Arrow

Thirty One: Nerve

I released a loud sigh, closing my eyes as I leaned back, hissing out in pain when I leaned on my gunshot wound "Shit" I cursed lowly

Jesse noticed, dumping his bag and weapons down beside the desk, rummaging around inside

"Where do I even start?" He mused, moving toward me with his first-aid kit - the infamous first-aid kit that I now had a very close relationship with.

"None of it is life threatening, I'll be fine" I told him, aiming to get out of as much of his touch as possible, knowing it would test my control again, or there lack of. 

He leaned down in front of me, his eyes on mine, he looked defeated, tired. His face was drawn in, his jaw clenched as I fell into his stare. I wanted to lean into him, comfort him. And there is was again, the desires, the urges. It was these kinds of thoughts and feelings that made me wish I had taken Blaze and fled in the darkness of night away from them on my own. 

"If you think infection and sepsis aren't life threatening, even from the simplest of wounds" He pointed to my lip "then you've been very misinformed"

I shook my head, exhausted

He lifted himself up and moved beside me, close beside me. He kept his gaze ahead, and so did I.

"If what happened in the barn.." He began, his words slow, careful

"Like I said, I shouldn't have"

"You want me to pretend it didn't happened?" he almost sounded disappointed

I didn't answer. I didn't know how to answer. I should have told him yes, but I couldn't.

"I don't know" I mumbled with my head down "everything is just an absolute mess right now, I'm not a reckless person Jesse, and when I'm around you, I let myself feel and I'm reckless" I tried "I can't be like that, look at me" this time we made eye contact "I've never had so many wounds before, I've never been so weak" 

He was silent and then began unbuckling the clips to his first-aid box on a small table in front of us. The silence was painful, I could feel myself suffocating, invisible hands reaching around my throat. After a few torturous seconds, he spoke 

"Here" he handed me a small piece of cloth, moist with liquid "for your lip and your elbows, it'll clean and keep infection at bay" He instructed, his tone changing, dull

I pressed it into my bottom lip, the cut stinging

"Turn around, let me look at your back"

I did as I was told, knowing if I argued, it would turn the air even colder.
I should have gotten used to baring my skin to him. It seemed to be a daily occurrence, as often as the sun rising and setting, yet, no matter how many times it happened, it still made me nervous. I continued to press the cloth into my lip, wiping away the blood, the sting settling.

Jesse's fingers reached for the clothing on my shoulder, pulling them gently down to reveal the gunshot wound I'd met a few days earlier. Rather than slipping off, it peeled away at the dry blood beneath, the sound in itself disgusting. I could feel the intricate hairs on my body being plucked one by one as he attempted to do it slowly, assuming it would not cause as much pain if done quickly. When it came to the band-aid theory, quicker was always better, the slower you went, the longer you suffered, the longer the torture.

I closed my eyes, urging him with my telepathy to hurry up. An agonizing minute later, the crumpled bandage and my clothing were off, ruined. Cold air from the open window rushed against my skin, goose-bumps dancing over my arms and back. I tried not to shiver, from both the weather and Jesse's touch.