Candy | MouthWashing Game Curly X OC

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭

"Mom! Call an ambulance, immediately, right now!"

"They're on their way."

"He's shaking too much."

"He's trying to throw up, he can't..."

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Ding!

"Curly?"
He opened his eye. No, he couldn't. He had that stupid bandage around his face still. He turned his head in the direction of the voice. He knew it was Beatrice.
"Hey," her voice soothed.
Curly moved his head around to the other side, away from her voice. He didn't know what happened. He knew.
He didn't want to know.
"Withdrawals."
Curly had become addicted to the painkillers given to him on the ship, understandably so, and this was the worst withdrawal yet. It could take 4-10 days for him to recover and he had some slight tremors and headaches, but this one absolutely exhausted him. He could tell he was in a hospital room and not his room.
"My room."
Curly groaned.

"You'll be discharged tonight, but they had to..."
He stopped focusing. She talked about running tests, more meds, and an entire bandage change. He could feel the fresh, stiff, bandages around his body. Curly swallowed hard.

"But good news, I did get a time estimate on your skin grafts. This Sunday, you can start trying to talk," Beatrice tried to comfort him. Curly appreciated it but refused to acknowledge her. He felt like he was brought back to step one. To the bottom of the barrel. Being doted on and then given permission when to speak.

"B..." Curly mumbled.

He heard rustling. She was definitely looking at him with concern. "Please don't-"

"Beebee."
It didn't come out exactly how he wanted, her name was too long and he couldn't form his lips in an 'O' yet.
Beatrice brought a hand to his shoulder.

"Good job," she whispered, "now please wait until Sunday to talk."
Curly squirmed in his bed slightly, elated but also embarrassed. It was humiliating in a way. But he just needed to be patient.

"I can do this."

        ***

The soft bed felt like heaven to his body. He almost wanted to just fall asleep right then and there, completely encased in the warmth and comfort of his bed.
"Friday, we'll resume our normal routine, yeah?" Beatrice said. Curly turned his head in her direction where her voice came from to show he was listening. She continued.
"So tomorrow you're gonna completely rest up here, drink lots of water, then the next morning we can do our usual thing... and tomorrow you will be having some broth."

Curly would've crinkled his nose at the thought of the broth. "Selfish. Greedy."
He immediately nodded, feeling ashamed for even having hesitation towards the meal. He basically lived on nothing during the... events. And now he's turning his nose up to a healthy soup to help keep his strength up while he fights this addiction aftermath.
"Anya used to be your caretaker. You replaced her."
He turned his head away.

"Oh are you sleepy? Probably," Beatrice walked over and adjusted his blankets for him. He felt her gently hand on his shoulder as she added, "sleep well, Curly."
He nodded once. She got up and he heard her walk away, a flick of the light switch, and then the door shut. The silence overwhelmed him.
He didn't remember what events took place that sent him to the hospital. All he remembered was that the shaking left his muscles and skin so sore and tired, he couldn't move while lying in the hospital bed for several minutes. It was like someone tased him several times.

"And you think you deserved treatment? What about Dasuke? Swansae? Anya?"

"Jimmy?"

Curly groaned and moved his head to the side again, as if he was trying to force the thoughts out of his mind.
"You're using all these resources..." He shivered, "you're wasting Beatrice's time. Disgusting."

"B...Beebee," he mumbled, feeling the stiffness on his lips. He still couldn't say her entire name. Beebee would work. She didn't seem to mind.

Curly felt overwhelming guilt, shock, and frustration at himself. The entire event that happened on the Pony Express... he could have stopped it. He should have let Jimmy stay on earth. Maybe Anya would've survived. "Who are you kidding? Everyone would have survived."
Curly let out a small choked up groaned. He couldn't cry, the tears stung too bad on his sensitive skin. And he didn't want to cry, he didn't deserve to cry.
Jimmy always made him feel slightly embarrassed for being 'better'.
Truth was, Curly was just a guy that had the right references and work ethic to get his job. He wasn't special. He was a tad charismatic, but that didn't help in getting the shitty job. He worked up to it. Jimmy didn't even try. It was because of Curly he got the job. Curly felt bad for him and wanted to help him achieve something greater in life.

He didn't know that it would cost the lives and dignity of others. And Curly would be the one to carry all of the guilt while Jimmy simply took the easy way out.
And now Curly lay in a comfortable bed, being doted on, given care, while innocent souls rotted in some cursed ship. "And they'll find you not guilty. When you are guilty."
Curly choked out another silent sob, overwhelmed by his emotions and regret. The evidence was overwhelming. There's too much proof of his blood on the cot, his... skin on plates. And Jimmy having the gun.
He needed to talk about this. He couldn't even talk yet.
He wished Beebee was here. That she would come back in to check on him. Maybe even touch his arm again to show she cared.
He knew he didn't deserve it, but he wanted comfort. He wanted someone to just hold him and bring him out of this nightmare.

Curly held his arms up. He couldn't see but he imagined how they looked like before. Short. Bandaged. They had to cut more skin off because of Jimmy's hack job butchering him.
Curly sobbed again, remembering the unbearable pain. He was tortured by his friend. He was abused by his friend.
And yet Jimmy is guilt free.
"B-B-Beebee," Curly choked out, holding his amputated arms to his forehead and letting his emotions leave his body in sobs and feeling the sting of his salty tears leak into his healing stitches.

"You're alone."