#p 5

“Am—am I dead?” you whimpered. Was this an angel guiding you to heaven? It must be.

“You’re very much alive,” the stranger replied, crouching to your cowering form. “But you do have quite a few wounds, signora. Please, come with me and I’ll patch them up.”

Fog clouded your mind. You nodded wordlessly, thanking the stranger quietly as he helped you up and guided you out of the alley.

Before you knew it, you arrived at a quaint townhouse nestled between two larger buildings. Your savior opened the door for you, guiding you in and gesturing to a wooden chair. “Sit. I’ll grab some bandages.”

He locked the door behind him, the handsome stranger heading into another room and disappearing from sight.

You took a breath, your adrenaline wearing off, leaving you in pain and drowsy. What the hell just happened? The last thing you recalled was walking home from a party, then getting attacked, leading you to run into an alleyway. Was that thing really a vampire? Or just a weird stranger?

You froze at a sudden realization. Did your attacker die at the hands of this man? You weren’t paying attention, and your rescuer’s figure was blocking the body of the man. You supposed it didn’t matter. He did try to kill you. Maybe he deserved it.

You cringed at your own dark thoughts, instead directing your attention to your many scratches. Dozens of claw marks blemished your skin, dried blood clumping around them. You smelt like sweat and blood. Luckily, your attacker didn’t leave any wounds large enough to kill.

Your short dress was ruined—stained and dirtied by your scuffle. Without seeing your face, you knew your makeup was ruined—probably running down your face with your tears and smeared around grossly. 

You slid the spaghetti straps off your arms, the pressure hurting the wounds decorating your shoulders. You wanted to take a hot bath and sleep for a week.

The black-haired stranger entered the room once more, arms filled with various medical items. He set them all down on a table before sitting in a chair across from you.

“This will sting quite a bit, but I need to disinfect all of your wounds. Vampires can carry deadly diseases, especially underneath their nails.”

“So. . . it was a vampire then? I wasn’t imagining it?”

You let out a whimper of pain as he began dabbing at your wounds with a cotton bud and disinfectant. He gave you an apologetic look.

“There’s no easy way to tell you about all this. But yes. That was a vampire. And I hunt them.”

“If I wasn’t just eaten, I’d say you’re full of shit,” you replied. “Why was that thing after me?”

“Food, maybe,” he said, pulling his chair closer to dab at the wounds on your face. You blushed at the closeness. “Or someone to turn. It’s hard to say.”

“Well,” you began, “thank you for saving me from it. I’m lucky you were there. . . I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“You can call me Bruno,” he said.

You let out a yawn, squirming impatiently as he finished cleaning your wounds. He set aside the cotton ball, grabbing bandages.

“I’m almost done, then you can rest, okay? You’ll have to sleep here so I can monitor your injuries and make sure they don’t get infected.”

In any other circumstance you’d never spend the night at a stranger’s house, but you figured since he saved your life he was decently trustworthy.

“Thank you, again, Bruno,” you said.

“Of course,” he replied, finishing bandaging your wounds. He nodded at his work. “I’ll lead you to a room you can stay in, and give you a change of clothes.”

It wasn’t long before you were standing in the doorway of a bedroom, an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants donning your form. You smiled sleepily at Bruno. “Good night, Bruno,” you mumbled. “And if this was all just a dream or nightmare, I want you to know you’re the sweetest thing my mind has ever thought of.”