The Void

12

12
First Aid

The space feels like a cocoon, as if the pink bedroom walls themselves were impenetrable. Overhead, the fan blades spin and give the room a steady breath. They are safe here, he thinks. Fallon's song echoes in his mind as he moves from the bedroom to the kitchen. Little Micaela follows him, watching each of his actions with innocent curiosity.

Inside the fridge he finds plenty to eat, and most importantly finds a small cache of bottled water. In a cabinet above the counter, he finds a wide bowl and pulls it. He twists the plastic tops, emptying two bottles in the bowl. The water ripples as he places the bowl into the microwave.

"Umm... why-yah doing that?" she asks, hearing the machine beep and buzz.

"Warming up the water," he replies.

"Oh..."

The microwave hums in the quiet air, the gentle ambiance a welcomed relief from the loneliness surrounding them. He continues moving, searching through kitchen drawers for something useful. One drawer holds several small towels. He shakes them out and throws them over his shoulder.

Sharp tones chime from the microwave as the final second lapses, agitating the stillness like an intrusive alarm. The door pops open, and thin, smokey strings drift off the heated surface. He takes the weighty bowl into his arms with gentle movements. Flicking his head forward, he gestures for Micaela to follow him.

Once in the bedroom, William sets down the bowl at the corner of Fallon's nightstand. He grabs the picture frame and transfers it over to her dresser to make space. Micaela notices something small fall away as he does. She drops to her knees, fishing out a thin plastic object from under the dresser.

The water sloshes as William dips his towel, followed by light trickles as he wrings out the excess. He eyes the big wolf for a second. It rests there on the bed, ears perked and eyes studying his actions. He exhales to steady his nerves, approaching the bed with the damp towel in hand.

The beast growls as he reaches the edge, its ears suddenly fanned like plane's wings. His skin prickles at the warning, and he takes a retreating step. From the side, Micaela climbs onto the bed, shuffling on her knees to soothe the big animal.

"Shh... it's okay, wolfie. We just wanna help," she says, gently scratching behind its ears.

The big wolf whimpers but slowly drags its head forward, resting across Micaela's legs. Its neck stretches out, exposing the wound—a clean cut across its neck, spanning from ear to ear like a bloody crescent moon. Stitches weave within the red, irritated skin, holding together the severed folds with a surgeon's touch.

Little Micaela coddles the wolf's head like a body pillow, her small fingers digging into its fur in gentle massages. It quells the beast's aggression, and it lays there melting in her embrace.

William moves in, clutching the hot towel in his hands. Reaching out, he makes contact. The wolf twitches but accepts his touch, whimpering softly as he pushes the towel against the cut.

"How did this happen? Someone—or something—hurt it?" he questions in his mind, "And then someone stitched him up?"

Time passes as he cleans up the wounded area. The water had grown cold, and stained an orangish-red. He wrings out the towel one last time and lays it across the wolf's neck.

"Stay with him..." he tells Micaela, who nods in response.

From the bathroom, he grabs the bottle of isopropyl alcohol and a roll of bandages, then returns to the bedside. He hovers over the beast once more, gently lifting the towel from its neck. He soaks one end with the alcohol and starts dabbing the length of the wound. It tenses beneath his touch, shuddering at the sting of the alcohol.