The Hatchling

That Mouth

Waking up again, I looked around for Beck, but he was nowhere to be seen.

More lights were on and I could smell and feel steam from warm water. Glancing around, I saw a door leading to a bathroom cracked ajar.

My leg burned with pain, and the wound ached angrily like I had slept on it strangely. I struggled off the mattress and sat on its edge.

"Beck!" I shouted, hoping he could help with the pain, but no one replied.

I groaned, unwilling to stand, but forced myself to my feet. My leg screamed with agony when I put weight on it and I felt crippled. My feet wavered like they were made of jello and I gripped the bedpost to stabilize myself.

"Beck!" I screamed again, but there was still no reply.

Was he here?

I slowly limped across the cold floor till I reached the wall to lean on for support. Slowly but surely, I made my way to the door and opened it myself.

"Beck?" I asked as I leaned in.

He was standing at the sink with earplugs in and a towel hanging loose off of his hips in a way that made me even more uncomfortable looking at him.

I leaned forward, tapping him cautiously on his shoulder. He jumped and turned around with a toothbrush hanging from his foamy white mouth.

"Emira!" Beck sighed with relief, spitting the paste from his mouth and wiping it's remnants off his chin. "You shouldn't be up!"

"My leg really hurts," I admitted meekly, gripping the towel rack to hold myself straight.

His face grew grave. "Let me see it."

I flushed, my face heating like a furnace. This was a whole piece uniform.

"No!" I hissed. "Are you kidding?"

Beck rolled his eyes at me. "I've seen you for the past week while you've been in your coma. Who do you think has been bathing you and cleaning your wound?"

"You did what?" I screeched, my fingers itching to claw his eyes out.

Beck shrugged, not caring a bit. "It was either me or Aiden, and we decided that, since I was your teacher, I was responsible. Calm yourself. I only saw your lower back and your thigh. I'm not a creep. I barely pulled you out of it just to treat the leg one. I always bathed you with a nurse in here. She gave me sensitive soaps. We don't care about that stuff around here." He gestured for me to turn around. "Swallow your stupid pride for a second and let me help you."

My feet were frozen for a second. Did I really have a choice? It hurt terribly. Too much to bear for much longer.

Turning around, I winced when I felt his fingers grazed the back of my neck and pulled my zipper down to its end. His fingers delicately traced around the bottom of my back where I could still feel the tenderness of the other bite.

"That one's almost completely healed. Now to the leg one. Just shimmy your suit down a few inches."

I swallowed the nervous nausea I had and pulled my suit down just enough to expose my thigh.

"Shit," I heard him cursed. "It's getting infected."

"Why? I've never had a wound last this long," I whispered, panicked by the thought of an infection.

"I'm thinking it's the suit not letting your wound breathe enough. I'll get antibiotics. In the meantime," he paused, handing me his change of clothes on the marble countertop. "Wear this shirt and the boxers. The shorts will help. Don't go anywhere from here. Just sit down and take it slow."