The Devil's Gift/The Bloody Handed

1

Once we got back to Eddie's trailer, I immediately feel a wave of PTSD. I look around frantically and try to forget what has happened here in the alternate dimension.

Eddie looks back at me, concern written in his features. "I know. It took me a minute as well to adjust." He points to the door way. "I ran out of here last with what I thought was your.. dead body. So I guess you could imagine how long that took me." I nod. "Anyways. Follow me, you know the place." He walks back to his room. I look around and see papers, magazines, ashtrays, wrappers, and empty to quarter full bottles scattered every where. It was truly a mess. But could I blame someone for that? "I know, it's a mess. The living room has been off limits to me. It's my uncle's space. For whenever he decides to drop in."

"He knows everything?" I ask. Eddie shakes his head.

"No, he doesn't. That's why he won't talk to me. He barely ever comes here anymore. I'm sure he just drinks at bars and sleep in motels or his car. Goes to work the next night like nothing happened." Eddie rips open his drawer and starts to toss clothes. He tosses a shirt at me. "Will that work?" I hold it out. It was a huge black Iron Maiden shirt.

"Yeah, it will. Thank you-" he tosses another at me.

"Or that one?" He tosses another. "Or that one?" Then another. "Or, maybe.. this one!" Then another. I start to laugh as I get bombarded with shirts. I start to pluck them one by one and chuck them back at him. He finally stops, and heads over to me, smiling. "Shower is right there to the right. Warm is left cold is right." He hands me a pair of red boxers.

"Alright, thanks." I say timidly. Showering in Eddie Munson's house.. who would have guessed. I walk into the small bathroom. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't pristine. The wooden floors were starting to peel and come up. The sink was small and looked like it had a hard time draining. There was a hair brush in the counter filled with, what I presumed, was no one but Eddie's hair. It had a stand up shower with no tub, and the mirrors on the walls were clouded. I reach over and pull the nob, turning it slightly to the right.

I pull up my hospital gown over my head, feeling the stitches stretch on my side. They should be dissolving here soon.. I touch them, feeling the raised scars underneath. I turn my back and see scratch marks that would more than likely go away. I finally touch the symbol I engraved in myself. I sigh as I trace my finger tips over it. It was raised and tender to the touch. I still remember how Vecna's voice sounded. What he said to me. And how I should say it to the others.. he could have- and probably was- lying. My parents would have told me. Mom would have told me.

I sigh as I look down at myself. I looked like a total freak. I massage my neck with my hands, feeling a tenderness in the sides. I must have had some sort of ligature marks on my neck because I could feel the previous bruising.

I take my hair out of the braid it was in and slip my underwear off, stepping into the steaming and slightly warm shower. I let the beads of water fall down my body, feeling the pure bliss of what cleanliness felt like. All of a sudden, my side starts to sting as if I was being burned. I look down. The symbol scar I had. It was still too fresh and not used to water exposure yet. I hiss as I put my hand over it. I slowly return to the water and wet down my hair, wincing at the pain. It felt nice to be able to clean myself of any debris that was on me. Wash off any impurities I've burdened myself with these last two months. And every every encounter with it.. I wish it was that feasible.

I run my hands through my hair and squeeze out excess water. I reach and turn the water off and step out towards the cupboard. I pull it open and grab a white towel, immediately wrapping it around my body. I look at my blurred face in the mirror. It was how I felt. Lost and clouded. I felt as if I lost a part of myself, like my identity. The old Clary was long done for.

I wipe my hand across the glass and reveal my sunken features. My eyes had dark circles even after being in a coma for a month. My freckles littered my face as they usually do in the summer. I had a small cut right above my lip just waiting to heal. I take my hands and stretch my face to the sides. It felt nice to finally relax for once.

I throw on the boxers Eddie gave me which, to no surprise, was a little big. I throw the shirt on over and pull my hair out from underneath letting it drench the shirt. I exit the bathroom and hear Metallica softly playing. I walk back to Eddie's room and am met with a huge cloud of smoke and a putrid odor. He was laying on his bed, arm behind his head, eyes closed, and his head bobbing to the music. As soon as he takes notice of me, he coughs and bangs on his chest immediately putting the join in the ashtray.

"Oh my God Eddie, really?" I cough as I squint and wave away smoke.

"Sorry. Habit." I continue to wave the smoke away as I sit on the edge of the bed. I look at him and shake my head, laughing. "What else and I supposed to do to pass time?!" I shrug my shoulders. "Unless.. you wanna try?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Immediately, no." I hold a hand up. "I'm fine, believe me."

"Alright.. you're missing out.. just saying. It usually comes with a price but I'm giving you a 99.9% discount." He says crossing his arms.

"And what's the .1% I have to pay?"

"To try it!" He picks it up and holds it out to me. A part of me always wanted to at least try it once before I completely knocked it out of the to do list  of life goals. But I did know smoking a doobie with Eddie Munson was not one. You live once anyways.

I pick up the see through wrap, seeing green and brown buds inside. I slowly put it to my lips and slightly suck in. It tasted just like ass- a Skunk's ass if you ask me. I immediately cough it out, pounding on my chest. I let it go too far down the wind pipe. Eddie starts to laugh as he takes an even bigger hit, finally rubbing the joint out in the ash tray.

"Not your thing I'm guessing?" He looks at me amused.

"Not at all." I grin. He pats the seat next to him and I immediately join him. I wouldn't have done this weeks ago, but I felt immediately at ease with Eddie Munson. And I've learned how to embrace it.

I flop my head onto his squishy pillow and look up at the stained ceiling, sighing. "Thank you, Munson. For everything. Saving me, being here for me." I look over at him.

"Oh- yeah, always. Anytime. Any day.. anywhere." I roll my eyes at his dragged on sentence. Metallica's Nothing Else Matters starts to play. One of my favorites. I hear Eddie softly humming to the song in a low tone; he genuinely had a good voice, but I never heard it yet. It was very suitable for him. I turn on my side and scoot closer to Eddie. He looks down at me, lifting his arm up as I place my head onto his chest. His arm slowly goes down, and I feel his breathing tense a little.

"Not my fault you're comfier then the pillow." I say jokingly. I feel his chest rise and lower with laughter.

And with that, I was asleep in a room filled with weed smoke and a boy who saved my life.