Chapter 3
Williams looks down at the girl sprawled at her feet, head cushioned against the toe of her boot.
“Fucks sake.” She mutters under her breath, removing her jacket and bunching it up beneath the girl's head.
When she had first heard the shouting, she knew they were here for her, regardless of what the shop girl had said. Her gun was in her hand and she was moving before she could fully register the sharp pain blooming in her side as her wound bled anew. As backwards as it always seemed, it always felt better with the bullet in .
Williams rolled her shoulders, ignoring the pain, and pushed through the door to face her third bloodbath of the night.
Third time’s most definitely not a fucking charm. She thought bitterly, cocking her gun and strategically placing herself between the incoming men and the door behind her. It didn't matter who they were, or how they had tracked her: they wanted her dead–for revenge for her killing their friends, or orders from their bosses, none of it mattered. She simply took care of business as she always had, and with each carefully placed bullet between the eyes, Williams only felt an easing in the tightness of her shoulders. She kept her left hand pressed against her abdomen, now bleeding freely, and without the fabric of her shirt and hoodie, it was spilling down to leave trails of red on her trouser leg.
What a bother.
The shop girl had seemed to do fairly well with removing the bullet, but Williams distantly wondered how she would react to all of this, wondering if she was crouched under the table, or if she had already done the sensible thing and fled. She hoped it wasn't the latter. She still needed stitches.
Dealing with her latest batch of assailants so she could go back to the breakroom, get her stitches, and if she hadn’t lost too much blood, steal a kiss or two and then head home–that had been the objective. Williams couldn't deny that the girl was fit, even if she seemed a bit too easily frazzled, and a kiss from a fit girl was possibly the one thing that could make the botched job and subsequent shitshow of a night slightly better.
She had been congratulating herself on achieving the first part of her objective: all the men now lay either dead or dying sprawled around the front of the store. She allowed herself a moment to breathe, finally admitting to herself that she was tired and in pain and probably a bit more light headed then she ought to be.
When she heard the scream, high pitched and distinctly feminine, Williams’ first thought was that she would have one extra body to clean up. That she wouldn't get her kiss, and she’d have to do the stitches herself. She hadn’t felt much besides some annoyance and disappointment.
It wasn't until she saw one of the men–dying but not quite yet dead–reaching for his gun and barreling towards the door she had been guarding that she felt the first spike of–not quite fear, she didn't feel too much of that anymore–but something.
Up, ignoring the twinge of pain in her side and the swimming feeling in her head, Williams pushed to her feet, surging towards the doorway where the man already stood, weapon raised and pointed at the shop girl. A split second to see the pale and terrified face staring back at them, and then she had pulled the trigger, neatly stepping aside to avoid the ensuing spray of blood.
The girl, unfortunately, hadn’t had the same foresight, and when the shower of crimson sprayed across her face, Williams knew with certainty she was going to pass out. A sigh, and then she was across the room, sticking out her foot just in time before the girl's head cracked against the floor.
Now, surrounded by bodies, dead and unconscious, Williams took one look at the neat little tray of supplies the girl had left out on the table and decided that she would be selfish tonight. She had saved the girl's life after all, even if it was her fault that it was endangered in the first place.
Williams knew it made more sense to stitch herself and go, leaving the girl with troubling memories and a mess, but to her, the monotony of bloody cleanup was easier than the painstaking focus required to stitch skin back together. And besides, she felt like at the very least she should apologize to her. Witnessing a man get his head blown off–and being showered in his blood, no less–would probably be troubling enough for the average upstanding citizen, much less one already fearful of blood.
So, she would stay. She would clean up the blood, and in exchange, she’d make the girl uphold her end of the bargain. It was a shitty deal, and she knew it, but she was too tired to care.
Williams made her way to the sink and washed her hands before grabbing a handful of gauze and packing it into the wound, messily secured with a bit of tape from a roll on the tray. A temporary fix, so that she wouldn't bleed out in the meantime.
That done, she set about to tidying the room. Messiness had always bothered her, and there were few things messier than a crime scene. First, she dragged the man's body through the doorway, depositing him with the other corpses now cooling in between aisles of chips and sodas.
She would call Helen later to deal with the bodies later. This mess had been her fault anyways.
