Chapter 2 BLEEDING SHADOWS!

MIA'S POV:

The night stretched out like an endless abyss as I drove back to my apartment, the darkness pressing in on me, suffocating. I thought leaving home would be my escape, a fresh start, but instead, it felt like life had only gotten harder. I had a degree in English, yet it seemed to mock me from the shadows, a piece of paper that had no power in a world that valued experience over ambition. The only thing I had now was a part-time position as a mall attendant-a far cry from what I'd dreamed of. It was all I had, though, and even in the dissonance of failure, I didn't regret leaving that place.

The place I once called home.

The house, filled with false smiles and tension. The constant barbs from my stepmother, the words that cut deeper than any blade-words that served as a reminder that I was always "less." I wasn't her daughter, her real daughter. It didn't matter how hard I tried. I could never be the daughter she wanted. My real mother... I didn't know her. She died giving birth to me. All I had left was an old photograph, a fading memory of a woman I would never truly know. She was beautiful. So beautiful, I sometimes wondered how I could possibly be her daughter. I didn't have her delicate features, her graceful figure. The one thing I did inherit from her-this curse of existence-was the loss of her.

"She was too weak," my stepmother would always say. "That's why she died after having you."

Her words were a constant sting, a relentless whisper in the back of my mind that never ceased. Even now, the echoes of them followed me, relentless. You're not enough. The sting was sharp tonight, the words digging into my soul like they always did. But there was one thing that kept me going, a fragile thread in the darkness-faith. I clung to it desperately, like a person stranded at sea, grasping at anything that floated by. I didn't know where it would lead, but I clung to the hope that there had to be more-there had to be light beyond the shadows.

But, God, I felt so lost.

The tires hummed on the wet asphalt as I navigated the empty road, the headlights cutting through the dark like a fragile lifeline. The radio played softly, the melodies a distant hum in my ears, but they couldn't mask the noise in my head-the incessant swirl of thoughts, each more painful than the last. The stillness of the night only seemed to amplify my loneliness. The low hum of the engine beneath me was the only sound, a cold reminder that I was alone.

And then, from the void, a figure appeared.

A flash of movement, a silhouette darting in front of my car. My heart stopped, my body instinctively jerking in response, and I slammed on the brakes. Tires screamed against the pavement as I wrenched the wheel, the car jerking to a sudden halt. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes went wide with panic. "Oh my God, did I hit him?"

The stillness was deafening. For a split second, I thought I might have run him over, and I felt the world tilt beneath me. God, what have I done?

Panic clawed at my chest as I threw open the door. My breath was shallow, my pulse hammering in my ears. It could be a trap. People were lured this way-injured, helpless, only to find themselves dragged into something darker. But I had nothing. No money, no valuables. I was just a girl who had just 'hope'. What could anyone possibly want with me?

I moved around the front of the car, my body stiff with fear, my steps hesitant. And then I saw him.

He stood a few feet away, swaying slightly on unsteady legs. His white shirt was soaked in blood, dark red staining the fabric. Blood seeped from a wound on his arm, dripping in slow, steady drops that darkened the pavement beneath him. His face was pale, and there was a shadow of pain in his eyes-eyes that locked onto mine with such intensity. It felt like they were searing into my soul.

For a moment, I froze. The world seemed to hold its breath.

His body swayed again, and I saw his knees buckle slightly. He wasn't going to last much longer. Without thinking, my legs moved toward him, my voice escaping in a soft whisper. "Are you alright?"

He didn't answer, but his eyes didn't leave mine. There was something in the way he looked at me, something that pulled at me like an invisible force. And then, in one swift movement, he reached out, grabbing my wrist with a strength that startled me. His grip was firm, demanding, and I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through my body.

"Take me to your home," he rasped, the words a command, not a request. His voice was rough, and I could hear the strain in it.

I blinked, startled by the suddenness of it. "What?" I managed to say, my mind trying to catch up. My heart was pounding in my chest, my breath coming faster now. He was injured-bleeding-and here he was, giving me orders.

But something about his presence, the way he stood, despite the pain and the blood, made me hesitate to argue. There was an undeniable force about him, a strength that was more than just physical. He seemed like the kind of man who didn't accept no for an answer.

I helped him into the car, my hands trembling slightly as I moved him into the passenger seat. His body shifted painfully as he tried to find a comfortable position, and I could see his jaw clenching with the effort to stay calm.

I slammed the door and got in the driver's seat. The engine roared to life, the sound of it loud in the stillness of the night. I glanced at him briefly, trying to make sense of this situation. His shirt was drenched in blood. the colour so stark against his pale skin. The air in the car felt thick, heavy with something I couldn't name.

"No," I said, my voice strained. "I'm taking you to the hospital. That wound looks bad. You need proper care."

He groaned, shifting in the seat. "Take me to your house. I don't like repeating myself."

My patience snapped. "Excuse me?" I adjusted my glasses. I couldn't hide the bite in my tone . "You're the one who got hurt, and I'm the one doing you a favour. I could have just left you there to die, but I didn't. So you'd better watch how you talk to me."

His eyes flashed with irritation, and he winced as he adjusted himself again. "You'll need a statement from the police before I can get treated. And if you wait for that, I'll be dead before you know it."

I bit my lip, my thoughts racing. What kind of person is he?

"And who said I'm qualified to take care of you at my place?" I snapped back. "I'm not a nurse, I'm just trying to survive myself."

He let out a low grunt, dismissing my concern as though it didn't matter. "If you've got salt and water, that'll do for now. You don't need to be a nurse to clean a wound."

I stared at him in disbelief. Who does this man think he is?

I muttered under my breath, my frustration reaching its peak. "Fine. Whatever. But if you're some kind of criminal on the run, I'm not going down for you."

He exhaled, a deep sigh that seemed to carry more weight than his words. "I was attacked. On the same road you were coming from. They took my car, beat me down, left me for dead."

I blinked, my mind reeling. Attacked? The words hit me hard, my heart sinking in my chest.

"So you want me to take you to my house, patch you up?" I asked, still unsure of what was happening.

He nodded, though his face twisted with pain. "Exactly. Just a little home treatment, and tomorrow, we deal with the rest."

I frowned, my mind working through the details. "With a wound like that, how can you be so sure you'll make it until tomorrow?"

His lips twitched into a small smirk, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Trust me. I'm not dying tonight."

There was something in the way he said it-so certain, so sure-that for a moment, I almost believed him. There was a strength in him, a quiet assurance that nothing could break him. And yet, here he was, struggling to stay upright, blood staining his clothes.

I glanced at him again, only to catch the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. "If you keep looking at me like that, we're going to have an accident," he murmured, his voice rough, teasing.

I quickly turned my eyes back to the road, my heart racing for an entirely different reason. "I wasn't staring," I muttered, flustered.

The faint smile lingered on his lips, but he didn't respond. The silence between us was thick, but somehow, it wasn't uncomfortable.