Elise's POV
I screamed when someone pulled my leg from under the bed. I had been caught. Two guys in my room; one holding both my arms, the other grabbing my leg—as they dragged me downstairs like I was some ragdoll. I kicked, thrashed, and yelled for help, but they were too strong.
"Dear, I can't have you screaming while I'm on a call," said a calm, condescending voice. I turned my head and saw him: tall, lean, about my age, with a perfectly styled look that screamed trouble in designer shoes.
"You must be the girl," he said.
"What do you want?" I asked, fire blazing in my chest.
"So young, so beautiful... and so fragrant," he muttered, ignoring my question as he crept closer. I recoiled, disgusted. He leaned in. I spat in his face. His smile twitched. "Manners," he hissed, wiping his cheek. "You can misbehave all you want... until you get hurt."
He let out a breathy chuckle, running his fingers down my face. I flinched. "Thanks to you, we better get going. You screamed loud enough for the neighbors to hear." He turned away. "Tie her up."
As they grabbed rope, I knew I had seconds. I bolted. My feet hit the hardwood fast. I sprinted for the door but a hand yanked my hair back so hard I screamed. Big mistake. I grabbed the man's arm and sank my teeth into his flesh.
"AHH, YOU PSYCHO!" he yelled. He let go. I ran again—but another guy snatched me by the arm, tighter this time. It hurt. I kicked his shin. He winced, but didn't let go.
"Okay, that's enough!" the leader snapped, marching toward us. "Knock her out."
"What—?"
CRACK!
My head exploded in pain. Then—darkness.
...
...
...
I woke to the familiar ache of pain—my head throbbed. I was back in my bedroom, warm covers over me. I tried to sit up but the dizziness hit me like a wave.
A hand steadied me. "Elise, you should be resting."
I looked up—Twan.
"Twan?" I asked.
"You need something? Water?" He asked.
"Are the others okay?" I asked, taking the glass he offered.
"Yeah. No need to worry."
"Are you okay?"
He hesitated.
"Twan. What are you hiding?"
"It's nothing—"
"Look at me." I said.
He turned his head slightly away. I gently grabbed his cheek and turned his face toward me. A fresh wound ran along his jaw.
"Does it hurt?" I asked, softly brushing it.
"OW—ow ow—yes, it does!"
"Sorry!" I started to pull away but he grabbed my hand gently, surprising me. He opened his mouth to speak—but the door burst open.
James stood there, smirking. "Uh... you two need a moment?"
I flinched. "Uhm—no. I was just checking on Twan."
"I should be asking you that. Your head okay?"
"I'm fine. You've got a bruise though." I pointed at his cheekbone.
"It's nothing." James replied.
"Let me treat it. Twan, you too." I grabbed my mini medkit and headed downstairs, where I saw Minho sitting on the couch, his leg bandaged, and an older man treating him.
"Elise, you should be in bed," James said as he followed me.
The doctor looked up. "This the girl?"
"Yeah. Elise, meet Dr. Akiyama."
The man squinted. "Now I see why Roy wanted her." I felt a shiver down my spine. "I hope you recover, Minho. I best be off, your father might wonder where I am."
"Thanks," Minho grunted as the doctor left.
Ryan locked the door behind him. "So... you guys skipping school?"
"No," Minho muttered. "Saejima would get suspicious. Besides, there's the game against Sagano."
"What's Sagano?" I asked.
"A school," Travis answered from the stairs. "We're playing against them next week."
"Wait, you're playing?" I blinked.
Travis stopped, looked at me. "Do I not look like someone who can play basketball?"
"No, I didn't mean it like that-" I retorted.
He scoffed and went upstairs.
"Don't mind him," Twan said, reading my face. "He's like that at first, but he's alright."
"Yeah... right." I rolled my eyes and turned back to Ryan, who was eating a banana in the kitchen.
"You want some?"
"I'm good," I replied.
"You sure? That bruise on your head looks brutal."
"I've had worse. Soccer balls hurt more."
He laughed. "Respect."
"Now hold still." I gently applied some ice on his forehead and smeared on some antibiotic cream. We were close—too close. I could feel his breath hitch.
"That should do it."
"Thanks."
After patching Ryan up, I leaned against the counter for a second, exhaling. My head still throbbed, but I couldn't bring myself to rest yet. I glanced around the living room. Twan was sitting on the floor, rifling through the medkit I left. I walked over and kneeled beside him.
"You didn't clean that cut properly," I said softly.
"I told you I'd do it myself," he replied, not looking at me.
"You did a crap job." I replied.
He chuckled under his breath. "Can't argue with that."
I dipped some cotton into the antiseptic and held his chin still. "This'll sting."
He winced but said nothing.
"Why'd you help me?" I asked while cleaning.
Twan blinked. "Because you're our friend. And... no one messes with people under this roof."
I smiled faintly. "Thanks for pulling a ninja move back there."
"Had to do something cool to make up for my small hands."
I laughed.
"Done," I said, placing a small butterfly bandage on his cut.
I stood up and walked to the hallway, where James was sitting on the stairs, pressing a towel against his neck.
"Hey," I said, approaching. "Mind if I take a look?"
James shrugged. "Sure, nurse."
I sat beside him. There was a small gash along his collarbone. I opened the kit again.
"You really shouldn't be walking around," he said, watching me work.
"I've been knocked out twice in one day. That's enough sleep for a year."
"Fair point," he said with a faint smirk.
I applied cream and dressed his cut. "You okay though? I mean... after everything?"
He hesitated. "I will be. You?"
"Same." I replied.
After a beat of silence, James glanced sideways. "We won't let them touch you again, Elise. I promise." Something in his tone felt... steady. Assuring. I nodded. Then I noticed someone missing.
"Where's Minho?" I asked. James motioned with his head. "Living room. Stubborn as always."
And that's how I ended up approaching him next. Limping slightly, I made my way to the couch where he sat—TV on, but eyes distant.
"Hey." I said.
"What do you want?" Minho muttered without looking.
"I'm checking on everyone."
"I'm not everyone."
"You're still bleeding a bit through your bandage."
"Then go tell Dr. Akiyama."
"He's gone."
"Well, go be Florence Nightingale to someone else."
"You're welcome for getting kidnapped, by the way," I shot back.
He finally looked at me, one eyebrow raised. "Is that sarcasm?"
"Kind of." I sat on the edge of the table. "Let me check your leg."
He stared for a beat, then sighed and let me. I peeled back part of the wrap and checked the stitches.
"You should be resting," he muttered, echoing everyone else.
"And yet here I am, taking care of five dumbasses who'd probably bleed out without me."
"Tsk."
I smiled to myself as I taped the wrap back. His gaze lingered on me for a second longer than necessary.
"Actually," I said after a moment, "I have a question."
He cocked his head slightly.
"Is there a chance... you gave a stranger a jacket?"