Hell raining down on us wouldn’t stop until either side was dead.
“Argh. Fuck, Bonnie. Come on,” Israel hissed.
I glared at him. “Hold. Still.”
“It hurts.”
“Of course, it hurts. It’s stitches. Now, stop moving.”
I pierced his skin with the sterilized needle and he jumped again, forcing me to start over. I chewed on the inside of my cheek and let out a hefty sigh, trying my best not to get frustrated with him. I mean, he had saved my life and all, and I wanted to respect him for that. But, this was getting a bit ridiculous. Even I tolerated pain better than he did, it seemed.
“Damn it,” he grumbled.
“Seriously, Israel, do I need to call the doctor again? He’ll have a numbing solution for you, I’m sure. And I’ll douse you in it if it’ll keep you fucking still.”
He scoffed “I don’t want anyone in this house right now except you and me. Which by the way, we need to talk, so tuck in that attitude of yours.”
I stuck his back again. “Yeah, I’m sure we do.”
He ripped away from me. “Ah!”
I reached for him. “Damn it, Israel. Suck it up for a second and—”
He peered over his shoulder at me. “Now, you’re doing it on purpose.”
“Well, if you would stop moving, it wouldn't hurt as much.”
“And if you want to survive this, I suggest you stop hurting me intentionally. Might give me the wrong idea.”
I snickered. “It’s your fault if you think I’m not on your side in all of this. I’ve abandoned the only family I’ve ever known because they’re trying to kill me right now.”
“Doesn’t mean you won’t try to kill me once they stop.”
I stood up. “Yep. I’m calling you a doctor.”
He sighed. “Wait.”
I paused, still holding the needle in my hand. “What?”
He grunted as he shifted. “I’ll hold still. Just—just listen to me while you work. All right?”
I peeked over my shoulder. “You’ll hold very still?”
“As still as a weed in the dead of night.”
I blinked. “Fine.”
I made my way back to his side and knelt back down. With the needle firmly in my hands and his knees firmly planted into the hardwood flooring, he gripped the edges of the couch while I sewed the small puncture wound in his back. He was good at not moving, though his sweating had me a bit on edge.
“Are you sure you don’t need—”
“Just. Finish,” he growled.
After tying off the last stitch, I surveyed my work. Not a bad job for only having done it four other times in my life. But I still wanted him to see a doctor in a few days if the stitches gave him trouble. I wiped across my work of art with an alcohol swab, and he hissed in pain. Just as he promised, though, he didn’t move.
So, I reached for the massive band-aid. “All right. I’m going to cover the stitches. I’ll need to go out and get—”
“I’ll get what we need so I can shower and stuff. Just finish what you’re doing so we can talk.”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
And after smoothing the band-aid over his skin, the two of us sat on the couch.
“Bonnie, I want you to survive this. That’s what I need you to know,” he said.
I nodded. “I know.”
“But someone just came into our home and cornered you in the kitchen. And you were unable to defend yourself.”
“If I had a gun or something—”
He snickered. “I’m not giving you anything like that.”
“Why? Because you’re scared I’ll kill you in the middle of the night?”
His eyes met mine. “For starters? Yes.”
“Some marriage we’ve got, huh?”
He grinned, but I didn’t follow suit. Mostly, because I didn’t think it was funny. I didn’t want our marriage to be like this. I didn’t want things to be this way. I wanted us to love one another and respect one another and fight on the same team. Not fight against each other. But, apparently, Israel thought this was cute.
And I wanted to punch him in the throat for it.
His grin fell away from his face. “Anyway, I want you to survive this. But I also want to make sure you’re not going to turn on me. I can assume you’re intelligent enough to understand why I would feel this way.”
I nodded curtly. “Yep.”
“I want you to check in with me every hour on the hour.”
I blinked, not sure I heard him right. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I need to know when you're okay and when you're not. Today we got lucky. Had I come in even moments later, I would’ve found your dead body. We need something at close intervals to trigger when I should come home, and when I’m okay to stay out. This is the only way we’re going to achieve this.”
Is he kidding right now? “A text can be easily faked.”
“Which is why you’re going to call.”
If he really thought I’d do this, he was as crazy as I assumed. “Let me get this straight. You want me blowing up your phone every hour on the hour when you’re not around, which is always, by the way. You’re gone before I get up and not back until after I go to sleep. Am I supposed to run on your hours now?”
“Bonnie, that isn’t—”
“Am I supposed to set my alarm clock for every hour in the middle of the night?”
“You’re taking this a bit too—”
I shrugged. “This was your idea. Are you going to come barging in at seven in the morning because I didn’t get up to call you?”
He stood to his feet quickly. “Enough!”
I jumped at the intensity of his voice and knew better than to say anything. So, I waited for him to continue.
“Enough.”
I sighed. “This isn’t feasible.”
He bent forward, gripping my chin with his fingers. “Are you listening?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Good. You’re going to get up at nine—every morning. And from nine in the morning until ten o’clock at night, you’ll check in with me. Every hour on
