I opened the sink's cabinets and felt around till I happened across a bundle of wrapping and other various injury supplies. I shut and locked the bathroom door, keeping the others out. I pulled off my damaged sweatshirt and ran my fingers over the cut near my heart. It was several inches long and fairly deep. But it was a clean slice and had already crusted over with a good layer of blood. There was also a trail of blood down my front, dried during my travel through the forest. I picked the blood off and poured a liquid I had found under the sink over the wound. The light sting and fizzling of the liquid told me the substance was likely hydrogen peroxide, lucky guess.
I then quickly stepped into the shower and turned the spray on full blast. I scrubbed at the hardened blood and wounds all over my skin, trying to clean everything quickly and effectively. The sting of the water slipping into the cuts was not very pleasant, but I knew they'd need to be properly cleaned if I wanted to avoid infection. There was no hope of them not scarring. I used someone's soap I found near the tub and continued the procedure of cleaning.
After stepping out of the shower and drying off with a towel I found, I searched for the other supplies. I could already feel the small trickle of blood escaping from the wounds, thinned by the water of the shower and unable to dry quickly.
I gingerly wrapped the bandages I found around my chest, underneath my arms but still near the top of my ribs. I made sure it was tight and secure before tying it off and tending to my arm. I wrapped more material around my shoulder, covering the much longer slash across my skin. After the main injuries were settled, I ran my fingers over the many smaller scratches and slices from the backfire of power I had released. They were thin and probably hard to notice, but they also were irritating and painful. I quickly dabbed at the worst of them with hydrogen peroxide and wiped them dry. The little nicks and cuts were already too small to bleed and they were overall clean.
I thought after coming here, I wouldn't have to deal with this pain anymore. I guess I was wrong. I knew now that training was definitively necessary if I was to control this ability – if control was even possible.
The scattered injuries didn't particularly frighten me – I had received worse. They would add to the wide collection of scars across my flesh, leaving their own special mark. However, these scars weren't worth anything. They were pointless. They were the product of an unstable person freaking out and targeting their ally. I hated admitting that these scars were from Jeff thinking I wasn't one of them. I had kind of come to think of him as a friend, you know? I hated that these injuries were the product of my perceived weakness and inability to trust. I hated that the only way I could stop him was with dark violence.
I pulled a fresh set of clothing from one of the cabinets. There had been too many times when I'd had to put on dirty clothing after a shower, so now I kept a nice spare in the bathroom. I made a mental note to restock my little stash with fresh clothing at a later time. I shimmied the fabric over my wounds and pulled the articles tight over my body, making sure little to no skin was visible. Finally, I fitted the mask over my face and ran a hand through my hair.
Then, I unlocked the bathroom door and ambled back over to our room.
"How is he?" My voice came out raspy, still standing in the doorway.
"Fine." Jack replied calmly. "He'll be waking up soon." He finished before I felt his presence become upright and walk towards me. I quickly backed up and made room for him to get by. He brushed past me quietly and disappeared down the hall. "He'll have that black eye for a while though." Jack informed us over his shoulder. I pondered his mind but couldn't tell what he was thinking. His emotions were just like his voice – calm and neutral.
I walked into the room, sitting down on my bed and facing where I knew Jeff to be lying. BEN was also in the room, sitting in one of Jeff's chairs. There was a moment of silence but it was neither awkward nor hostile – at least, as far as I could tell.
"Sorry." I mumbled, "I'm sorry about knocking him out." I continued, turning my face down to my lap though I couldn't see it. It felt weird keeping my head held high when BEN was staring so intently at my form.
"He'll get over it." Came BEN's voice, soft and calm.
"He does this sometimes, you know?" BEN told me, haltingly. "He gets a little crazy from time to time... Who am I kidding, the bastard's always crazy." BEN gave a small laugh, though there was little humor in his mind. I didn't know the proper response so I stayed quiet, relaxing on my bed.
"Are your wounds cleaned?" He asked suddenly.
"Yeah." I replied.
"Good." BEN said quietly, attention on Jeff and mood hard to read. "There hasn't been a newbie in a long time." He stated rather abruptly. His attention seemed to focus on me. "Just... try to..." He trailed off and paused. He sighed, standing up and walking towards the open doorway. "I'd keep practicing if I were you." He mumbled grimly before slipping out the door. His presence flickered and disappeared, absorbed into something I couldn't sense.
"I know." I whispered, sitting in the room – still and quiet. My posture sagged and I relented to the comfy bed, crumbling into the sheets and scrunching into a protective ball. I felt my wounds pull against their bindings, but ignored the brief flash of pain. A deep breath flowed through my body as I released the tension in my chest and tightness of my limbs, seeming to take with it the anxiety of the day. The pain from my wounds dulled as I drifted closer to sleep. However, there was an undercurrent to the pain. There was an ache that I had yet to name, but it made me feel alone again.
I was tired of feeling alone.
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Lil-magpie
Deviant Art