**ROSEANA**
"You're bleeding!" yelled Damon. The shock reaction reflected in his generally controlled façade. Damon came swiftly and immediately checked to see whether I had wounded myself with the shattered glasses.
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to break the glass," I apologized. I rose from my seat and squatted to pick up the broken glasses on the floor. The milk was also scattered across the floor. I took the shattered glasses and placed them in my hand.
Damon pulled me upright, and I immediately stopped what I was doing. He took my hand, the one holding the broken glass, and carefully removed it. He threw it in the garbage can, and I'm not sure when or where he took it. Then he gently drew me to the sink and cleaned and dried my hands, which had been holding the broken glass. He grasped my hand so lightly that the towel barely touched my skin.
I just stood there, staring at him. I looked like a robot that did everything he asked of me. I appeared to be off my game, and Damon was the one pushing me to move.
His expression was grim. I kept my gaze fixed on my hand as he carefully dried it with a towel. I also observe him taking a look at my feet and then clenching his jaw. I lost count of how many times he sighed, as if it was his way of venting.
He looked me in the eyes as he cleansed my hand. "What?" I inquired. The look he was giving me was giving me goosebumps, piercing right to my soul. I tried to read his mind, but his face was expressionless. I felt like I was staring at a blank canvas with nothing to see.
Our stare was brief since he had left me in the kitchen. I inhaled deeply. Under his scrutinizing gaze, I feel as if I can't breathe.
"Where is he going?" I asked myself. Damon abruptly became cold. A while back, his mood was light, and he was even making jokes and annoying me, but after the incident, he appeared to become more serious.
Is he upset with me because I broke his glass? I didn't intend to break the glass. It slipped from my grasp.
My head shook. I should have been more cautious. This is not my house. I am nothing but a stranger whom he helped and offered a home to stay in. I'm not paying anything to live at his house, and I even broke the glass.
Should I apologize? I shudder at the prospect. It's inconvenient to apologize simply because I smashed his glass. It just goes to show how stupid I am. I'm not sure what to say to him, given his grim expression.
I stared at the door through which he exited. Should I go with him? What if he leaves again and doesn't return for a week?
I exited the dining room quickly. "Damon?!" I searched around the living room for him, but he wasn't there. Is he gone again? When I didn't see him in the living room, I went straight to the front door. If he did leave, he couldn't have gone very far.
I have no idea why I'm doing this. The idea of not seeing him for another week makes me sad and anxious. "Oh my god!" I cried when I felt a pair of hands carrying me. I was so distracted by the thought of him seeing me again that I didn't notice he was already standing behind me. My eyes almost bulged with surprise, and my heart skipped a beat with fear.
I instinctively placed my hands around his neck, scared I'd fall if I didn't. "Damon?!" I exclaimed, surprised.
Damon didn't even bother looking at me. As he carried me in his arms, he simply stared ahead. His expression remained unchanged.
"Where were you? I've been calling you for a while," I inquired. "I thought you'd left again," I explained.
After hearing what I said, his brow furrowed. He gave me a brief look.
"I was getting the medicine kit inside my room when you called, and I didn't hear you," he replied flatly. The coldness of his voice made me almost shudder. He always impresses me with how quickly he can alter his mood. He might be playful and all smiles one moment and then be the coldest person you've ever met the next.
True to his word, there is a medicine kit on the living room table. On the floor, there is also a basin with warm water. Damon gently placed me on the sofa. He knelt on one knee and lovingly touched my wounded foot from the broken glass.
I couldn't help but say, "It's bleeding." I just sat there staring at my bloodied foot. I'm not scared. Because I cannot feel the pain of my wound. I can hardly feel the sting of it. I also realized there was a piece of glass stuck to my skin, which was causing my wound to bleed.
Damon used warm water to wash my feet. I'm not sure how he did it so quickly—getting the medicine kit and putting warm water into the basin.
"How can you be so calm while watching your foot bleed?" he said after a few minutes. While he was cleaning my wound, he was undoubtedly wondering why I didn't respond at all. He didn't hear any groaning from me.
"Nothing can be changed if I make a big deal out of the pain of my wound. Besides, there's nothing I can do about it. The glass has already pricked my skin. The only thing I can do is wait for it to heal," I said. Damon said nothing. He just looked at me and continued what he was doing. I watched him bandage my foot.
Damon instantly hid the ones he used after finishing treating my foot. I examined the bandage over my wound. To be fair, he did a good job cleaning my wound. He appeared to be used to it.
"What? Am I qualified to be a caregiver already?" he suddenly murmured in my ear, almost catching me off guard.
Because of his abrupt entrance by my side, I was about to punch him, but I stopped myself because my fist would have hit his face.
I sighed and remarked, "You surprised me."
Damon sighed and shrugged. He was about to get up, possibly to grab the thermometer again, when I stopped him.
"I told you I was fine," I said, grasping his arms. "Don't worry, my temperature has dropped," I mumbled. Damon paused for a few seconds before returning to his seat next to mine.
"Come here, let me check again."