Next, she went back to the break room, mopping up the puddle and consequent smear of blood the man had left on the linoleum floor. It probably wasn't sterile, but she was confident it was clean enough that the girl wouldn't faint again. Then Williams rinsed her hands once more, took a stack of paper towels, and crouched down beside the girl. After a few failed attempts at trying to wipe at her bloody fingers, Williams gave up and simply hoisted the girl up in her arms, carrying her to the counter to rinse her hands in the sink. Her body laid out on the counter, hand raised over her head and dangling in the stainless steel sink, Williams felt a stab of guilt for the first time.
She could tell immediately how frightened the girl had been, of her, of the blood, but she had been determined to help. It was as unfamiliar an experience to Williams as her life probably was to most others. People in her life didn't help–not unless it benefited them. Oh, she’d grown close enough to Sam and Helen she supposed, but she wouldn't put it past either of them to stick a knife in her back if it served their purpose.
Every man for themselves. Stay cold, stay alive.
She wouldn't begrudge them for doing the same. Still, she could never fully trust that they were all on the same side. Even herself, Williams knew she was only helping this girl so that she could finish her stitches, saving her the trouble of fumbling through it on her own.
Then there was Elanor. The past few weeks had been as awkward as they had been relieving; having someone to watch her back, learning to trust each other as partners. Elanor was probably the one person she trusted most in the world right now, both of them knowing that there was a mutual benefit in keeping each other alive.
Still, this? A stranger offering to help her, no strings attached? Williams would be lying to herself if she said she hadnt accepted the offer just to prove that the girl had ulterior motives, that there was no such thing as selfless kindness in a world like this, especially for a person like her. The girl had said she wanted to practice, and Williams had kept waiting for some sick finale to the joke. But it never came.
As she watched the girl fighting her panic, hands gentler than she would have been on herself as she extracted the bullet, Williams felt an unfamiliar flicker of uncertainty. Where was the catch? When would this girl try to hurt her, coerce her into getting whatever it was she really wanted? Probably money, Williams had decided. But no ultimatum ever came, and it left Williams almost glad for the gun fight. That was something she understood, something she was good at. There was a clear exchange, they wanted to kill her, so she would take their lives because of it. A clear winner, and even clearer losers.
Who would win in a situation like this? Williams couldn't understand it. And yet, she wouldn't let herself leave quite yet. She supposed some cynical part of herself was waiting for the confirmation that the world was a shitty place, filled with shitty people. Williams didn't know what it meant that a part of her didn't want this girl to be one of them.
Now, as she tried her best to rinse away her blood from the girl's fingers, Williams wondered if she had finally lost it.
After a second thought, and more to distract herself from the confusing thoughts she was thinking, Williams dunked the girl's head under the faucet as well, intending to rinse off the blood coating her face, belatedly realizing that it probably wasn't the best idea. The girl came awake with a gasp, kicking and flailing from where Williams had pinned her against the counter, her body thrashing in an effort to get away.
“Easy there.” She said, allowing the girl to turn and see her face. “It’s just me.”
“That’s not reassuring!” The girl shouted, panic still clear in her eyes, but despite her words, her body had slightly relaxed, sliding off the counter as she faced the sink. Williams was directly behind her, and found she was quite content staying there, reaching around the girl's body to shut off the faucet. After a moment, as if suddenly becoming aware of their position she threw an accusatory look over her shoulder at Williams. “Were you trying to fucking waterboard me?!”
“I’ve only done that once, and it’s more of a bucket thing, to be honest with you.”
The girl simply stared at her, as if waiting for the ‘kidding’ that wasn't going to come. Instead, Williams changed the topic.
“I need you to finish the stitches so I can get out of here and you can forget about all of this. I was trying to clean off your face so that you wouldn't faint on me again.”
At her words, the girl touched a hand to her cheek, mouth dropping open in horror as it came away red. Williams could see the exact moment that the previous events came rushing back to her, panic threatening to take her out a second time.
She tried to be patient, knowing that the situation was probably traumatic for the girl, but couldn't find too much to spare. Bloodshed and killing had been a normal part of her life for as long as she could remember, and accommodating to someone else's fear of something that was so mundane to her was proving to be more challenging than she expected.
