Read The Poison Morality for Free Online Page B

to stand so I can take a look.”  If it was something he couldn’t do on his own, that would possibly be his only option, to drag a hysterical woman, bleeding into casualty.
    The cut was deep but not life threatening.  Trying to push his hands away, she kept repeating, “I’m okay, I’m okay,” not sure if she was trying to convince him or her.  Sophie’s head felt heavy but the adrenaline and pain kept her alert.
    His scarf slid easily off his neck, managing to get it around her waist, it was nearly impossible for him to tie it when she was clawing at his hands but he worked quickly, her nails leaving welts but he managed to pull a knot tightly until she cried out through clenched teeth.  It hurt more and she started pulling on the knot for relief.  He took her hand gently but firmly, “Stop.  It needs pressure.”  The pain started to change to a dull throb but a chill began deep inside her and penetrated outwards so that she couldn’t even feel the frigid temperatures any longer.
    Pulling on her arm, he directed her to the edge of the sidewalk, waving down a cab and taking his coat off and wrapping her in it, holding it closed around her like a cape.  He all but shoved her in the taxi, spouting an address.  His arm was around her shoulder, his hand held steady pressure on her wound.  Positioning her in somewhat of an embrace, she sank deeper into the warmth of his body. 
    Occasionally, she realized her head dropped heavy on his chest, jerking her head up a few times.  But once she realized he didn’t care and neither did she, she let it rest there, breathing in rhythm with the rise and fall of his chest to keep her focus away from the source of the pain that now throbbed with every heartbeat.
    They rode in silence, the swishing sound of traffic passing by, the hum of the engine, the blur of the lights, the steady way he held her, was both comforting and yet unnerving. 
    A short ride later, they arrived at their destination, she only recognized as somewhere in Kensington by the route they took.  He led her into a building of a very nice, quiet neighbourhood.  Very fancy by her standards, the kind of places that had brass door knockers and doorbell frames, clean white columns and tree lined streets.  Keys jangled as he opened the front door of the building and they proceeded up a flight of stairs slowly and carefully, his arm supporting her.
    “Where are we,” she asked wide eyed.
    “At my flat,” he felt her stiffen and she planted her feet, “I assure you, you’re quite safe, I’m going to see to you,” he said opening the door.  The warmth of the flat caressed her cold skin but she did not feel the benefit of it especially when one hand was still around her and the other took the coat off her shoulders. 
    Assisting her gently on a leather sofa, he was patient.  The phone fell out of her pocket with a loud clatter on the floor.  She struggled to reach for it but he picked it up hurriedly and tossed it out of reach on the coffee table.
    He was busy turning on lights that hurt her eyes and pulling an ottoman over for him to sit on.  His movements seemed without urgency but it was only from the efficiency and knowledge of what he was doing did it seem so. 
    Sophie looked around at the modern apartment, its sleek furnishings and full kitchen, the candles on the fireplace mantel, never melted, a painting of a girl with dark eyes, lying naked and a couple of other black and white photos that did not match the painting centred on the walls, heavy drapes hung simply over the windows.  Everything was very neat and organized.  A small bookcase housed an array of books of light reading and medical books.  She wanted to get up and go look at them but she abandoned the idea as soon as it came.
    Disappearing momentarily, she could hear him shuffling around, going in this drawer, going in that cabinet and the tap until he came back supplied and snapped on some gloves.  Slowly, he took her wrist