Told you not to provoke me.

I did it again, didn't I? Apart from losing control of my thirst again, I snapped at Gabby. Again. The comforting weight of the hunting knife strapped to my skin again makes me a little calmer, though. And I guess that might be a little worrying, too. Do I only feel safe with that defence anymore?

I look down at the mess I made of the guy, his face painted in his blood, his taut expression of concealed pain as he pushes himself up against the side of the bus, holding his cut wrist above his heart, his fingers clamped around the wound to try and staunch the flow. I swear under my breath.

Ugh. It sucks to be me. I get back on the bus and Beth shouts at me.

‘No way, Alex. You can't leave my passenger out there bleeding to death!' she yells, ‘And after that, I don't think it's a good idea to come back, either.' I smile a little as I reach for my bag on the floor, picking it up. I turn back to the door where Beth is looking at the guy on the floor with concern.

‘It's fine; I have a first aid certificate somewhere at home.' I tell her, pushing past her, jumping out of the bus to tend to the guy. ‘Sorry,' I tell him as I pull a bandage out of my bag. He swears at me and flinches as I near him, but we both know he's too weak to do anything about me grabbing his wrist and putting a pad of medical wool over the gash, pressing it in tightly, holding my breath.

‘I hate to say it, but I did tell you not to provoke me.' I say as I calmly wind the bandage around his wrist and the pad. He doesn't reply, simply glaring quietly at me. ‘Oh yeah, don't be surprised if you develop a craving for rare steak.' I tell him humourlessly, fastening the bandage off. ‘I don't know how much venom went in.' Konrad's gonna kill me. I rise, picking up my bag in one fluid motion.

I begin to look for his knives where I dropped them. It won't win him over as a friend, or even a pleasant acquaintance, but I already felt bad enough for what I've done; I can't say I want to lose him his oh-so-precious knives. I pick them up, one blood stained and slick, the other muddy and stuck with bits of grass.

Not bothering to clean them off, I shove them in his hand. He looks a bit like he's fallen asleep. Guess he lost enough blood to make him pass out. I roll my eyes and put my hands under his arms, pulling him up. The knives fall to the floor again and I swear, irritated. I drag him back into his seat and retrieve his blades again, then leave him there. He'll be fine. You only start to die if you've got 20% of your blood left. Or was it 40%? Either way he'll be okay, since you only pass out at 60% left, so he would have a ways to go before it was dangerous. I think.

Gabby is in our old seats. With a small sigh, I walk over to her and sit beside her.

‘I didn't mean to snap like that,' I mutter quietly. ‘Sorry.'

The End

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