice from outside through the door.
I looked back at Zayn and put my finger to my lips to signal him to be quiet.
After a few seconds I went to the front door, which I opened hesitantly.
"Can I help you?" I said in a high and girlish voice, through the crack in the door.
It couldn't hurt to play country innocence.
"V-sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." Stuttered the officer, who gave me red cheeks. Despite the few inches that the door was only open, he had noticed that I was only wrapped in a towel.
"Come on in, I'll just put something on quickly." I said with a smile and opened the door completely. I held out my arm invitingly. I led him into the kitchen, from where he couldn't see into the living room. I quickly disappeared into the bedroom, where I slipped into shorts and shirt.
"So how can I help you?" I asked innocently and sat down at the kitchen table across from him. I spared my manners and didn't offer him anything to drink, it sure wouldn't take long. I bowed my head coquettishly, whereupon the somewhat plump man with the thinning hair scratched the back of his head. He pulled out a pen and pad.
"It was reported to us that you helped a criminal to escape," he got to the point. I looked at him, playfully shocked.
"What? A criminal? Who are you talking about? ”, My voice slid a few octaves higher. The officer got serious and adjusted his hat.
"You were out with Milla Patricks two days ago, is that correct?"
I nodded. Then came the next question.
"You were on your way home and took a shortcut through an alley, right?"
Again nodded. The man made a note, then looked at me again.
"You met Zayn Vaher, correct?"
I pretended not to know what to do and swallowed conspicuously several times.
“There was an injured man lying there and Milla told me who he was. I didn't know him, however. Milla wanted to run away with me, but I thought about not helping him. Then she ran away. I really wanted to help him, but then got scared and ran home. "I whispered girlishly. The man wrote down hastily. All you heard was the pen scratching on the paper.
"Why didn't you call the police?" He asked and looked at me again.
Was that what I imagined or did I see a flash of suggestion in his eyes? Anger flared up in me for a moment, but I pushed it aside. Instead, I shrugged my shoulders like a child.
“I was scared. And Milla wanted to call the police, that's why I didn't do it. "I confessed quietly and looked at him with bowed head. The officer sighed.
"All right, that would be all then."
He got up, I followed suit, but held out my arm helplessly, only to let it sink again shortly afterwards.
"When I got here I sent Milla a text message saying that I was safe at home. Didn't she tell you about it? "
He looked at me in surprise.
"No." was all he said.
Ten minutes later I was sitting alone at the kitchen table with a glass of scotch in my hand.
"You should wear something sensible before you catch a cold.", A smoky voice suddenly breathed into my ear. Coldly and without batting an eyelid, I replied:
"Says the one who crouched in an alley wearing only jeans."
Zayn took the glass from my hand and took a long swig. He closed his eyes with pleasure.
"You have taste," he said now also tonelessly and roughly grabbed my arm and then pulled me to my feet.
"Why did you help me?" He growled, his face only a few millimeters away from mine. How I would have loved to kiss him now!
"I don't owe you an answer."
I almost threw the words in his face, which is why he apparently pushed me away angrily. I slammed against the edge of the table, which digged extremely painfully into my right kidney. The bottle of scotch on the table clattered to the floor. It shattered and the golden brown liquid spread across the white tiles.
"The good scotch," I managed wistfully.
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