There's something outside your door.
At first you thought it could just be an animal sniffing about your porch, perhaps a young fox that might've curled up for the night under your chair. But no, this sounded...bigger. Certainly heavier, with loud, laboured breaths that you could hear through the thick wood.
Only, when you opened the door expecting an injured animal, you find anything but.
Its a man. A big man. And he seems to be missing an arm.
You stand staring at him for a while, your form in the doorway blocking out the warm lamplight in your home behind you. Hesitating for just a minute, you finally creep closer once you realise that his eyes are closed, his brows knit deep in focus, even in sleep.
You get a better look at him like this. Some sort of huge mechanical arm seemed to have been sliced clean from him, and his suit was torn and dirty. He must have dragged himself all the way to your doorstep, as evidenced by the sore looking wounds on his skin.
In any other scenario, you imagined he was rather handsome.
"What happened to you?" You murmur softly, reaching out to trace a cut above his brow before he suddenly stirs, an instinctual jolt that you can barely register until he has your wrist in a vice grip with his only remaining hand.
His eyes are wild. Flashing with an animosity that reminded you of a wolf in a snare. You fear for your life for all of two seconds before his arm drops and his head lolls, passing out from exhaustion once more.
You place a hand over your heart. Calming the rabbiting of it as you pace your porch and mull over your options. You didn't know him. But he looked dangerous. The bruising on your wrist doubly confirmed that. But who on Earth were you to leave a man to die on your doorstep?
And as you hook your fingers into the front of his suit jacket, dragging him into your home with the most effort you could possibly muster, you couldn't help but wonder if you'd seen his face before.
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