Chapter 331: Injured
In the evening, Isabella had dinner at the Jose family’s place and then drove Sweetie back home.
Just as she pulled up to the house, the car's headlights flickered, and she thought she saw something move in the trees.
Isabella parked, got Sweetie out, and stood there, staring into the shadows.
The streetlight gave off a warm glow, but the thick shadows under the trees made it hard to see if anyone was lurking. Still, Isabella was sure someone was there.
Seb wasn’t home yet. Holding Sweetie, Isabella didn’t want to get too close. Sweetie whimpered, and Isabella whispered to calm her down. Suddenly, there was a rustling sound from the shadows.
Isabella snapped her head up and yelled, "Who's there?"
No answer.
The spot where the noise came from was quiet again, like it was all in her head.
Isabella didn’t dare to check it out, so she carried Sweetie to the door.
Just as she unlocked it, a hand landed on her shoulder.
Isabella screamed, swatted the hand away, and slammed her back against the door with a thud.
Quentin stepped back, surprised, and chuckled, "Do I look that scary?"
Isabella squinted. "Mr. Black?"
Still shaken, she looked around, confused. "What are you doing here?"
Quentin pointed to the nearby house. "I just moved in."
Isabella suddenly remembered seeing people moving stuff into the neighboring house the past few days. She’d noticed it a few times early in the morning and knew someone new had moved in, but she hadn’t expected it to be Quentin.
"I just got back from a night run and saw you standing in the yard, so I thought I’d come over to say hi. Didn’t mean to scare you. My bad," Quentin apologized sincerely.
Isabella exhaled. "It’s pretty freaky having someone sneak up on you like that."
Isabella glanced at the shadows by the door, wondering if the person hiding there earlier was Quentin. But it didn’t seem likely; Quentin didn’t seem like the type to skulk around.
"You look pretty spooked," Quentin said, watching Isabella’s face. Then he noticed her gaze and turned to look in the same direction. Seeing the dense shadows, he frowned slightly and walked towards them.
Isabella watched in alarm and instinctively called out, "Mr. Black."
Quentin turned back and smiled. "It’s okay."
Then he walked straight to the edge of the yard.
Isabella watched as he disappeared into the darkness, feeling like it was swallowing him up, her heart pounding with worry.
But just a few seconds later, Quentin emerged from the darkness, holding a cat. It looked filthy, its eyes closed, lying limp in his hands, barely alive.
"This must be the noise maker," Quentin said.
He stroked the cat’s fur, and when he lifted his hand, his palm was stained with red.
"It’s hurt!" Isabella exclaimed.
Quentin nodded. "Got a first aid kit at home? I moved in a rush and didn’t grab one. Mind if I borrow yours?"
Isabella said, "Sure thing, I’ll grab it."
She went inside and came back with the first aid kit. Quentin had already laid the cat on the doorstep and was carefully checking out its wounds.
"Here’s the kit," Isabella handed it over, then held Sweetie and squatted nearby to watch.
Quentin's hands moved skillfully, his fingers, with their well-defined joints, were both beautiful and precise. Without a hint of disgust for the dirty cat, he patiently parted the fur and finally found the wound on the cat's belly.
"Looks like it got cut by something sharp," Quentin said, taking medical scissors from the kit and trimming the fur around the wound.
When the wound was fully exposed, Isabella gasped. "That’s a nasty cut! How did it get hurt like this?"
The wound was long and deep, with a thick scab running from its hind leg to its front leg. It was horrifying.
"It’s man-made," Quentin said, standing up and unzipping his jacket, taking it off.
"Man-made?" Isabella was even more shocked, looking at the poor cat on the ground. "Can people really be that cruel?"
As soon as Isabella finished speaking, she saw Quentin lay his jacket on the ground, then gently lift the injured cat and place it on the jacket. His actions were so gentle, treating the cat with great care, unlike others who might have just ignored it.
Isabella was deeply moved by his behavior.
Next, Quentin cleaned the blood clots from the cat, washed the wound with antiseptic, and then retrieved a long needle from the medical kit. Threading it, he carefully and meticulously stitched the terrifyingly long wound together.
Isabella stood nearby holding Sweetie, who had fallen asleep in her arms.
After what felt like forever, the wound was finally stitched up. Then Quentin took some cotton gauze from the first aid kit and carefully bandaged the wound.
The cat was so badly hurt that it barely opened its eyes throughout the process, not struggling or crying out.
Isabella was worried. "Will it make it?"
Quentin sighed. "It’s up to fate."
After finishing, Isabella noticed Quentin’s hands were covered in blood and disinfectant, even his previously clean nails were stained.
But Quentin didn’t seem to mind. After organizing the first aid kit, he closed the lid. "I’ll take this first aid kit with me. I’ll return an identical one tomorrow."
Isabella waved her hand. "No need."
Seb had a private doctor, Marvin, and getting another fully equipped first aid kit was a piece of cake.
Quentin smiled. "I insist. I don’t like owing people favors."
In the deep night, Isabella and Quentin stood facing each other.
Then Quentin wrapped the cat in his jacket and held it in his arms. With the other hand, he picked up the first aid kit and nodded slowly at Isabella. "Until I find its owner, it’ll have to crash with me for a few days."
