Zoya’s P.O.V
At first, I could not move. I did not know what to do at the sight of… this. I had expected a peaceful night, at last, after the shitshow I had experienced yesterday. I thought I could finally rest and wallow in my thoughts as well as the direness of this situation in a place where nothing reminded me of everything.
I thought I could finally be alone, in a place where no one else was, so no one could stop me from beating myself up for everything that had happened and, in the end, eventually, pulling my own weight back up.
However, instead of the prospect of rest and relaxation, I was greeted by a very wounded, very naked man inside the cabin I'm supposed to be living in for the duration of my stay here in the Sapphire Mountains.
He was lying with his back on the floor; his limbs sprawled out on either side of him. I thought he was dead, and the idea nearly gave me a heart attack, but as I inspected him more closely, walking a bit closer so I could see him better in the overhead lighting, I noticed that he was not as motionless as my first impression of him made him out to be, his body moving to rise up and sink down ever so subtly as he breathed in his unconsciousness.
The next thing I noticed, after the initial shock had worn off was his bareness. As a doctor, I had seen many naked men and women in my profession and studies, but never had I seen one so… astounding. I could not help but admire him, though I eventually
caught myself and shook the thoughts from my mind, focusing on the next concerning
thing about him: his wounds.
Stop it, Zoya! I scolded myself mentally. You’re a doctor! Be more professional!
What should I do now? I tried to weigh my options. Cam was long gone by now, so I couldn't ask her for help. I did have her number, so I could call her. That was one option
that I could try.
I fished out my phone from my pocket and dialed her number, but the reception was so bad that the call wouldn't go through. I tried a couple more times, but the results were the same each time.
“Please try your call again later,” said the grating, monotonous computer voice coming from my phone. I wanted to throw my phone away as an expression of my agitation, but
I knew it wouldn’t be helping anyone, and a broken phone in the middle of nowhere
certainly wouldn’t be of any help to me.
Frustrated, I pocketed my phone quickly, sighing. “I might as well have not asked for her
contact number in the first place, if I couldn't even get the call to go through at all,” I muttered to myself, though I knew that I didn't believe that. Having someone to call as a
safety net, a precaution, was always better than having no one. Still, having my only
chance at getting help immediately thwarted was inconvenient and frankly quite annoying. If I had been in a life or death situation, I would have been dead already.
Complaints aside… none of my problems would be fixed if I kept standing here, whining in my head.
Now for option two… my gaze drifted to the man lying face-first in the middle of the room. Perhaps I could drag him out of the cabin. That wouldn't be very nice, but it was still an option. What else could I do, anyway? Dress his wounds and tuck him good night?
I wondered if he was a thief or some kind of criminal. Why else would he sneak into this empty cabin? Perhaps he had been searching for valuables he could pilfer. But that didn't
explain the lack of his clothes, as well as his wounds.
Suddenly, I had a vivid imagination of him getting up and viciously attacking me.
Perhaps this wounded charade was a ruse to get my guard down, his nakedness a ploy to confuse me? But I took a closer look at him and those wounds did not seem to be fake.
As a doctor, technically, I would know. Some of the blood on his skin was fresh, while some had already dried, splotches of dark brown staining his skin.
After establishing that his current state was not merely an act, I was haunted yet again
by another vision, but this time he was merely shaken awake by my fussing over him and
he got so angry for having been woken up in such a manner that he suddenly attacked
me. He certainly looked strong enough to overpower me even in this state, plus I was
not a difficult person to overpower as I am not very strong. I shook the thought away.
Perhaps I had gotten it all wrong, and it was the other way around: he was the victim of
a theft or an attack, which would explain why he was without garments, and why he was
all bloodied and bruised, cut up and dirty.