Sick by HumbleGoddess

The Devil and the Angel

"I'm going on dinner break," Kagome yelled to her boss in the lobby. "Come back quick, lots of customers tonight!!" Sango yelled over the racket of 50 edgy customers. Kagome walked out the door, turned left, and started down the street. She hadn't gone two meters when she heard a moan. It was male, she could tell by the baritone rumble of the voice. But it sounded barely human, in incredible pain. She ran into the alley and looked right and left. 'Oh my god, someone here must be really hurt.' Then she found him. Crumpled on top of a bag of garbage, he was tall and lean and wearing a torn up, muddied dress shirt and pants. He had extremely long hair that trailed over his shoulders, down his back, and to his ankles, where it swayed softly, white and glistening. For a fleeting moment Kagome thought he might be old, but the thought left as fast as it came. His well-muscled, six-pack chest heaved with the effort of breathing, his labored pants raking through his lungs like gravel. The only wound he had was a hit to the stomach, but only isn't the appropriate word. It was bleeding openly, blood gushing like molten lava into the gutters and between the cobblestones. Kagome knelt by his side and shuffled through her purse for a handkerchief. She pulled it out with a small "Ah hah!" of triumph, and wet it with her water bottle. She dabbed at his wound, trying not to watch as he grit his teeth in pain. When she touched a certain spot, he screamed with pain. Then she felt it. A sharp tip, tearing through his flesh. She cleaned it and saw its evil metallic sheen reflect the light of the streetlamps. A bullet was stuck in this man's stomach.

She carried him to her apartment, half-dragging his body up the stair and through the door. He left blood marks all down the hallway. 'Mental note: clean that up or neighbors will wonder whom it was I killed.' She had no idea where to put him. This produced an issue, because he was leaving red puddles on her carpet. She dragged him into the bathroom and put him in the tub. She grabbed a towel, wet it in the sink, and started dabbing at the edges of the wound. Once he had relaxed a little, she got closer and closer to the main wound. 'One, two, three...' She touched the bullet hole. He bolted up in the tub, screamed, and then fainted dead away. The pain had been too much for his mind to handle.

She spent the night cleaned up his wound. An hour after she had begun, she pulled out the bullet. She put it in one of the Bio Hazard bags of her First Aid Kit and dropped it on the counter. She stayed by him the whole night, tears sliding down her cheeks. How he must have suffered, all alone, with no one to help him, in a dark alley for ages. She lightly kissed his forehead, leaning on the rim of the bathtub and closing her eyes.