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When You Need Help
“Does it hurt a lot, Noel?” Hayden asked, patting the wound above Noel’s eyelid with alcohol-soaked cotton.
Noel flinched, holding onto Eden’s shirt tighter every time the cotton touched the wound.
“Of course it would.” Eden frowned, holding a packet of ice to his head, where Harper’s gun hit him. “Can’t you be gentler, Hayden?”
“There is not much I can do about that,” Hayden said, not caring too much about Eden. “Noel asked not to be taken to the hospital so I need to do what I can here.”
“Why do you not like the hospital, anyway, Noel?”
The black-haired opened one eye, typing with his free hand, “Records.”
“Oh, right. You are trying to keep your identity hidden.” Eden said, suddenly realizing. “But … how do you take care of your injuries then.”
“That is one of the reasons I don’t like
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