Isle of the Faeries

On Wounds and Nursing

Alright here is the second chapter :)

Breena

      I sigh, "Take off your shirt; I'm going to get some antiseptics and gauze." I leave him with his buttons and go to the bathroom closet to find any first aid supplies we have, I pile it all in a small tin tub with a few towels and go back to the kitchen. My stomach flips. Kean is sitting on the chair where I left him leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his shirt in his clasped hands, he looks down at the cracked gray tile, his dark hair flopping over his face. The contrast of his shoulders is stark; the left is pale skin pulled taut over muscle dusted with freckles, the right is still covered with a bandage soaked through and stiffened with dry blood, the skin that peeks from beneath the bandage is mottled red, blue, purple and black. Suddenly I am not too sure I want to see what lies under that bandage. I must make a noise because Kean looks up at me standing in the doorway. I hoist the tub further up on my hip, "Got everything," I say with a small smile.

       "You really don't have to do this," he says probably reading the slight hesitation on my face, "it's not a little cut."

      I swallow my apprehension, square my shoulders and walk towards him, "If I don't who will?" I put the tub at his feet and begin to unpack it.

      He puts a hand on my shoulder, "I can clean it when I get home."

      I just shake my head and go to the sink turning on the tap to fill the tub, I turn to look at him, "Let me."

      He nods and picks at the bandage.

      The tub is heavy and awkward but I manage to get it back across the kitchen without sloshing too much onto my shirt. I go back to wash my hands and grab a pair of scissors and tell him to sit up. I flick water from my fingertips and turn around to find Kean sitting upright with his hands clasped behind his head his eyes closed. Growing up with the physical labor of a farm has sculpted his body well, he is lean and well- muscled but he is also a patchwork of scar tissue. His right hip looks like it has been mauled – which it probably has – and his chest, stomach and arms are snow flaked with raised scars from a multitude of injuries, a scar like twisted wire runs down the left side his rib cage looking suspiciously like a cut from a knife. In the crook of his left elbow there is a scarlet mark that on closer inspection appears to be the number seven. I bit at the inside of my cheek, it bothers me to know that he had gone through so much pain in his life – my eyes flit to his shoulder – that he is still going through so much pain.

      I take a deep breath that shakes only slightly before leaning over and putting one hand on his left shoulder to steady myself. Carefully I start to cut away the bandage that stretches across his shoulder and wraps around his back and chest. Finally I am able to peel it away from him, guilt pinches my stomach as he flinches when the bandage sticks to his wound.

      It is worse than I had thought. His flesh is a mangled mess of muscle and skin, I am not sure how it can even heal without professional help. Gnawing on my lip I say, "Maybe we should go to Rell and get this looked at Kean."

      He shakes his head and his hair brushes my cheek, "No, as long as it doesn't get infected it will be fine. I can heal it, it is one of the gifts of the Keepers."

      I nod not quite believing him, still I grab one of the towels and dip it in the water, "This will hurt," I warn before starting to dab away the dried blood. I start at the outside edges and work my way in, cringing internally every time he flinches away from my touch. By the time I am satisfied I have cleaned away all the blood the once white towel is red and ruined and Kean's face is tight and white.