Shoving the clothes into the washer, I divide the rest of the baskets according to colour, making sure none of Caster's brightly coloured touka's end up with my white shirts.
After Caster ran away from me, I decided it wouldn't do me any good thinking about Lavere's parentage all day. If no one's going to tell me what's going on in this house, then there's no point stressing over it. They won't answer any of my questions anyway.
Shutting the lid to the very old, and very human, washing machine, I turn the dials to the correct setting. It buzzes, the awful noise ringing in my ears as it pings the dial back to its starting point.
"Stupid piece of—" I spin it again and receive the same reaction.
Frustrated, I lift the lid and slam it back down, turning the dial once again. The machine refuses to do its job and in a frustrated ball of anger I growl and slam my fist on the top of it.
Searing pain flies up my arm, my bandaged hand spasming. Holding it close to my chest without touching it, my teeth clench as the pain continues to pulse up my hand and into my arm.
I glare at the dumb machine, but instead of it buzzing angrily back at me, it turns on with the familiar sound of water gushing through its pipes. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
Giving it a good boot, I turn around and leave the room, hoping maybe if I get some ice from the kitchen it will help with the throbbing.
"What're you doing?" I jump at the question, spinning around to see Avørek.
One of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows is raised in disbelief.
"Nothing," I say as I drop my hand back to my side, biting the inside of my cheek as the pain worsens from the fast movement.
Pivoting on my heel I move further into the kitchen and attempt to skirt around the marble island. Avørek darts forward, following me with the grace of a cat until he's standing a little too close with my hand in his grasp.
"Is it still bothering you?"
I try to shrug, the motion becoming awkward with one of my hands trapped in his. "I wacked it on the washer."
He looks at me with some sort of confusion, before snorting, "Humans are so careless."
I scowl, but he doesn't say anything else as he focuses on unravelling the bandages. His soft touch does little to calm my heart that's beating erratically in my chest from fear. The nightmare of a creature this alien turns into is still haunting me, lingering at the back of my mind. I don't know first aid though, so it seems Avørek is the only one that can help me.
Once he gets down to the last layer of cloth, I can't help but suck in a sharp breath. My hand feels too sore, too swollen, and unprotected without the protective layers of the bandages keeping it safe. Avørek hums, inspecting the deep wound as he turns my hand this way and that. He picks up my thumb, turning it so the wound opens a little, causing me to hiss and try to jerk my hand away.
"It seems the spray didn't stick as much as I'd have liked it to."
"What?"
He looks at me, still having a firm grip on my hand. "I used a spray to make the skin stick back together. Usually that's enough, but it seems your human skin is refusing the treatment."
He rolls his eyes at me, as if I'm the one refusing whatever treatment it is that he used.
"Well, can you fix it?"
"I may have to use something stronger. Sit down and I'll be back."
He drops my hand as he turns, heading into the back kitchen through the swinging door.
YOU ARE READING
Hope
Science FictionEarth has changed. Overpopulated by alien species and humans, nothing is as it once was. Society has taken a turn for the worse, at least, that's how Emery sees it. He's lost his family, his job, and he's lost the one place he could call home. Now...
