Little Miss Villain by M. A. Stewart

Author:M. A. Stewart [Stewart, M. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2020-07-11T05:00:00+00:00

15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Where do we put her?” Drew asked, breathing heavily. We struggled to carry La Leona’s dead weight into my apartment.

“The table,” I said. We shuffled her through the kitchen and lifted her onto the dining table, flipping her onto her stomach carefully.

Drew surveyed her with bloodshot eyes. “She looks bad. We should have taken her to a hospital.”

“I know how to help her. I can do this.”

He laid a placating hand on my wrist. “Carmen–”

“I can do it!” I covered my face for a moment, breathing deeply, digging my knuckles into the sensitive flesh of my eyes. White sparks danced across my eyelids. I dropped my arms. “In the hall closet, there’s a first aid kit on the floor. It’s big and black. You can’t miss it.” Drew nodded and left.

I ran into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and raced back to La Leona to cut the fabric of her jacket away from her wound. My fingers gingerly danced across her skin, and my hands came away red. I grabbed a thick dishcloth from the counter and bound it around the glass stuck in her back.

Drew rushed back with a giant plastic tub in his arms. “I’ve never seen such a big first aid kit before.”

“This isn’t your usual kit.” I grabbed the tub and placed it on the floor by a table leg, quickly removing the lid to reveal piles of pills, needles, bandages, pliers, and other medical tools that weren’t found among a standard home’s first aid supplies.

He removed a case of syringes from the container. “Whoa, you even have shots of adrenaline. This is basically a miniature doctor’s office. Why do you have all this stuff?”

“When you live with criminals, you grow up knowing the hospital will never be an option.” I picked out the necessary supplies to disinfect Leona’s wound and stitch up her cut. “You have to become proficient in at-home surgery, and you develop a strong stomach.”

He pointed at the glass shard. “You’ve done this a lot then? Removed glass and administered stitches?”

“And took out bullets and knives, set broken noses and ribs, cauterized a wound, induced vomiting. The works.” His face paled, and I smiled. “Come on, Mr. Paramedic. Don’t tell me this stuff scares you?”

“The only thing that scares me is that you don’t seem to recognize how abnormal any of this is,” he said slowly.

I swallowed and faced La Leona, hiding the discomfort on my face. “Like it or not, it’s my life. I can’t change how I was raised.”

“No, but you don’t have to live like this forever. You can be better than this.”

I rounded on him, a packaged needle brandished in my hand like a tiny sword. “Here’s the thing. I’m not better. This is the life I was born into, it’s the only life I can imagine for myself. Stop acting like I have some higher calling.”

He scoffed. “Which villain in your life has fed you those lines before?”

“No one you’ll ever meet,” I muttered. “Quit acting like a cheesy life coach and help me.

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