𝘖𝘩, 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘴𝘦.

Painful Rescue.

"Uh..Dave?"

Thatcher sat Mark down on a chair, he had barely moved at all. Not really like he could due to injuries.

"Oh, coming!"

Dave came over with bandages and alcohol..And a lollipop. He's to generous, it's funny.

"Holy shit-.."

Dave saw all the cuts and bruises left on the brunette, he stared in horror. What..Happened to him in that basement? And, if he was there to long, would he have died?

He didn't wanna stare for to long, Mark would eventually notice.

"Here..Kid- I got you."

Dave rolled up Marks pant leg where the stab wounds here. He's lucky they weren't infected or they'd probably have to amputate it.

He poured some alcohol on tissues, and started to clean the cuts..Each was bigger than the last. Dave looked up to see Mark close to crying, he was wincing a lot.

"Mark!- you gotta tell me if it hurts, okay?"

"Mm..H..m.."

Dave carefully cleaned the ones on his leg until he was done. Then he switched to the other..

"A gunshot wound. Be careful when you clean it." Thatcher said, Dave looked up at him..

He seemed..Confused, looking at Mark. Like something happened when he saved the brunette..Whatever.

Dave rolled up the other pant leg..He..Noticed it all,

The bullet hadn't gone all the way through.

"Call an ambulance."

"Sorry?"

"Call an ambulance, Thatch."

"Alright."

Thatcher took out his phone and began to dial the number for the ambulance.

Dave knew that he wasn't skillful enough to take out the bullet himself.

The ambulance eventually came. Dave carried Mark into the truck..With Thacher.

"This is..To stressful." Thatcher groaned quietly.

"It'll be alright, Thatch. Don't worry, k?"

"I-I know, this is just..To much. And-"

"Hush, Thatcher. Don't sweat it. I'm sure Mark will be fine, okay?"

Dave gave Thatcher a reassuring smile. He returned it.

"But it's just..The things that Cesar had said, it sent..Shivers down my spine."

"Oh? What'd he say?"

"I guess it was..Manipulation? Trying to make the victim fall into Stockholms syndrome..Nearly worked. Mark tried to fight back when I first got him out the basement and when I picked him up and tried bringing him to the car. Or he was just..Scared of me?"

"God..That's..Horrible. Who would do such a thing?..I hope Mark is actually alright. His friends miss him."

"Me too."

They eventually came to the hospital, Mark getting carried out. The three went to a room were Mark was placed down on a comfortable looking bed, the blankets shuffling over him.

"Mark? Are you awake?..They're gonna get that bullet out your leg, okay? And then they're gonna clean everything..Well, better than I did."

Dave chuckled, Mark cracked a weak smile. Dave was always use to cheering Mark up, and it was working.

Mark sat up, ready for what was to come. He knew it would hurt but he needed to get it over with..He knew it'd hurt less after.

"It'll be okay, don't worry."

Dave pondered things to talk about while they waited.

"Think of it like getting a shot! I remember when I use to bring you to get them..I did for a very long time because you were scared of being alone when they did em! And you still ask me to come with you even when your 17 now."

Dave basically raised Mark when he was little, Mark had most of his memories with Dave. His relationship with his parents was rocky, but never horrible. But Dave was always there for him when his parents weren't.

"You'd always ask me to squeeze your hand, and you'd always squeeze in return..You use to be so scared of needles. Are you still?"

"Mm..Ye..Ah..I don't like em.."

"I thought so! Needles suck away..Sometimes I wish they'd just let you drink the stuff they have in em!"

Mark let out a weak chuckle, Dave smiled at the fact that Mark was starting to at least feel a little better.

"T-Thanks..Uncle Dave.."

"No problem, champ."