Brea Mitchell
Brea flinched as Deen grabbed her shoulders with almost inhuman strength and ducked her head away. "I don't know how he found me! He just did!" She clenched her shoulders until he let go, and shuffled away from him a little, but not a great distance. "I am sorry... did I hurt you? Everything was just so... overwhelming. I am glad that you managed to escape." He backed away from her as well, seeming alarmed by something and she shrugged. The last thing she needed was another rough guy, and she really hoped Deen wasn't one. He stood and offered her a hand, which she took after a moment's hesitation and allowed him to pull her up. Looking into his eyes, she did not see pity, which she was grateful of. The one thing she hated about sharing her story was the pity. Instead, she saw simple concern, and was comforted by it. "It's fine, I would probably do the same thing," she said, realizing she never answered him.
"Come, let's treat your injury first," he said and she nodded, walking through the door he held open for her. She allowed him to catch up before walking into the emergency room and up to the counter.
"Hi, how can I help you?" The nurse said, looking up at her. As if it isn't obvious, Brea thought but only smiled in return.
"My friend here insisted that I get this bump on my head checked out. I tripped in my apartment," she said, jerking her shoulder towards Deen. It wasn't a total lie, she did fall in her apartment, it just wasn't because of spilled water on the floor or some other trivial accident.
"Sure thing. Have a seat over there and the doctor will come get you in a moment," the nurse said and Brea nodded, taking a seat in the waiting chairs. The ER wasn't as busy as it usually was this time of night, and Brea was grateful. The last thing she wanted was bustling, puking, kids who didn't have a 24-hour pediatrician.
The doctor came out and called her name, and she began to stand. "Wait here," she told Deen, "I'll be out in a moment." She followed the doctor back to the exam room tiredly, leaving her jacket on the chair beside him.
***
Twenty minutes later, Brea walked out with four stitches and an ugly white bandage on her forehead. Retrieving her coat, she paid the doctor the small fee for the stitches and walked out, waiting for Deen to follow her. "Thanks for taking me, I guess it was a little worse than I thought," she said. She rocked on her heels and bit her lip. She knew she didn't want to ask him, she really really didn't want to ask him, but at the same time she was nervous to return alone. "If you don't...that is if you don't mind..." she blew out a frustrated breath at her awkwardness, "could you walk me to my apartment after we get back to the city? I don't know if there will be something waiting for me when I get there."
Brea flinched as Deen grabbed her shoulders with almost inhuman strength and ducked her head away. "I don't know how he found me! He just did!" She clenched her shoulders until he let go, and shuffled away from him a little, but not a great distance. "I am sorry... did I hurt you? Everything was just so... overwhelming. I am glad that you managed to escape." He backed away from her as well, seeming alarmed by something and she shrugged. The last thing she needed was another rough guy, and she really hoped Deen wasn't one. He stood and offered her a hand, which she took after a moment's hesitation and allowed him to pull her up. Looking into his eyes, she did not see pity, which she was grateful of. The one thing she hated about sharing her story was the pity. Instead, she saw simple concern, and was comforted by it. "It's fine, I would probably do the same thing," she said, realizing she never answered him.
"Come, let's treat your injury first," he said and she nodded, walking through the door he held open for her. She allowed him to catch up before walking into the emergency room and up to the counter.
"Hi, how can I help you?" The nurse said, looking up at her. As if it isn't obvious, Brea thought but only smiled in return.
"My friend here insisted that I get this bump on my head checked out. I tripped in my apartment," she said, jerking her shoulder towards Deen. It wasn't a total lie, she did fall in her apartment, it just wasn't because of spilled water on the floor or some other trivial accident.
"Sure thing. Have a seat over there and the doctor will come get you in a moment," the nurse said and Brea nodded, taking a seat in the waiting chairs. The ER wasn't as busy as it usually was this time of night, and Brea was grateful. The last thing she wanted was bustling, puking, kids who didn't have a 24-hour pediatrician.
The doctor came out and called her name, and she began to stand. "Wait here," she told Deen, "I'll be out in a moment." She followed the doctor back to the exam room tiredly, leaving her jacket on the chair beside him.
***
Twenty minutes later, Brea walked out with four stitches and an ugly white bandage on her forehead. Retrieving her coat, she paid the doctor the small fee for the stitches and walked out, waiting for Deen to follow her. "Thanks for taking me, I guess it was a little worse than I thought," she said. She rocked on her heels and bit her lip. She knew she didn't want to ask him, she really really didn't want to ask him, but at the same time she was nervous to return alone. "If you don't...that is if you don't mind..." she blew out a frustrated breath at her awkwardness, "could you walk me to my apartment after we get back to the city? I don't know if there will be something waiting for me when I get there."