Breaking and Entering

Chapter 2

Holly bolted to the kitchen and, rummaging through drawers, grabbed the first towel she could find. Running back to Gail, she grabbed the other woman's injured hand and quickly assessed the wound. The cut was on the side of her right hand, and it appeared to be quite deep. With the towel, Holly wiped up some of the blood, the stark contrast of the crimson red on pale white momentarily distracting her. Shaking herself out it, she then put pressure on the gash in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

"Ok, it's ok... uh," Holly's brow furrowed at the woman before her, "I—I don't actually know your name."

"Gail. Gail Peck."

The two women locked eyes for a moment, something passing between them that neither one was quite sure of.

"Ok, Gail, it's going to be fine." Holly turned her attention back to the hand cradled in her own.

"Awesome. This is just great. OW!" Gail hissed and ripped her hand away.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Holly quickly apologized. She held out the towel again. Gail looked at the cloth distrustfully. "Please?" Holly requested.

Gail slowly placed her injured hand back in Holly's, and her neighbor resumed putting pressure on the cut.

"As soon as this stops bleeding, I'm taking you to the hospital." Holly peeked under the towel to check the wound. It was still bleeding, but the blood flow had slowed.

"No." Gail shook her head adamantly. "No hospitals."

"Gail, this needs stitches," Holly stressed, raising a stern eyebrow and setting her jaw.

"Holly, please," Gail begged, "Sick people, they go to hospitals and get their germs everywhere. This—this is just a small cut. It'll scab over." She tried to smile reassuringly, but it ended up being a grimace.

"This wound is deep, and I'm not entirely convinced there isn't glass in there. It needs to be cleaned and stitched."

"So we just run it under some water and put some soap on it and—"

"No," Holly asserted.

"But—"

"No," Holly maintained more forcefully.

"Then I guess I'm just going to bleed out and die," Gail stated, shrugging.

"You are not going to die." Holly shook her head, chuckling a bit at the stubbornness of her neighbor. Then a thought occurred to her. "Hold this, and don't move."

She placed Gail's left hand over the towel, showing her where to put the pressure, and started walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Gail asked, panicking slightly.

"If you won't let me take you to the hospital, I'm going to get my stuff so I can clean your wound. Wouldn't want my new friend dying from an infection."

As soon as she was out the door, Gail was beaming. Holly had called her a friend. She didn't know why, but it made her incredibly happy. Well that, and the fact that Holly was taking care of her. But Gail wasn't about to admit that she needed the other woman's help.

Holly was back within a minute, a red bag in tow.

"How is a lunchbox going to help clean my war wound?"

"It's not a lunchbox," Holly stated, setting the bag down and riffling through it. "And I could be wrong," she laughed, "But I don't think that counts as a 'war wound'."

"You are wrong. It's definitely a war wound."

"I'm never wrong," Holly cocked an eyebrow and grinned lopsidedly up at the injured woman.

Gail was stunned into silence. This woman was something else.