That woman is down on the ground, tightly grasping her arm. The expression on her face tells me that she's in a lot of pain. I want to just run up there, pick her up and take her to the couch to patch her up, but is that really the right thing to do? No. No, it's not. If I want to gain her trust, I have to do things her way. I can't make any sudden movements, or do anything to her on my own. Not as long as she's awake, anyways. If I want her to trust me, I have to make it so she wants me to help her. I have to word my statements carefully and make sure she knows, full well, that I'm not here to hurt her.

My hand is still reaching out to her, but I know I can't do anything but talk. I carefully move my other hand and pull both the medicine and the bandages out of my pocket, setting them down, right in front of me. I come to a sitting positions, folding my legs indian-style, and begin to speak to her, hoping to find some way to get her patched up. “Listen, I know you don't trust me, but you're hurt, and I'm sure you know that. Both of your arms got cut up pretty bad, and we need to get your other arm treated with the medicine and bandages that I treated your other arm with. Please, can I come over there and help you?”

“No! Stay away from me!” The woman's screams only brought my optimism down further. Even in pain and holding onto her arm, she was resisting the idea of me helping her. The fear going through her head must have been absolutely horrifying for her to resist treatment, all this time. I cannot give up, though. Infection might spread faster in someone so short. I can't risk her not getting patched up at all. She needs to be treated, even if I'm not the person who would end up doing the treating. I can't force her to let me treat her, but maybe I can let her do it, herself.

With both my hands, I slowly push the medicine and bandages forward, opening up the medicine in the process. I let go of the two of them and scoot myself backwards as I talk to her. “Okay, that's fine. I'll stay away from you, if you're that scared. I'm just going to leave the medicine and bandages here, and I'm going to go to the other room, okay? You can come out and treat yourself, when you feel up to it, and I'll be in the kitchen, where we came into the house. Will that be fair and acceptable for you?”

I slowly get up, her eyes watching me, with an angry and intent look on her face, as if she were an assassin, watching her target. “I...I'm not scared! I'm just concerned for being trapped in a house with someone big and scary, like you!” I smile a little as I back up further, putting my palms in front of me, as I speak and reach the recliner on the other end of the room. The floor creaks as my socked feet press down, against the front of the chair. “Alright, alright. I'm sorry I thought you were scared. Just, please, treat that arm before you get an infection. There isn't a hospital around for miles, and I don't want you getting sick.”

I slowly move out of the living room, as much as I don't want to. There is a gut feeling that is telling me not to leave her alone, but what else can I do? She is obviously very afraid of me. I very much doubt she would use all of that stuff, were I still in the room with her. It will take time to get her to trust me, and I have to show her that she can do just that. I need to show her, slowly, that I'm not out to get her, and that she's safe with me. I have no idea how long that will take, but it doesn't matter. She's a pretty young woman, and for the time being, she's stuck here. I'll take as much time as I need to for this.

I step into the kitchen and grab a towel from the counter. This whole ordeal has been stressing me out. I can feel sweat pouring down my forehead. Throwing the towel into my face, I slowly push into it, feeling it's cool, soft texture and wipe away the perspiration that has produced itself on me. Pulling the towel away, I take a deep breath and look down at the counter. The pink towel is set down on the counter and I can't help but be curious and want to go back into the living room. As much as she doesn't like me being around right now, it's nice to have someone else in the house. Although she doesn't trust me yet, I kinda like this woman. It might be nice to have someone around the house with me, even if they're only a couple feet tall.

Pulling out a small bottle of Spray Deodorant from a drawer in the counter, I start spraying myself, not wanting any form of body odor, lingering from my body. I did just get back from a run, and I should probably take another shower. However, this deal with her makes me not want to do that. She could run off, or try to leave again, while I was upstairs and get hurt or something. I can't take that chance. Just as soon as I was thinking about this, I heard small footsteps in the hallway. I look up, confused a little. Surely, she could not have wrapped herself up so quickly, could she?

Peeking my head into the hall, I don't see anything, nor do I hear the footsteps anymore. My eyes scan the area as I make my way back into the living room. When I get there, I see that the bandages and medicine are gone. The girl must have grabbed them and run off someplace else in the house. I sigh and shake my head. She's still scared, but at least she is planning on patching up her wound. I cross my arms and start walking through the hallway, hoping to find her before she gets into something and makes a mess.