Let Me
SARAH
It goes quiet again. Maybe I imagined it? But then—another knock.
I throw the blanket off and slip out of bed. Cautiously, I walk to the window. I pull the curtains aside and look out into the night.
Nothing. But something pushes me. Something tells me to open it. I remember locking it earlier today. I know I did. So I unlock it now. I open it.... And that’s when it pushes open.
And I see him... He stumbles in, and I kind of help him through the window. He’s not in good condition
and didn’t make it out unscathed.
He stumbles forward, and I quickly reach out, grabbing his arm before he can fall to the floor.
“Jesus, Cullen,” I whisper sharply, dragging him toward the bed. “What happened to you?”
He groans but doesn’t answer, just sits on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, his hand pressed against his side.
Now that he’s inside and I have turned on the light, I can see him better. His lip is busted. There’s dried blood on his temple. His shirt is torn near the ribs, stained with something dark, maybe blood, maybe dirt, maybe both.
“Sit back,” I say, my voice shaking. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”
“No,” he says, grabbing my wrist. “Don’t leave.”
“Cullen,” I whisper, trying to stay calm, “you’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing,” he mutters, wincing. “Just let me sit here. I’m okay. I just… needed to see you.”
I stare at him, confused, stunned, heart pounding. “What happened?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he says, voice low. “All day. And when you didn’t call… I thought you changed your mind. I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t. So I tried coming again, but the guards today.... they weren’t messing around this time. I barely made it through.”
“You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” he says, then smiles slightly. “But I’m not giving up.”
I don’t know what to do. I want to be angry. I want to scream at him. I want to protect him. I want him gone. I want him to stay.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I say. “It’s dangerous.”
“For who?” he asks, his eyes finally meeting mine. “Me… or you?”
I don’t answer. I don’t know the answer.
“I didn’t come here to guilt you,” he says, shifting slightly with a wince. “I just needed you to know… even if you don’t call, even if you never speak to me again, I meant everything I said yesterday. I’m not the same man, Sarah. I’m trying.”
I swallow hard. “Let me help clean you up.”
He nods, and I finally step away to grab the kit from my closet.
When I return, he’s still sitting there, quiet, waiting. Not touching anything. Not pushing. Just there.
And it breaks me a little. Because I remember how I once begged for him to just see me, to just be there.
And now he is. Bruised. Bleeding. And somehow… still trying.
I kneel in front of him, setting the first aid kit down between us. I open it, tearing a packet of antiseptic wipes and glancing up at him.
“This is going to sting.”
He shrugs. “Nothing worse than what I had to go through today.”
I press the wipe gently against the cut on his temple, and he hisses slightly but does not pull away. I notice how his eyes stay on me, not roaming, not shifting. Focused. Grounded. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him like this.
“You know,” I mutter, dabbing carefully, “if you keep doing things like this, you’re going to end up in a grave before I even figure out what I feel.”
He chuckles, winces. “Worth it.”
I shake my head. “You don’t get to say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s reckless. It’s manipulative. You think you’re making grand gestures, but I don’t need to be rescued. I am happy here and I am not in any hurry to leave.”
His smile fades, and he nods slowly. “I know. You’re right. I wasn’t trying to manipulate you. I swear. I just didn’t know what else to do.”
I look at the cut on his lip, then the torn edge of his shirt. “Take this off,” I say softly.
He hesitates for a second, then peels the shirt off slowly. His side is bruised, purple and blue, and there’s a scratch running along his ribs.
I try not to react. I try not to feel anything. But I do. I feel too much.
“You did this for me,” I say quietly, dabbing the scratch. “And we have no Idea if it's even going to work between us.”
“I know.”
“You could have been killed.”
“I know.”
“And still you came?”
“Absolutely,” he says, and his voice trembles slightly, “because I’ve never done anything brave in my life until I started loving you.”
I freeze. His words hang in the air between us.
“I don’t expect anything,” he continues. “I don’t expect a miracle. But I just needed you to know that. I needed you to hear it.”
I look up at him, his eyes glassy but steady, and I wonder how we got here, how the man I used to sleep beside in silence, in a room full of stone-cold distance, is now kneeling, bleeding, in front of me, whispering confessions
“I can’t promise anything,” I say. “I don’t trust you.”
“Then let me earn it.”
We stare at each other for a long time. Then I nod slowly.
“Just don’t come in through the damn window again,” I whisper.
He grins, that same stupid crooked grin he always had. “Deal.”
I roll my eyes, but my chest feels lighter somehow.
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