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Hello, this is my first fan fiction, written in English, so please BE patient!
All the characters (except for one or two) don’t belong to me, I just use them! Not for money, not for fame, just for fun!
For German readers, I will write this story in German too, but later!
Ha, Britta, you wanted me to write it in English, so here you have … J
Remains Of Life
By Dara
It was dark. He didn’t know, how long he had been going through this forests. It seemed to be an eternity. It was May, still cold. But it could be, that his cold came from inside. He realized, that he couldn’t go on any longer; he had lost too much blood, too much power. His breath was deep and his heart raced. He fell on the fresh and wet grass. He was tired and he knew, if he didn’t find anyone soon, he would die. His consciousness started to fade away.
***
The wind blew strongly against the partly opened window and a leaflet sank down to the floor. It was already night and the crickets were chirping aloud. Rika sighed silently. Somebody out there needed her help, she could feel it. Her hands trembled slightly, while she washed them carefully under the running water. She didn’t like visitors, she didn’t like company. She loved to be alone in this seclusion. As long as she could remember she’d been living here. She had always been alone after her parents had died. She sighed again and took a deep breath. But out there was someone and he needed help. She straightened herself, took her coat and went outside.
At first she couldn’t see anything. But she was sure, that he was there. She concentrated and closed her eyes for one little moment. Then she turned left und went into the woods. She felt his dreams as she felt them every time. She could hear him before she saw him. He lay in the moss, his clothes were damp and torn. His breath was barely audible and he was unconscious. She got down to her knees and touched his forehead. It was hot and his sweat was mixed with blood. Rika tried to get him on her shoulders, but he was bigger than her. He had to wake up, he had to help her.
“Hello? Can you hear me? Wake up! You’ve got to move! My house is just a few meters away.” She shook him slightly. “Do you understand me? Wake up, we’ve got to move!”
He pushed himself to open his eyes. Why did she shout so loud? Why couldn’t she leave him alone? By the way, who was this woman? He tried to focus, it was dark but he could see the shape of the woman holding him. It was hard to understand, but then he remembered. He needed help. “Help me!” he croaked.
“I will, I promise, but first we’ve got to go! Come on, get up, I can’t carry you alone!” She pushed him up. Finally he put his arm around her neck and together they stumbled to the cabin.
“Just up the stairs and then you can sleep!” she gasped. With their last bit of strength both went upstairs. Rika pushed a door open, a bed was in the middle of the room. She put him down carefully. “I will undress you and clean the wounds. Tomorrow I will call the doctor and the police!” she whispered.
“No police, no doctor. I just need to sleep!” He grasped her arm rather violently. She moaned about the sudden pain she felt. “Please, no police!” He let her go.
She saw right into his eyes. She felt his pain and his fears and she saw the plea in his eyes. She sighed and gave him a little smile: “Okay, no police, no doctor! Well, not for the moment! We’ll see, how you feel in the next days! Can you undress yourself, I will bring some water and towels. Maybe there are some of my father’s clothes left, that will fit you.”
He breathed out deeply and laid himself back. She turned to the door and wanted to go away, when she hesitated. She turned back to him and said: “Oh, by the way, my name is Rika, you’re in my cabin.”
“I’m Kyle, Kyle Russel. Thank you, Rika!” He smiled back to her. She nodded and left. Kyle sat up and started to pull off his Sweater and his jeans.
After ten minutes Rika returned. In her arm she had an old pyjama and some towels. In the other hand she had a pitcher with warm water. When she entered the room, her visitor was sleeping. Silently she sat beside the bed and started to clean his wounds. He had been shot in the leg, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore. She tried to remove the dirt without reopening the wound. Then she washed his body. There were lots of splinters. She stood up and got tweezers, then she carefully removed the splinters. She concentrated on her work and didn’t realize that he watched her.
***
He woke up when she started to clean him. His sight got better again and finally he could recognize his surroundings. He looked around. It was a nice and warm little room with quite a low ceiling. The furniture was old; on one side of the room there were a wardrobe and a cabinet, in front of the bed was a small chest of drawers. In the corner was a second door. >Must be the bathroom,< he thought. On the other wall there was a window with white-blue-checkered curtains and under it there was an antique writing desk. It didn’t look like the woman used this room, so there must be another bedroom. Kyle looked at the woman cleaning him.
