Babysitting A Grown Dude

I slowly crawled behind the dark curtains to somehow reach Clark. He was still throwing random stuff here and there like a lunatic. I was shit scared, but I was paid to take care of him, wasn't I?

I slid from behind the curtains and he sensed some movement behind him, for he suddenly stopped destroying all the articles. His whole right hand and the place where he stood was covered with blood. It was such a horrendous scene to witness. My legs wobbled and my hands were slightly trembling.

At first, I thought of pouncing on him from behind and hold him tightly to prevent any further destruction. But when I pondered over my plan again, I realized that neither I had so much strength to hold Clark nor I would do so, since it would hurt him even more.

I gulped in trepidation and took a step forward. He cocked his head slightly, but his back was facing me so I couldn't see his face. I shut my eyes and took two, long strides and stood a few feet away from him. He let go of the broken bottle and it rolled away. I sighed and gingerly walked towards him. He was staring down at the floor and then at his hand and winced.

I eyed him suspiciously and grabbed his arm. His arm was hot and I was afraid that he was stricken with fever. I held his arm as tenderly as possible. Fortunately, he didn't protest and let me examine the wound. He had lost so much blood and it was essential to dress the wound properly. I was trained in nursing since my mum was a doctor. Ha! I wasn't that useless! I internally smiled and did a happy dance.

"You stay here, I'll come back with the first aid," I commanded. He didn't say anything and just stood there like a rock. I wasn't sure if I could leave him out of my sight even for a second but I had to.

I hurried and brought the first aid kit as fast as possible. Luckily, he was still standing there as if analysing the destruction he caused. I rushed to him, but he did not move. I held his arm gently but firmly and examined his palm. It was coated with blood and there were pieces of glass stuck in it.

"We need to rush you to the hospital. I can treat you but it's safe for you to check into a clinic. You're bleeding like shit," I cursed and wiped off some blood. He didn't say anything and I was afraid of picking the sharp glass out of his palm myself. Before I could make any move, he, himself picked out the glass like he was picking up peas from a pod, but I couldn't miss the hiss that left his mouth.

"What the hell are you doing, Brownie?" I yelled, but as always, he didn't open his mouth. He threw the glass and fresh blood oozed out of his palm. I cringed inwardly and quickly took out all the materials to dress the wound. After doing all what was necessary, I wrapped a thin, cotton cloth over his dressed wound. All this while he didn't utter a word nor did he move. He just stood there like he was already dead, but what caused him to be so sad?

"Why are you doing this? We shouldn't harm ourselves. There's no pleasure in pain. Get over all that crap in your life and try to be happy," I said in a low voice, realizing how silly I sounded and placed the materials back into the first aid box neatly. I glanced at him and he was totally ignoring me. Of course he was, I couldn't just tell anyone to 'get over it' that didn't make sense and was wrong on my part. I sighed and walked towards him and managed to successfully push him on the couch. He didn't complain and his face was still the same, devoid of any emotion.

"Let's hope you don't get any infection . . . Now sit here Brownie and don't you dare move. Since you injured your hands, looks like you're going to get fed by mamma George," I said playfully and came back carrying his soup bowl in my hands. I hummed like a bee and stood right in front of Clark. He didn't even look at me and his hands were clasped together as he stared intently at the shiny floor. It was odd to feed an arrogant man in his twenties who was older than me. I put the spoon into the bowl and held it in the front of his mouth. I tapped my feet, trying to draw his attention and he looked up. His dark brown hair was disheveled and his light brown eyes hidden behind his glasses.

"Say, aah . . . there you go!" I cooed and tried to shove the spoon inside his mouth. His lips was parted, but the moment the spoon touched his lips, he pursed his lips into a thin line and I scowled.

"Stop behaving like a little kid and here!" I held the spoon tightly and tried to open his jaw. He shut his pretty eyes and continuosly shook his head. I gawked at him and I was thoroughly amused by his actions, but I was not going to lose this battle. I placed my foot on the side of the couch, beside his knees for support. I then continued to try open his jaw and shove the spoon in his mouth.

He spluttered the soup and drops of it fell on my hand. I jumped six feet high and screeched because my hand burned as the hot liquid traveled down my palm.

