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003. words of wisdom
BLOOD IS JUST BLOOD, Maxine has grown accustomed to it. If anything the fact that, at that very moment, it's pouring profusely down her left forearm in thick red rivulets doesn't scare her, it reminds her of her life, that her heart is still beating. That being said, whilst it is a memento of her suffering, it ought to stay within her body. Now it appears to be the most unsightly thing, letting people know of the irreparable damage flowing in her veins, too much exposure of it will kill her.
Under the fluorescent lights of the local pharmacy, Maxine stares at the slice on her arm, the scarlet ribbons fading to clear as she runs it under the tap. Spread out like a tangle of watery vines, she winces as she rubs her thumb over it, ridding her skin of any more excess blood. She watches the water run, it surges out like static reverberating in her brain, serving as a background melody, filling her head with thoughts other than how much it hurts.
The blood keeps pouring.
For a second she thinks it's not going to stop. That the blood will keep running and running down her arm, perhaps draining her completely until she withers away in the dingy pharmacy bathroom.
What if there's something else lurking in her flesh, polluting her veins so that no matter how much she tries, one day her body will never be able to heal itself again? Perhaps it would explain how she's felt like an outsider her whole life, like she's just watching the world around kick into motion without her.
The door to the bathroom clicks open, Max looks up from her arm still under the water and flicks the faucet off. Too unpresentable to show their faces at their homes, both of them had stopped at the first store with a bathroom to attempt to clean themselves up while the rest of north Denver stirs awake. It has been a few minutes since she'd called Finney on the payphone, telling him he'd have to be the one to pick up Gwen from her sleepover, and then dashed past the cashier straight to the toilet so as to not raise any questions.
His footsteps fall heavy on the linoleum floors. Tiny runaway droplets from the faucet tap on the sink as she goes still and gazes at him expectantly. He doesn't say anything for a second. In the soft patter of the sink and under the somewhat green light, she is vaguely aware of the blood no longer resurfacing from the cut.
Vance moves first, tossing her a roll of bandages.
Catching them with her right hand, she mutters a haste thank you before turning and reaching for the tissue dispenser.
"Wait," Vance says, staring at her.
Maxine raises her brows and holds her arms up, "What?"