He was stunned. It seemed he was dreaming. Mother. The same long, red curls like her. He could smell the shampoo she used. But it wasn’t her, this was Rika. She had told him her name. Her hands were warm and gentle, her skin had the colour of bronze. He knew that most red haired people were pale and burned their skin by the sun very easily, but she seemed to be used to sun. When she noticed his glance she turned her head to him. A red curl had fallen into her face. She looked at him: “I didn’t want to wake you up. I hope it doesn’t hurt too much?” She had green eyes, dark green eyes. She was beautiful, with full lips and long eyelashes, she was tanned and he could see some freckles on her little snub nose.
He grinned weakly: “No, it doesn’t. Thank you!” Her smile widened.
“You don’t have to thank me that much. I had to help you.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“So you live with your parents here?” Did he really try to start a conversation? He couldn’t believe it himself.
“Yes, I did. They died a few years ago. I like it here, it is wonderful, peaceful.” She wetted the flannel and started to wash off the blood. While she did so, he stared at her. She nearly looked like his mother, maybe because of the hair, maybe because of her skirt. He knew the picture of his mother, Jarod had shown him. - Jarod, he had to find his brother.-
“You need rest! I will apply an ointment I made. It will ease the pain of the burnings. I don’t think that the bullet is still in your body. I can see the wounds on either side of your leg. I hope it doesn’t become inflamed.” Her voice was deep, calm and quiet, he had to listen carefully, though she spoke very clearly. He cleared his throat and said: “I don’t think so, I always recover very well.”
She smiled: “Seems like you are used to aches and cuts and other injuries?”
“You can say so.” His face darkened.
Rika felt the change in his mood. She saw some pictures of a bald man with an oxygen tank beside him. She felt the violence coming from this man. She stood up and gave Kyle the pyjama. “It’s old, but warm. Should fit you!” Her eyes fell on his body. He was very masculine and strong. His muscular chest moved with his breath. She could see a tattoo. >Prisoner, he was a prisoner, be careful, Rika< She didn’t listen to the voice in her head, instead she left the room and went downstairs. She knew: for now she could trust him, he wouldn’t hurt her, not yet…
***
Two days after:
It was about 9 a.m. when he woke up again. He felt better and tried to get up. But he couldn’t. When he tried to get on his feet, he felt the sharp pain in his wounded leg weakening him. Slowly he sank back on the pillow. He couldn’t afford to faint. He examined himself: he had a fever but the wound seemed to have healed properly. He closed his eyes and moaned. At this very moment, his elderly brother was with their mother, a family reunion but without him. The pain he felt was not the pain of his injuries, it was emotional.
All the characters (except for one or two) don’t belong to me, I just use them! Not for money, not for fame, just for fun!
For German readers, I will write this story in German too, but later!
Ha, Britta, you wanted me to write it in English, so here you have … J
Remains Of Life
By Dara
It was dark. He didn’t know, how long he had been going through this forests. It seemed to be an eternity. It was May, still cold. But it could be, that his cold came from inside. He realized, that he couldn’t go on any longer; he had lost too much blood, too much power. His breath was deep and his heart raced. He fell on the fresh and wet grass. He was tired and he knew, if he didn’t find anyone soon, he would die. His consciousness started to fade away.
***
The wind blew strongly against the partly opened window and a leaflet sank down to the floor. It was already night and the crickets were chirping aloud. Rika sighed silently. Somebody out there needed her help, she could feel it. Her hands trembled slightly, while she washed them carefully under the running water. She didn’t like visitors, she didn’t like company. She loved to be alone in this seclusion. As long as she could remember she’d been living here. She had always been alone after her parents had died. She sighed again and took a deep breath. But out there was someone and he needed help. She straightened herself, took her coat and went outside.
At first she couldn’t see anything. But she was sure, that he was there. She concentrated and closed her eyes for one little moment. Then she turned left und went into the woods. She felt his dreams as she felt them every time. She could hear him before she saw him. He lay in the moss, his clothes were damp and torn. His breath was barely audible and he was unconscious. She got down to her knees and touched his forehead. It was hot and his sweat was mixed with blood. Rika tried to get him on her shoulders, but he was bigger than her. He had to wake up, he had to help her.
“Hello? Can you hear me? Wake up! You’ve got to move! My house is just a few meters away.” She shook him slightly. “Do you understand me? Wake up, we’ve got to move!”
He pushed himself to open his eyes. Why did she shout so loud? Why couldn’t she leave him alone? By the way, who was this woman? He tried to focus, it was dark but he could see the shape of the woman holding him. It was hard to understand, but then he remembered. He needed help. “Help me!” he croaked.
“I will, I promise, but first we’ve got to go! Come on, get up, I can’t carry you alone!” She pushed him up. Finally he put his arm around her neck and together they stumbled to the cabin.
