"Your dad is right. You should see a doctor—"
He walked past me. He dragged the chair near the bed and sat on it. The wet towel he used with his hair is now on his lap. He glared as he looked expectantly at me.
"What? You're being a mom to me again?"
I shook my head and walked to him."You've lost too much blood. You look pale. Are you just going to let that bullet kill you?”
"Why not? If it would make him regret, then why not?" The bitterness dripped from his tone. He fisted his hands and lowered his head to the floor. "I can't believe he can do this to me."
"Yves..."
"Just... Just fvcking stay on one corner or fix yourself in the bathroom or sleep on the bed. Leave me alone here."
"I'm sorry," I said in a mild tone.
He fisted his hands on his hair, his elbows resting on his knee
