Lisette

Chapter 1 ~ Some Form of Introduction

"Judas, God! Leave off, why don't you? Put me down!"

"Not in your present state. From what I can see, your face needs stitches, and I dread to think what sort of state the rest of you is in."

"What are you, a doctor?"

"Not yet, but he hopes to be. We both do." A second voice responded to me, also male. "Now stop struggling. You're only going to make things worse."

The whole of the right hand side of my face was seething in pain, and someone was clamping a cloth down onto it. There was blood in my right eye, and my left eye didn't seem to want to open. As for the rest of me, my ribs were burning, and it hurt to breathe. The last thing I needed was for my circumstances to get any worse, but in my present situation, I wasn't sure that was possible. I heard a door open, and felt them carry me up some stairs. Along a corridor, and there was the sound of another door being unlocked and opened. I was lowered onto a bed.

"You have brandy?" 

It was the first voice again, and another, different voice responded: "Here."

There was the sound of a match being struck, and I could feel one of the three cleaning the wound on the side of my face. The brandy the cloth had been soaked in stung badly, but at least I could open one eye again, and see something of the three men. 

They were all young - around my age. None of them could have been more than mid twenties. One was examining the wound, his face a picture of concern. He had kind, brown eyes, and brown hair. Another was holding a curved needle in the flame of a candle on the bedside table - he had the darkest hair of the three. The third was pouring brandy into a glass, though I couldn't see much of him beyond his blond hair. 

"This cut is going to need sewing together," said the one examining my face. "It's going to hurt, whatever we do, but the brandy should lessen the pain somewhat. I'll be as quick as I can, and have the other two hold you down, so you don't struggle too much. Then we'll have a look at the rest of you, and see if there's anything else that can be done to help."

I took the offered brandy, and saw the one with the needle threading it with a fine thread. The brandy burned my throat, but that was the least of my pain. The one who had been examining my face directed the other two to hold me still. The blond one - the one who had poured the brandy - held down my shoulders, while the one who had threaded the needle held my face still. 

I hadn't thought the pain could get worse, but it did as the first stitches went in. The world went dark, and I felt no more.

*

I had no idea how much time had passed when I regained consciousness. I could hear the three men talking in low voices, and the crackle of a fire. I opened my right eye, and tried to look about me. Dusk seemed to be drawing on: the room was darker than it had been when I was last awake. I could only see a little of the room from where I lay. There was a desk in front of a window on my left, with books and papers piled on it. To my right, a bare wall with a door, and on the floor an old, dusty rug. The three men were stood around the fire, at the foot of the bed.

I tried sitting up, pushing myself up with my arms, but in doing so the dull pain in my ribs turned to burning stabs. The men must have noticed my movement - they turned, and the one who was talking, and who stitched my face up earlier hurried over.

"You're awake?"

"Of course! What does it look like?" I snapped. I wouldn't normally have been so harsh, especially to those who had shown me kindness, but it was difficult to be anything but terse with such pain. Even talking hurt.