Skin to Skin Ch. 04

"Mmm, describe his behavior to me," she instructed.

"When he first showed up, he was alert but he was trembling. He has thrown up in my backyard. He was holding onto his stomach too."

"He must've been in pain. How is he feeling right now?" she asked.

"He's asleep right now. He has taken two pills he had on him."

"Do you know the name of the pills?"

"The pills' name is buprenorphine," I informed her.

"Buprenorphine? Where in the hell did he get those painkillers from?"

I knew that her question was a rhetorical question, but I answered it anyway. "I don't know."

"Buprenorphine are the type of painkillers that are not sold in an 'over-the-counter' pharmacy. You need a prescription for those pills. Maybe your friend has gone to a hospital already," reasoned Jessie.

"I doubt it," I told her. "My friend wouldn't have gone to the hospital, because he knew that the police would've been called."

"Aaah," she sang in a smart-alecky way. "So, he is in one of those types of situations, huh?" Her voice sounded amused.

"Yeah, it is one of those situations."

"Mmm, my daddy was a 'back alley doctor' when he first started out. I guess it's going to be a family business now," she mused.

Despite having unsung tears stinging my eyeballs and my soul feeling as if it was crushing into tiny bits, I laughed at Jessie's joke.

"That's better," she hummed. "I hate to hear you sound so bummed out," she told me. Then she went 'back to business'. "How many of those pills did you give him?"

"I gave him two pills," I informed her.

"You should've given him just one pill."

"I don't think one pill would've helped him. He is a pretty big guy."

"How big is he?" she asked, intrigued.

"He's about six-foot-six—

"Damn, he is a big boy!" she claimed.

I smiled. "Yeah, he is big."

"How long has he been asleep?" she asked.

"For about fifteen minutes," I told her.

"Okay, what I need for you to do is make him lay down in a bed. He needs to be in a prone position, he needs to lay on his back. He will eventually irritate those cuts by sitting upright, okay?"

I nodded my head as I said "Okay" into the phone.

"Do you at least, know when he received those wounds?" she asked.

"I think it had to be on Friday evening or Friday night," I told her.

"Okay, so that means that I am able to clean those wounds when I am examining him. Before you show him to a bed, I advise you to use some old bed sheets and also place a shower curtain on the bare mattress. If he bleeds on your bed sheets, then the mattress won't get dirty because of the shower curtain."

"Okay," I said into the phone while I memorized her instructions.

"Let's see, it is..." Her voice trailed off. I assumed that she was checking the time off of her phone. "It is 12:58A.M. right now. My shift ends in about four hours. I'll head home, take a brief nap, go over to my dad's office and steal—I mean—borrow some of his supplies. I should be over to your place before ten A.M. Is that okay for you?"

A chill ran down my spine as the sense of relief poured into my spirit. I felt so relieved that my eyes had begun to water again. "Yeah, it's okay. I think that we will be okay until then."

"Alright," she hummed. "Now, I want you to do something."

"What is it?"

"Do you have any alcohol in your house?" she asked me.

"Alcohol?" I said into the phone. I didn't know if she was referring to rubbing alcohol or if she was talking about liquor.

"Yeah, alcohol, you know: brandy, gin, whiskey, beer, wine, vodka... You know, alcohol?"

"Oh, yes, I do have alcohol," I told her.

"Good, now, I want you to take whatever you have and I want you to have a drink. I want you to do whatever it takes to get you relaxed," she informed me. "Okay?"

I understood what she meant and she was right: I did need to relax. I was scared, stressed and also confused. This night was unbelievable. "Alright," I told her.

"Good, now I will see you later, alright? Have a good night, Lo."

"I'll see you later, Jessie. Thanks for everything."

"You're welcome. Bye-bye for now."

"Bye."

I disconnected the call and placed my cell phone onto the coffee table again. The plastic phone had made a harsh noise against the wooden tabletop as it slammed against the surface. I flinched and glanced over at Malachi. He was still sleeping. I stared at him for a few seconds before I was reminded of Jessie's advice. I needed to re-locate him to a bed.

