They Called Me FIVE

LANCE

We lay Seven in one of the bedrooms. Ransacking every room for first aid kit and bandages. Sam's feet condition is more terrible than I thought. Some of his skin are peeled off. Exposing the red flesh. The blood won't stop flowing.

Seven is... After we gathered the bandages, disinfectants and other bottles necessary to dress the wounds, we came back where we left her to rest.

She lay sprawled against the headboard. Short legs spread in the mattress, her two hands is clutching her stomach. We gave her some spare clothes from the Twylyth's room in the back. A pair of red shirt and a grey jog pants.

But that wasn't enough to stop her blood overflowing. Her grey pants have blood tracing down to the white sheet. Her hands are coated with blood. Pooling the white sheets, painting the headboard red. Matting her red shirt. The blood glittered darkly, black as tar in the darkness.

"Seven?" I called. Her eyes are close. Breathing slowly. Exhaling deeply. Her eyelids flutter open and she look at me.

"I'll be dressing your wound really really careful okay?" I walk over to her, showing the box of bandages. She stare at them. Then stare at me.

"I'm okay." She whisper lowly in my head. "Don't waste those bandages on me. Apply it to Two's wounds."

I shake my head. "You need it. Your wounds are not healing. If you're not careful enough, your guts will spill out."

A small smile spread across her lips. She slowly shake her head and look at down at her stomach.

"If it's guts splattering across the floor you want, you can always ask vivid description from Magnus. He saw a lot."

Her chapped white lips parted in amusement. Her face is badly covered in sweat. She's getting paler by the second. A little twitch can set her off, wincing.

"Hey, careful careful." I chided. "No one wants to hear stories about people's insides spilling out. Besides, I'm talking about you. Please don't be stubborn and let me patch you up."

We had a staring contest for one minute. Her eyes squinting in protest, while mine frowning to insist. At last she sigh, she look away and nods. I smiled. I get on to work immediately.

There's no girls in our group, only her. Magnus and Jesper protested when I offered to patch her wounds. Saying there's gotta be some boundary on how much I want to help her. But I insisted. Inviting another woman to patch up Seven is not a wise move. That will only risk exposing our situation to others. Who knows there might be other Faeries hiding, lurking in the surroundings. We can't stay in Madel's inn for long either. Those fire hogs and Twylyth might have come in contact with their brethren... And when they realize something's wrong, they might come down here and check.

I'm already against spending the night in this place. Magnus and Jesper agreed. Just for a few hours. We stay here. We collect supplies. Just the basics we need in the travel.

"You look like you're used to it." Seven mused. It was still weird talking to a person who can communicate in your head, telepathetically. Who never talks, who never look at you when she try to open a conversation. Yeah, it was weird.

But I got used to it. Just hearing her voice whisper out of nowhere in my head may not be a good experience at first yet now... It comforts me.

At least I'm not losing her. At least she still has strength to fight this. To survive. I can spend another day not losing anyone who became a big part of my life.

"Well, I grew up tending my own wounds without anyone's help. You know, back when I still live with my Dad, he always train me every morning. He beats me up, whether it is sword fighting, karate, boxing, gun firing simulations, no weapon combat, I always got to school with bad bruises. Either on my ribs or legs. Many times my teacher mistook it as child abuse and called the police. Dad and I got in trouble. We went out of town immediately. From then on, I studied videos on how to do first aid to yourself and other survival skills."

When I finish disinfecting, I carefully place a cloth in her stomach. Hold it in place. Before I detach the bandage and wrap it around her small waist. I try not to be disturb by the gruesome sight of what was under her belly skin. She didn't appear to be disturb on it either. And she painstakingly reverted her eyes, trying to push away the temptation of looking down.

"I'm glad." she said.

"Glad at what?"

"You don't appear to hate your Dad that much."

"What makes you say that?"

"You still smile as you recalled the memory. That event must be something precious."

I sigh. "Not anymore. I only brought it up because you're asking."

"So you hate him?"

"Of course." I immediately answered. I finish patching her stomach. I'm not confident with my self taught skill at first aid. But that should hold her wound in place. And probably avoid further bleeding. She still has cuts and ugly wounds at her legs and arms.

I felt her eyes following me as I slit her pants in the upper leg. She has a deep vertical cut at each side. A few scrapes at the knee. I grit my teeth.

I don't know how many centimeters deep it is but I know it's painful.

"Tell me if it hurts."

"Mmm."

I poured the disinfectant. She didn't squirm nor twitch. Just gasp. Her eyes are tightly shut when I proceed. The muscle in her jaw strained. Her shoulders tensed. Her fingers found it's way to a fist.

I'm beginning to get nervous when she's slowly losing strength in her legs. It was as if her bones turned jelly. Exhausted of life.

"Seven?"

She didn't answer. I quickly finish the patching and gave her shoulder a gentle pat.

"Seven? Seven!"