She grabbed the girls shoulders, leaning down to look her in the eye. “Hey! Get a fucking hold of yourself! You're going to make yourself faint again and I need you to finish what you started.”
That seemed to wake her up a bit, and she pushed Williams’ arms away, sitting up on the counter. “No, you know what? You need to leave. My boss…” Her eyes unfocused. “Oh god, did you break anything? He’s going to kill me…”
“Nothings broken, and I have someone coming to clean up the bodies.” Williams replied impatiently.
“Bodies?” The clerk squeaked out. “There’s more than one?”
“They’ll be gone by the time we finish here, so don't worry. Now, can I count on you to do this or not?”
The girl glanced at her, eyes widening in fear as she backed away. “Are you going to kill me after? Or if I say no?”
Williams rubbed a hand over her tired eyes. It had been too long of a day already, and now the one person she needed to help her was afraid of her-well, more afraid of her. It almost would have been easier to kill her and fumble through the stitches on her own. But she couldn't pass up the chance to have someone skilled in medical practices do it. And besides, Eleanor would probably yell at her for killing such a fit girl.
She sighed resigned. “No, like I already told you, I'm not going to kill you. You can even hold on to my gun if it makes you feel any better.” She held the weapon out, grip facing up as she offered it to the girl, who recollided as if Williams had offered her a snake.
“I don't want that! Throw it to the other side of the room!”
“Can't do that I’m afraid.” Williams replied, setting it next to her on the table and hopping back up. “Look, I'll pay you for the trouble. Ill double whatever your boss pays you for the over night shift.”
The clerk raised a brow. “And you'll double that amount.”
Figures. I knew she wanted money.
Of course nobody would help her for free. She felt relieved knowing the girl's motives now.
Williams pressed her lips together but finally shrugged. “Fine.” This job was supposed to pay well and she supposed she could afford to compensate the girl for what she had put her through. After all, Williams had led those men right to her doorstep.
The girl seemed to consider it for a moment longer before closing her eyes and nodding.
“Just…just let me stop shaking first. You don't want me to stick you with the needle.”
Williams appraised her for a moment, the way her breath kept stuttering, the way she kept her hands clenched to her chest, tremors wracking her body as she sat huddled on the counter.
“Seems like a whole lot of fuss.” Williams noted.
The girl glared at her. “Well it's not like I have a choice. Not all of us are unfeeling psychos.”
Williams ignored the barb. She’d heard plenty worse. “Course ya do.”
The glare intensified. “Well if I could magically choose to not be afraid of blood, I wouldn't have to be here, I'd be fulfilling my dream, helping people in need everyday, saving lives.”
She glances at the floor, where the man's body had lain.
Instead of taking them, she seems to leave unsaid.
“If it's something you want that badly–”
“Just don't be anxious?” She finishes for Williams' with a scowl. “Yeah thanks, I’ve heard that one before. Somehow it's just as unhelpful as the first time.”
“Just don't be afraid.” The girl opens her mouth as if to argue, but Williams raises her hands placatingly before continuing. “If I’m afraid in a situation, and I don't die by the end of it, then there was no point in being afraid in the first place. After a couple times, it starts to take effect. I haven't felt afraid in years."
“That's terrible advice.” She says, staring at her.
Williams shrugs. “I'm not the one who's shaking like a wet dog right now.”
The shop girl glares at her but Williams’ just raises a brow, smirking at her.
The girl closes her eyes, and her shaking subsides. For a few seconds at least. When her body is again wracked by involuntary shivers, she gasps, a choked sob tearing out of her throat. “I cant-”
Williams rolls her eyes, hopping off the table and moving to stand in front of the girl and grabbing her upper arms “If you say you can’t then you definitely won't.” She says, giving the girl an annoyed shake.
This is taking too long.
“N-not helping!!” The girl bites out, but the effect is somewhat ruined by the way her body curls in on itself with her next gasp.
“Then what will!” Williams asks, exasperated. At this rate, she might as well have taken her chances on her own.
At her words, the girl's eyes cut up to Williams’ and in them is a warring look of shame and desperation. “I've always wanted someone to ask that.” She says with deep wariness before she lets her head fall forward onto the taller girl's chest.