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"Fast! He is bleeding again! We need to stop it, or else he will bleed out!"
Under normal circumstances, the bedroom of the media mogul Charles Augustus Milverton was calm and cozy, but after what happened, it turned into a battlefield where life was desperately fighting death. The two doctors in the room did everything to try to stabilize the man's state who was lying in the bed. Despite the man's brown skin, he looked pale due to the blood loss. He was shot by an assassin and by jumping in the line, he caught the bullet which was originally meant to harm his employer.
Milverton.
The media mogul watched what the doctors were doing while he clenched his fists so hard that his nails scarred his palms which started to bleed. Milverton didn't care about the blood nor the pain, he kept staring at his secretary's body, to the spot where the blood didn't stop pouring from the injury. Milverton was furious that this could happen. The assassin was killed on the spot, but even this didn't ease his vengeful feelings. He was determined to find who hired the man and ruin their lives, taking everything away from them that they loved, then, when they didn't have anything to lose anymore, kill them slowly and painfully, making sure that they suffer more than currently Ruskin did. It was Ruskin who chose to make this sacrifice for Milverton, probably saving his life - but Milverton felt no gratitude. He was frustrated that his secretary did something like this instead of leaving the job to Milverton's bodyguards. It was not Ruskin's job description to protect him and not without a reason. Milverton would have not been bothered by the death of one of his bodyguards too much - but he was attached to Ruskin, the only person he trusted and cared for and he didn't want to lose him.
No, he can't lose Ruskin! He can't! He needs him, he needs him on his side! Without Ruskin, he would be...
So lost and lonely.
The hysteria that he successfully held back until now finally broke out. Milverton couldn't bear to listen to Ruskin's moans anymore which became more and more quiet as his blood flew away. He grabbed his secretary's hand and not caring about the doctors, he raised his voice and let it all out.
"Stop whining, Ruskin! You are fine! You need to be fine!" He begged in despair, his hand was holding onto the cold fingers like his own life mattered on it. "This is an order! You need to get better! I am your employer and I don't allow you to die!"
He clung onto Ruskin's hand while he fell deeper and deeper into his insanity. One of the doctors tried to drag him away from the bedside.
"Mr. Milverton. You are stressing out the patient." He told him in a calming, yet firm voice. "Let us help him, we might be able to still save him. But you are in the way!"
The two doctors managed to remove Ruskin from Milverton's grip. He felt a prick on his arm as one of them gave him tranquilizer. Yet, Milverton still tried to grab Ruskin's arm again, but it slid out of his fingers. He felt that he started to lose his strength, and he became faint. Only one thing kept echoing in his mind.
You are fine, Ruskin.
You need to be fine.