Starchild

Personal Magic Doctor

The snacks in the kitchen don't make me feel better when the burn mark on my arm starts hurting again. The chocolate does not work, and the same thing happens with the cookies, juice, bread, and the oranges (which were a whole task to open with just one hand).

I try pouring water on the wound, straight from the sink, but it feels cold against it and the feeling makes me move my arm away. It's not going to work.

—There you are. —

Strange, at the door with his normal clothing and a small red box in his hand, says, entering and placing the object on the table. He grabs a chair and moves it back, pointing at it.

—Sit. —

Having no comment to direct at him, I sit on the chair, and he sits right in front of me. He opens the box and starts bringing items out - from small bottles, and something cotton-like, to transparent blue gloves which he puts on his hands.

—I haven't practiced as a doctor for about a year, but everything related to medicine just became a part of me, you know? —he opens one of the bottles, and holds my left wrist, inspecting my arm, —Is it around here? —

I nod. —Do you actually not see it? —

—Nope. It might be more like a spiritual wound, or whatever that could mean. —he shakes his head, —I don't know if I can properly treat it like this. —

Lucky him. It's not a nice sight. It covers almost half of my forearm and it still looks pretty red. Maybe I'm not used to being hurt. Maybe it's a very simple wound. Still, when the wind blows it sends goosebumps through my spine and just looking at it makes me feel like my entire body is in the same state. I want him to treat it.

I need him to see it through my eyes. —Let me show you. —

He looks at me for a second, in doubt. Then, he nods with a sigh, giving in. —Okay. Get in my head and show me but don't do anything else. —

I put my hand out, reaching for his temple. Before touching it, though, I stop, and he nods again as reassurance. I place two fingers against his temple and my thumb against his forehead, and reach into his mind, slightly changing what he can see.

—Oh. —he murmurs, finally noticing the burn mark, —It's extensive, but it's just a first degree burn. It could've been worse. —

He grabs the bottle again and enters his fingers in it, taking a bit of what looks like a transparent cream. —This is an ointment. It's natural. —he starts applying it on the wound. It feels cold, but I bite my words back. —It's going to protect and hydrate the damaged skin, it'll make sure there are no infections, and it will stop some of your pain. It should at least work as a placebo. —

I nod. —You're explaining too much, just say it's magic. —

—I didn't spend my twenties in college to just call it magic. —he reaches for the cotton tire, —This is a gauze. It also protects the damaged skin. Try not to get it wet. —now, since the wound is a little more numb, he slowly wraps it around my forearm. —We're going to change this daily, understand? You'll look for me at this same time for the days it takes for your wound to heal. It's probably going to be a few days. —

He grabs tape from the box and secures the gauze in place.

—Do you want a painkiller? —he asks,

A human painkiller? —Would it even work? —

He shrugs. —We don't lose anything by trying. —

From one of the bigger bottles, he takes out a small blue pill, and puts it in my good hand. It has tiny round things inside. It looks funny.