'Bed... Bed... I need to change the bed sheets,' I concluded. I gave Malachi's sleeping and slumping form one more glance before I exited the den and back to my bedroom. Once I was inside of the room, I fixed the bed in the way that Jessie had instructed me.

After the king-sized mattress was dressed up, I returned to the den so I could wake up my injured house guest and help him to bed. Malachi was still sleeping on the couch when I returned. I walked over to the couch and stood in front of his legs. I bent slightly at the waist and I grabbed a hold of his right shoulder.

"Malachi," I softly said to him as I shook his shoulder. "Come on, honey, it's time to wake up." I continued to shake him while hoping that he would wake up. "Malachi," I repeated after a small amount of time had passed. "You have to wake up." My hand left his shoulder and started gently tapping his right cheek. "Malachi, wake up, honey" I commanded in a firmer voice. I was greeted by a loud groan. Seconds later, he began to squirm in his seat. A minute later, his left eye opened and my face was subjected to his dull stare. "Come on, I am going to show you where you are going to sleep for the night," I informed him. I listened to my former lover-slash-guest-slash-patient groan in protest. It reminded me of a cranky pre-teen who was forced to wake up. "Yeah, yeah, yeah" I giggled. "You still are going to have to move."

I bent further and picked up his limp left hand. My right fingers gripped onto his appendage with a firm grip. His hand emitted such warmth that was comforting. I lifted his left arm up and gave it a gentle tug. Malachi understood the action, because he stood up a few seconds later. His movement was slow and calculated. Once he stood on his feet, his large body swayed a little. It was a clear sign that he was still under the influence of that drug.

"Okay, let me show you to your room," I announced as I walked ahead of him. I still held onto his hand as I walked.

Before I had woken Malachi up, I expected for this task to be a pain in the ass. After all, he was a tall man that weighed close to three-hundred pounds and he was under the influence of a strong drug. Our travel from the den to the bedroom had gone on without a hitch. His movements were slow, which was something that I was expecting. His gait was never straight and he did veer off, but I steered him onto the right path. I made sure he didn't bump into any surfaces as he walked. I was either walking behind him or beside him. Once we entered my bedroom, I guided him to the left side of the bed. He was about to sit on the edge of the mattress when I grabbed onto his hips. He understood my request even when he was in this state.

"Hold on," I told him. "I want to take your clothes off first." I realized that the last statement could've been misconstrued as being sexual, even before the last syllable from the last word was spilled from my mouth. My chubby cheeks felt the subtle buzzing of a blush, as a result.

My fingers grabbed a hold of his jacket and then began to carefully peel off the clothing from his skin. With every careful movement, I stared at his face to see if I was causing him any discomfort. I was met with an impassive expression whenever I made a glance. Once the jacket was off, I tossed it to the floor. The action was a subtle reminder for me to toss the clothes into the trash. I surveyed his nude torso and I silently wondered how Malachi was able to travel from wherever he was staying to my house. His arms, neck and shoulders were also abused as well. Unlike the three severe lashes on his chest and stomach, these were small scratches. They appeared less painful than the others. I had come to the conclusion that he was tortured.

My fingers grabbed ahold of the elastic waistband that was a part of his sweatpants. I slipped my fingers underneath the stretchy fabric and my skin brushed up against heated, bare skin. I made a glimpse at Malachi's mangled face before I mustered up all of the professionalism that I possessed. Without looking directly at his lower body, I slowly peeled his sweatpants off of his legs until I reached his ankles.

"You can lay down now," I told him as I stared at his sneaker-clad feet.

I sensed his movement while my ears listened to the sounds of his joints popping, as well as, his occasional grunts. He removed his feet from my sight when he lifted his legs into the air and then rested them on the bed. He was oblivious that his sneakers were still on his feet and his sweatpants were dangling from his ankles. I quickly removed each item. I tossed them onto the floor, on top of the discarded jacket. These were more items that needed to be tossed out into the trash. After I stripped his ankles and his feet, I carefully covered his lower body with the thin bed sheet. I neatly folded the remaining sheet and placed it on his waist. Once again, those lacerations had caught my attention again and I ended up focusing on them. His skin didn't look like it was a part of a human being, but it belonged to a mangled up animal that was left by a roadside. A sense of nausea had tickled the back of my throat. To avoid the act of vomiting on my best friend's brother, I turned my attention to his other injuries. I glimpsed at the bruised skin and the scrapes. My eyes had taken in the litany of scars that marred his beautiful face. Then I turned my attention to the thick-looking scar that decorated his left pectoral, the same spot where his swastika tattoo used to be. Curiosity consumed me as I glared at the marked skin. With my left hand, I reached towards his body and placed my fingertips on the scar. My fingertips felt the dull throbbing that his heart made underneath the layers of flesh, muscle and bone. The heartbeats provided me with some solace. It had let me know that he was still alive and possibly out of Death's hands.

