Read Surviving Raine 01 for Free Online

took a deep breath, like she was trying to prepare herself, and then came over close to me.  I tied the end of the suture thread in a knot and then handed her both the thread and the surgical needle.  I took the bloody gauze off my forehead and she gasped, holding her hand over her mouth.
    “Don’t even fucking think about it,” I growled, staring her in the eye.  She looked into my eyes for a moment and then nodded her head slowly.  “Just put it out of your mind.  You’re playing seamstress on one of your dolls, okay?”
    “Okay,” she whispered.
    I sat cross-legged in front of her while she got up on her knees to reach my head.  Even then she was just barely tall enough.  I took a couple of deep breaths myself, mentally preparing for the pain and trying to not be too obvious about staring at the milk mounds right in front of my face.  I could only see the tops of them, but her tits looked pretty fucking perfect.
    She stabbed into my skin and I tried to force myself not to flinch.  It didn’t work completely but definitely got my mind off her boobs.
    “Ow!”
    “I’m sorry!” she cried.
    “Just get on with it,” I snarled.
    She stabbed into my skin two more times before the raft hit a large wave and threw her into my lap with the needle nearly drilling a hole into my skull.
    “Fucking hell!” I screamed, shoving her off of me.  She was so light, I tossed her into the other side of the raft where she bounced against the fabric wall.
    “I’m sorry!” she screamed again.
    “Holy shit, bitch!” I yelled.  “You could have taken my fucking eye out!”
    “I couldn’t help it!” she cried out.  “I didn’t mean to!”
    I spent a few seconds collecting myself.  I knew she didn’t mean to, and sitting up on her knees like that wasn’t easy in a rocking raft.  I groaned, rubbed the new spot of blood off my head, and lay down on my back.  I looked to the other side of the raft where she was cringing from me.
    “Fucking try again,” I demanded.
    “No,” she said.  “You aren’t going to call me names and then expect me to help you.”
    “Maybe you didn’t hear me,” I growled.  “My being alive is in your best interest.  Helping me is just like saving yourself.”
    “You aren’t going to die from a wound that small.”  She scowled back at me.  “I’m not that gullible.”
    “I don’t give a shit if you are gullible or not,” I said.  “Back in your little mansion at home, this cut isn’t dangerous.  Out here without antibiotics available, it could be my death sentence.  You want to risk my life and yours?”
    She sat for a minute just looking at me, probably trying to decide if I was lying to her or not.  I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself back down, but it was too fucking hot to relax, and my head really ached now.  Finally, she moved back over to me tentatively, like I was going to fucking bite her or something.  She managed to finish after about four more stitches.
    “I need something to cut the end of the thread.”
    “I got it,” I said, pulling my jackknife out of its home in my belt.  I reached up, felt for the thread, and quickly cut off the end.  I kissed the flat part of the blade before sheathing it again.
    “Why did you do that?”
    “Do what?”
    “Um…kiss the knife?”
    “It’s my lucky knife,” I mumbled.
    “Why is it lucky?”
    I sighed.  This was shit I really didn’t want to discuss.  Maybe if I gave her a little taste, she’d get the idea and stop asking.
    “Because it sliced me open and I didn’t die.  Seems lucky to me.”
    She looked at me for a minute, and then her eyes flashed to my arm and back again.
    “Is that the big scar on your back?”
    I flinched.
    “Yeah.”
    “It’s from that knife?”
    “Yeah.”
    “How?”
    “I cut myself shaving,” I sneered, then sighed.  I really was just seriously tense.  I wasn’t this much of a sarcastic dick under normal circumstances.  Well, not quite this