"Now would you let me fix you up?" Chat asked.
"Seriously?" I replied.
He looked at me in a confused way, "Yes of course, why wouldn't I be serious? I want to make everything I can better for my princess." His princess. No one ever called me any nickname other than Mari, or something rude. I felt my face flush at his words.
"I-It's just that, n-n-no one has ever a-asked me something like th-that.."
His face went sad again, "That just proves how many people don't know you, because if they did, they would see what I see. A wonderful, beautiful, creative girl, who deserves the world." He was just saying that because he saw me hurting myself, right?
"U-uhm.. Well s-sure, do w-what ever you want." I brushed his comment aside. With that he sat me back on my chaise, and headed out the door to find the bathroom, I think.
I just realized a blood stain on the side of the chaise. I wonder how I could get it out. There wasn't a sheet or anything on the chaise, it was already patterned. Maybe I could take peroxide to it later on.
Just then chat walked in with what looked like every bandage, bottle, ointment, and gauze in the bathroom, no, the house.
I laughed at him, "where did you find all that?"
"W-well, you had a lot of things in there and I want to make sure your all better! Physically and mentally." He smiled at me, and I smiled back.
He took a seat next me and touched my sleeve, –I had pulled it down when I realized there wasn't any room on my arm– as if asking for permission to lift it. I hesitated, but gave him a slight nod. He lifted my sleeve, but the bunch it the fabric made it only halfway up.
"I- it won't gee any m-more up.." He stuttered out, obviously thinking about the only way to get all the way up my arm.
"Gee?" I joked.
"Go! I meant go, stop teasing! This is serious!" We both laughed, then just stared at each other.
"It's alright kitty.." His cheeks turned pink as he nodded. He grabbed the end of my sweater, and lifted it over my head, leaving me in only a bra. He just stared for a second, until he finally snapped out of it and gently grabbed my arm, careful not to hurt me. He doused a cotton swab in some type of wound cleaning liquid, then wiped blood off of my arms. It didn't sting on either arm, since those were already scabbed, and he paused before doing my hand. He threw away the cotton swab he had, even though he had just gotten that one, and grabbed a warm, damp, rag. He slightly pressured it on my right hand. I winced at the contact, and he immediately took it off and asked if I was ok, I said I was fine and he continued. Then he took another doused cotton swab to my hand and was careful not to go over any cuts. Once he was finished, he repeated the same thing on the opposite hand.
He finished cleaning my arms and hands, wiped the fresh blood off my hand, (It never stopped bleeding.) put ointment on the cuts, then wrapped them up in gauze and bandage wrap.
"Thank you chat." I thanked.
"No problem princess." He pulled me into a hug, "I don't want to have to do this again, so promise you won't c- c- cu-"
"I promise." I could see he was struggling saying what I did out loud.
"Chat."I said.
"Yes?"
"Why do you care about me so much? I mean, the only time we've talked before this a couple times when you were saving me."
"I- It's my job." His job? So he doesn't really care about me?
"Alright i-it's time for me to go now, bye!"
It's my job. That's all it is.. And all anything ever will be. No matter who pretends to care for me, it's just a way to make other people happy so they get credits. It'll always be an assignment, or pity, or a cover. Never real. Now that I think about it, I don't think anythings ever been real, all fake. I hugged my knees, planted my face in between, and cried. I cried and cried. But no matter how much I did, it wouldn't stop. And nothing would change.