The pads of my fingertips dragged across the rugged-looking skin. I was surprised by the skin's texture. The scar was smooth but hard. Then I realized something. 'The skin is hard. It is a burn' I said to myself as I stared at his wound. My fingertips provided a sweeping caress. 'It is too hard. It's old...' I realized that the scar had to have been created at an earlier time. I guessed that it was a few weeks older than the scars that marred the rest of his body. The mental image of Malachi burning his tattoo off played in my head. "But why would he burn his tattoo off of his chest?" I questioned myself.

Then I was reminded of Lynn's statement from earlier in the day. "We're his family: Me, Ma, Mama Pat and you too!" It was followed by snippets of the dream that I experienced, seven weeks ago. In my head, I saw images of little red-haired boys scrapping, chubby-cheeked girls with mismatched braids giggling, an array of children's faces as they called me "Mom" and a face that strongly resembled the sleeping man that laid in my bed at the moment. I pulled my fingers away from Malachi's prone body as if he was a pit of fire and I just burned my fingers. I quickly removed myself away from his bedside and walked to the foot of the bed, where his pile of clothes lain. I gathered the clothes and sneakers in my arms as if I was plucking gold from out of a stream. With my gait being short and quick steps, I hightailed it out of that bedroom and into the hallway. I had taken that pile of dirty clothes into the kitchen where I placed them into a trash bag.

'A little bit of air should help me clear my head,' I concluded as I tied a chunky knot into the bag.

I left the house and had gone outside, a few minutes later. I had to toss the bag of soiled clothes into the garbage bin. After I completed my task, I climbed up to the wooden deck that overlooked my backyard. I relaxed myself against the wooden railing and I stared out at my yard. I tried focusing on my poorly-kempt yard, but my houseguest kept taking up my attention.

I thought about his health: Will his injuries cause his health to deteriorate? Will he recuperate? I thought about his family: Should I tell Lynn about her brother's assault? Should I tell Mama Patrick instead? I thought about the person, or people, who are responsible for his injuries: Are these the same people who are in the "brotherhood" with him? Did any of them follow him after he escaped from wherever they stored him? Does these people know where Malachi hiding? I thought about the next day: Will Malachi remember all of this? Will he freak out? Is he going to try to leave after he regains consciousness?

Then, my thought process strayed when I heard my brain utter something.

'Four, eight, twelve, sixteen, twenty, twenty-four and twenty-eight steps backward,' I heard my brain say.

A wave of disappointment had flooded my spirit. 'Shit, shit, shit, shit...' I chanted in my head. I believed that I was on the right path to redemption. I was on my way of removing this man from out of my heart. Somehow, he had managed to force his way back in.

And the fucked up thing about it was the fact that Malachi didn't even know what he had done to me.

------------- ~oMRo~ -------------------

Author's Note:

I wanted to leave a little note here to let you guys (and gals) know that I really do appreciate each and every one of you, including the anonymous people who doesn't know how to write a proper critique.

I hope that each and everyone of you have an awesome new year. I hope that you all will have more up's than down's this year. And if you do have a 'down period' at any point, I want you to know that I hope that you'll pull through.

I also want to give a shout-out to the sensational TheLovely1Glo for the editing skills. Once again, thank you.

One final note, if you haven't notice, I had decided to upgrade this story from being a short story to a full-length one. But, I am kind of stumped when it comes to future ideas. I would appreciate some suggestions. You can either put some in the comments section or send me a private message.

Once again, I love you folks.