I glowered at him and placed my free hand on my hip and sneered, "Oh, look! You have stuffed so many marshmallows in your mouth that you couldn't say that the soup was hot. I burned my freaking hand!"

He rolled his eyes and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. I frowned and put the spoon into the bowl. I brought it near my mouth and started blowing it to make it less hot. I then fed him with it and he obediently drank. The whole room was silent so I turned on the tv. Whitney Houston's 'I will always love you' blared from the speakers. I grinned and sang along, "I will always love . . . youuu . . . "

I was tired of feeding him and to make the process faster, I took the bowl in my hand. I blew the liquid and before I could mourn over my stupidity, the soup spilled all over Clark. Clark's shirt was soaked in delicious soup. I laughed like a hyena but stopped immediately when he glared at me. He warned, "If you continue with your mischief, I'll make sure you're fired and not paid because these clothes are damn expensive."

I stifled my laughter and nodded obediently since I already had a shortage of money. My family was quite rich, but my dad wouldn't give me much allowances since I spent them quickly. I already had to pay back a lot of money to dad for bailing me out of jail and I couldn't afford anymore debt. I quickly bent down to wipe and at the same time he got up, I didn't know for what stupid reason. Our hard heads bumped and he groaned.

I laughed and said, "You just wait here, I'll bring you a clean shirt, but please don't tell anything to Greta. I need the money and nobody is offering me a job anywhere."

He didn't say anything but I couldn't miss his slight nod. I sighed in relief and went up to bring a clean shirt. I didn't know where Clark's clothes were kept so I picked out something else instead and gleefully hopped downstairs. He was still seated there quitely and I stood in front of him. His hand was injured and he couldn't undress himself so I had to do the awkward job.

I leaned down and reached for his t-shirt. He quietly sat there, making the situation more awkward. Our lips slightly brushed and a cold shiver ran down my spine. I slid my hand under his t-shirt and glanced at him. His light brown eyes turned dark now and were hidden behind his glasses. Without any warning, I removed it.

"Give it back," he hissed coldly. I purposely grinned and wore it. He got up and reached for me, but I moved a few steps away and playfully pushed his glasses further onto my nose. He groaned when a sharp pain erupted through his injured arm.

"Brownie, calm your man tits. I took your glasses off so I could just change your t-shirt. Moreover, look how smart I'm looking."

Clark's jaw clenched. Why was he agitated and edgy about these ordinary spectacles? And that was when I realized, I could see clearly even wearing these glasses! A number of unanswered questions appeared in my mind. Why was Clark wearing these fake glasses? Who was he? And most importantly, why was he hiding?

I didn't say anything though. He snatched the glasses and quickly wore it. I was itching to know the truth, but even if I asked him, he wouldn't reply. So it was finally time to play Sherlock.

I would find the truth myself. I once again tried to remove his t-shirt and voila! I was successful.

The t-shirt was now stuck to his neck and he couldn't see that I was clearly checking him out. I heard a frustrated groan and I laughed lightly. I forgot that I still didn't remove his t-shirt and made him wait in that helpless position. I gulped and threw his wet t-shirt on the floor.

"Look somewhere else. I feel uncomfortable in presence of a half-naked man," I lied and he rolled his eyes, but anyway he looked away from me. It was not that I wasn't uncomfortable or anything, but I wanted him to look away so I could pull my prank on him. I picked up Greta's pink blouse and muffled my laughter. He was completely ignoring me as his attention was directed towards the television. I slipped Greta's loose blouse over him and he didn't seem to notice. He wasn't that bulky to not fit into her clothes. I finished dressing him and bit my fist to keep me from laughing.

The blouse fit him tightly around his shoulders, but hung loosely in the chest area. The pink colour and the puffed sleeves didn't make him look manly either. He looked adorable and I retrieved my phone quickly to click his picture. He turned towards me and seemed clueless. I clicked innumerable pictures of him and the pictures came in series. First he looked innocent and confused and after discovering what he was wearing, he looked horrified. Then he was fuming in anger and yelled, "Remove this shit now, or you'll regret it later!"