“Just up the stairs and then you can sleep!” she gasped. With their last bit of strength both went upstairs. Rika pushed a door open, a bed was in the middle of the room. She put him down carefully. “I will undress you and clean the wounds. Tomorrow I will call the doctor and the police!” she whispered.
“No police, no doctor. I just need to sleep!” He grasped her arm rather violently. She moaned about the sudden pain she felt. “Please, no police!” He let her go.
She saw right into his eyes. She felt his pain and his fears and she saw the plea in his eyes. She sighed and gave him a little smile: “Okay, no police, no doctor! Well, not for the moment! We’ll see, how you feel in the next days! Can you undress yourself, I will bring some water and towels. Maybe there are some of my father’s clothes left, that will fit you.”
He breathed out deeply and laid himself back. She turned to the door and wanted to go away, when she hesitated. She turned back to him and said: “Oh, by the way, my name is Rika, you’re in my cabin.”
“I’m Kyle, Kyle Russel. Thank you, Rika!” He smiled back to her. She nodded and left. Kyle sat up and started to pull off his Sweater and his jeans.
After ten minutes Rika returned. In her arm she had an old pyjama and some towels. In the other hand she had a pitcher with warm water. When she entered the room, her visitor was sleeping. Silently she sat beside the bed and started to clean his wounds. He had been shot in the leg, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore. She tried to remove the dirt without reopening the wound. Then she washed his body. There were lots of splinters. She stood up and got tweezers, then she carefully removed the splinters. She concentrated on her work and didn’t realize that he watched her.
***
He woke up when she started to clean him. His sight got better again and finally he could recognize his surroundings. He looked around. It was a nice and warm little room with quite a low ceiling. The furniture was old; on one side of the room there were a wardrobe and a cabinet, in front of the bed was a small chest of drawers. In the corner was a second door. >Must be the bathroom,< he thought. On the other wall there was a window with white-blue-checkered curtains and under it there was an antique writing desk. It didn’t look like the woman used this room, so there must be another bedroom. Kyle looked at the woman cleaning him.
He was stunned. It seemed he was dreaming. Mother. The same long, red curls like her. He could smell the shampoo she used. But it wasn’t her, this was Rika. She had told him her name. Her hands were warm and gentle, her skin had the colour of bronze. He knew that most red haired people were pale and burned their skin by the sun very easily, but she seemed to be used to sun. When she noticed his glance she turned her head to him. A red curl had fallen into her face. She looked at him: “I didn’t want to wake you up. I hope it doesn’t hurt too much?” She had green eyes, dark green eyes. She was beautiful, with full lips and long eyelashes, she was tanned and he could see some freckles on her little snub nose.
He grinned weakly: “No, it doesn’t. Thank you!” Her smile widened.
“You don’t have to thank me that much. I had to help you.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“So you live with your parents here?” Did he really try to start a conversation? He couldn’t believe it himself.
“Yes, I did. They died a few years ago. I like it here, it is wonderful, peaceful.” She wetted the flannel and started to wash off the blood. While she did so, he stared at her. She nearly looked like his mother, maybe because of the hair, maybe because of her skirt. He knew the picture of his mother, Jarod had shown him. - Jarod, he had to find his brother.-
“You need rest! I will apply an ointment I made. It will ease the pain of the burnings. I don’t think that the bullet is still in your body. I can see the wounds on either side of your leg. I hope it doesn’t become inflamed.” Her voice was deep, calm and quiet, he had to listen carefully, though she spoke very clearly. He cleared his throat and said: “I don’t think so, I always recover very well.”
She smiled: “Seems like you are used to aches and cuts and other injuries?”
“You can say so.” His face darkened.
Rika felt the change in his mood. She saw some pictures of a bald man with an oxygen tank beside him. She felt the violence coming from this man. She stood up and gave Kyle the pyjama. “It’s old, but warm. Should fit you!” Her eyes fell on his body. He was very masculine and strong. His muscular chest moved with his breath. She could see a tattoo. >Prisoner, he was a prisoner, be careful, Rika< She didn’t listen to the voice in her head, instead she left the room and went downstairs. She knew: for now she could trust him, he wouldn’t hurt her, not yet…
***
Two days after:
It was about 9 a.m. when he woke up again. He felt better and tried to get up. But he couldn’t. When he tried to get on his feet, he felt the sharp pain in his wounded leg weakening him. Slowly he sank back on the pillow. He couldn’t afford to faint. He examined himself: he had a fever but the wound seemed to have healed properly. He closed his eyes and moaned. At this very moment, his elderly brother was with their mother, a family reunion but without him. The pain he felt was not the pain of his injuries, it was emotional.
