BABY novel Chapter 8

I don't have a pair though, I've been so busy with Baby that I forgot to have a life of my own and to take care of it.

"Angelica, do you have a first-aid?" I heard Veronica question, I try to think but then remember that I don't own one as well.

"Uh no, do you want me to head outside and buy one?"

"No, it's all right. I'll go, I don't want this old idiot to nag me about how I lied to him." I see her head out the door before I could say anything else.

The apartment became quiet, I bit my lip and continue working. I grab my cup full of water and drip it on the floor. A few droplets touched my feet as the water jumped up.

I drag the mop back and forth. I was only moving the residents of blood and it looked worse. I needed Clorox. I sigh as I set my mop to the side.

Before I could even get the Clorox, I head a groan of pain from the bathroom.

I stay in place, I should hate him for putting words on my skin that are permanent and such in an obvious place.

But why did I expected better of him?

I should be angry that he wanted me to become a prostitute at his club just for me to stop my story on him, I guess that was the reason?

But, I wasn't. I... pity him? He protects the ones he loves in his own ways. He killed people for Veronica. At that moment I forget something.

My tape recorder, I never stopped it.

This may be good at the end, at last. As I approach the tape, Baby groans again. Does he need my help?

I curse myself as my feet start moving the opposite direction of the tape recorder and see the bathroom door half-way open.

I push the door fully open making it creak. I see him holding on to his wound as he sat on the border of my tub. Not much blood oozed out from his stomach wound but it was still bleeding.

I grab the towel from my hanger and start to approach. "What are you doing?" I ignore his question as I sit beside him on the tub.

Folding my towel, I push it against his wound. He winced and banged his head behind the tiled wall. "Why did you tattooed this to me?" It may not be the best moment to ask but I don't know if I may see him again.

He covered my hand with his bloody one, he smirked before answering.

"You would make me lots of money, you would bring lots of men to my club. I planned on never seeing you again, but you just keep appearing whenever there's a problem." His voice was now soft and delicate.

Even though he said something awful, his words made them sound okay.

How was that possible?

I may have a mental problem?

A disorder?

"I won't be that prostitute that you dream of. I'm not a thing you can just put in the market. I don't know why you forced all those girls at the club--"

"Even if I'm a coward or a worthless piece of shit, I have never forced a woman into anything. They agreed because I pay them good. Not everything in the world is about pride, money sometimes overpowers that fact."

I cough and look away. He made more pressured into his wound, making my hand flush deeper. The bathroom became hot as silence took over our situation.

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