Chapter 7: Icy Hearts
"Shit, it hurts!" Histoire groaned in pain, her hands still firmly grasping her ankle. She did so under the notion that she could alleviate some of the pain, but it made it worse. The blue-haired man beside her noticed this and tried to pull her hands away from her foot but she did not release it.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I gave that report to your wife! I would've kept it to myself-"
"This is not the time, idiot," he said and raised her left arm up to drape it around his shoulder. He placed his other hand under her knees and stood up without any struggle. He was careful to balance himself as well and, with Histoire in his arms, he slowly walked down the stairs. He reached the bottom to see the knife she was holding laying on the carpeted floor, which caught his curiousity.
"I suppose this knife was intended for me?" He asked, looking down at her face. She frowned in pain and had the expression of distress writing all around it. For one, she was shocked to discover she forgot to lock her door. She neglected to prioritise something so important. Had it been someone else, she would have suffered something more than a sprained ankle.
"Well, when someone comes banging on your door at this time, you assume they're here to kill you," she said with a groan. What wasn't true was that whoever felt rushed to appear in such a manner would definitely have malicious intentions. It was true only in Histoire's case. She could trust no one and would open the door to no one who did not identify themselves first or came by when they were expected.
"Why... are you here at this time anyway?" She continues to speak in hopes that such a distraction would ease the pain, even just a little bit. It worked but to a limited extent. He caught on fairly quickly and went along with her idea.
"I'm on my way to work. I came by yesterday but you weren't around," he replied. Histoire figured that what he wanted to talk about must have been really urgent.
He stopped by a chair and pulled it out for her to sit in. At first, she was reluctant to unwrap her arms from around his strong neck. She feared she might fall but after he assured her she would not, she allowed him to help her sit down.
"Where's the phone? I'll call for an ambulance. I didn't bring mine-" He had already begun to move to search for the phone when he felt something tug on the sleeve of his suit top. He turned to see Histoire's arm outstretched and pulling him back, which he did.
She realised this a second later, but her arms were exposed to his eyes and he was in position to receive the perfect view of them; her scars and fingers. She quickly released his sleeve and closed her hands to hide the sight. He did not give what he saw much attention and she figured he would rather not ask any questions about what was not his business, just like how he would not want her to ask any about his business.
"Please, just... take a look at it," she said, motioning to her foot. She wanted a proper assessment of her injury to be able to decide on what to do next. Going to the hospital was not an option. The man sighed and crouched down by her legs. Histoire noticed her thighs were barely covered because she in nothing but a towel, but she would not worry about something as trivial as that.
He touched her foot and raised it slightly. Histoire winced at his touch but not because he touched the area where it hurt. His fingers were very cold and sent multiple shivers up her spine. When they brushed against the red, purplish lump that had formed in a matter of two minutes, she bit her lower lip, bringing it closer to a bleeding state. It was already tender from the abuse it received.
"Please, tell me it's just sprained. It'll be fine by tomorrow, right?... Right?" She asked and repeated herself in order to receive an assurance. The expression on his face did not mean anything pleasant.
"I'm not a doctor, but I can tell a broken bone when I see one," he replied and released her ankle, standing up straight.
"This cannot be happening," she muttered underneath her breath, "I cannot bear such a liability. Not now." She had just settled in and already she was facing another crisis.
"Your fibula might be fractured. This isn't something you can pop back into place. You'll have to be admitted-"
"I'm not going to the hospital!" She yelled at him out of frustration before he could finish his suggestion. She did not want to risk being seen in public in such a state. The reality of the danger Jotham tried to explain to her sank in at that moment. She was now more paranoid than ever. If those stalkings really were organised, someone could be waiting for the right opportunity to make a move.
She was vulnerable and defenseless. Inside the walls of the mansion was the only place she could feel safe.
"You're asinine. You have a broken bone. What do you mean you won't go to the hospital?" He was evidently irritated. What could a man do when a random woman he met a few minutes ago was injured and stubbornly refused to be assisted? She was being terribly unreasonable.
"It means what it means. Broken bone or what, I'm not leaving this place," she declared and planted her hands down on the table. She shifted all the weight to her right leg and stood up, managing to keep balance. Hopping to the stairs was an arduous task. Halfway there, her neighbour sighed and approached her, holding onto her waist.
She wanted to get to a phone to call Jotham.
"So, what's the plan? You'll wait for it to heal on its own? We all know that won't happen, Histoire." There it was again. He mentioned her name again and he spoke to her with confusion and amusement painted on his face. He wondered why she had such resolve to tolerate such an injury instead of receiving help and he was interested in seeing how far said resolve would push her.
"You said you wanted to discuss something," Histoire began, "I don't want to keep you here any longer than you should be." She ignored the painful throbbing. He could see her grimacing and trying to hide it.
"What are you afraid of? Why are you so hesitant to go to the hospital?" He asked, his questions out of context with what Histoire expected to hear. They reached the stairs and she reached out for the railing. She did not like that he ignored her question to ask his own.
"It's nothing you should be concerned with," she responded and looked up the staircase. The last step seemed so far yet it was so close.
"I won't hold a grudge over this. I suppose it's retribution for what I did to your family." Before she could attempt to climb them, she found herself in his arms again. He climbed up the stairs. For the first time, she was able to look up at his face and get a proper view of him. He was beautiful.
Apart from his masculine and well built body, his face was androgynous in appearance, his long hair contributing to that characteristic. Two locks framed his face.
Histoire was dressed in nothing but a towel. She was never comfortable with being barely dressed before strangers, and Jotham did not count as such. But she found it difficult to be embarrassed in front of the married man. In fact, now that she saw his face, she could not think of him in any risqué manner.
"Fine, this punishment alone will suffice," he said, reaching the top of the stairs, "I won't be pleased with you running your mouth off about my business and came over to tell you to forget about it. But I was surprised when I found you here. Since you understand, I won't have to resort to any threats."
She pointed down to the left hallway and he took the turn. She was close enough to hear him mutter the last part under his breath. Something about him frightened her and she wanted him to leave as soon as possible.
"What do you mean by 'surprised'? And how do you know my real name?" He entered her bedroom after he perfectly followed her directions and gently put her down on the bed. He then moved over to her swollen ankle and touched it with his hand, causing her to wince because somehow his hand was colder than before. She wanted to ask why, and before she could, a terrible shiver rang throughout her body.
Her body temperature dropped even lower, especially on her foot. In a second, she saw a transparent liquid flow from the pores of his palms. At the same moment, this liquid froze over until her joint was encased in an ice block. It was cold and she awestruck. She said nothing as she watched him at work and when he moved away she raised her foot and attempted to move the joint.
"It means what it means," he answered one of the questions but she was too occupied with her ankle to notice.
"That should help with the swelling in the meantime. Afterwards, you're free to do whatever you want. Whether it's to stay here or get some medical attention. Try not to move too much," he said. Histoire was ambivalent towards him. He admitted that he visited her to threaten her into keeping her mouth shut, yet he was concerned about her injury.
"How do you know my name?" She called out to him when he walked to the door, ready to leave as he had done what he came there for. He stopped, and, without turning to look at her, said,
"You should be able to figure that out on your own now." He then walked out of sight. Histoire was confused and unsure of what to think. She had a suspicion but was not sure on what to think. Not dwelling on the thought, she reached for her phone on her bedside table and put through a call to Jotham.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone