Candy | MouthWashing Game Curly X OC

𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘴

Thank you to the user who corrected me on Curly's (possible) real name, for some reason the sources I looked at were ASSCHEEKS.
Anyways, nothing changed only future posts and the past correction:). Thank you.

"That seems awfully scary for you to deal with. You're just a young girl!" Miranda said in surprise, putting jello on separate plates and trays. Tina leaned against the counter nearby and chewed on a toothpick.

"Bea is like 30," she said.
I scrunched my nose and placed two cubes of jello on a small plate.

"I'm 25," I corrected, "and yes the intense withdrawal episode was scary, but the paramedics arrived just in time and helped him." I put a small bowl on the metal tray and scooped the broth to place in it. I was making Curly's plate.

"25, 30, 45... they're all the same," Tina spit a piece of the toothpick out in the sink. Miranda gave her a disapproving look, her caramel colored hands quickly putting together each resident's plate with their preferred amounts. She knew things by heart and remembered stuff quickly.
"I'm just glad he's okay," Miranda added, placing a small bowl of left over chicken soup for a particularly picky resident. "It can't be easy going through everything he is."

I nodded in agreement and sighed, "he was on oxycodone for awhile and then having to switch over to paracetamol? Two very different drugs with very different levels of help."
Paracetamol, or Tylonel, did not have the healing or numbing effect that oxy did. And oxy was extremely addictive.
Eventually, he would've had half withdrawals from that and from no Tylonel. Curly's body must be exhausted.

"Oh I don't even want to think about that," Miranda waved her hand in the air and then handed two trays to Tina to drop off to her assigned patients.

"I can't wait to see Lynn's face when I bring her this. It's her favorite," she said with a smile. I watched her walk out and then heard Miranda click her tongue.

"Disapprove?" I asked with amusement. She gave a small chuckle.
"No, not particularly, she loves these people here. Just a bit of an air head," she said.
I agreed with a nod and then grabbed the silicone straw for Curly's water and a soft baby spoon to feed him.

"Is your mama going to be in soon?"

I paused and thought. "She had to run to the bank this morning, she should be back in an hour," I informed her. Miranda gave a small 'oh' and thanked me before focusing back on her duties of rationing the meal properly. I licked my lips nervously and placed the spoon in the hot broth and started mashing and stirring to release some steam so it's not too hot for him.
I wondered what exactly happened on that ship. Why was he so injured but others weren't? They had severe wounds or something directly killing them, and he was absolutely destroyed. His limbs hacked at, his face wiped away...
I looked down and saw the soup had cooled significantly and placed the spoon in the bowl then grabbed the tray. I walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs, my thoughts still spiraling.

I stopped at his door and opened it slowly. Curly was limp in his bed and seemed peaceful. I watched his slow and steady breathing as I turned on the light and walked in. He still laid still. Stifling a yawn, I placed his tray down on his bedside table and sat on the side of the bed. I gently laid my hand on his chest. "Curly?"
He stirred. I watched his face look in my direction. His skin looked a lot better but a little irritated from the other day's incident. He was healing nicely.
"I got you some broth," I said. Curly whimpered but lifted himself up to a straighter position. I smiled slightly and took the spoon to feed him. It was his first meal without a straw to help strengthen his lips to form that 'O' shape so he could eventually speak properly.

He opened up and sipped. "Good job," I praised, "you're doing great. These are baby steps you're taking and doing a really good job at it!"
Curly smiled slightly. It made me happy. Seeing a patient thrive felt so good, especially one that had seemed hopeless and still seemed hopeless at times.
"Possible murderer too."
I frowned at my own thoughts and got another spoonful of broth to slowly bring to his lips.  I kept silent for a few minutes, just focusing on him eating.
Curly kept his lips shut at one point and lifted his arm to motion up and down.
I blinked.

"A drink?" I said. He nodded. I lifted the straw to his mouth and let him sip it, watching him drink quite a bit which was good for his water intake. "Are you feeling less shaken up today?" I asked, not trying to specifically say that he was addicted to those drugs. Curly hesitated but nodded. I lifted a few more spoonfuls of broth to his lips, finishing off the meal. I placed the empty bowl on the tray nearby and still stayed seated on the bed.
"I'm glad you're okay," I said. The questions burned in me. I wanted to ask so many things. But I couldn't. I had to focus on his recovery. And frankly, I didn't even know if I, legally, was allowed to ask him things.

Curly moved his head in my direction. Although I couldn't see his eye, his lips were set in a way... he was looking at me with patience and affection. He probably knew what I wanted to ask. Wanted to know. And he seemed okay.
But that doesn't mean I'll just crowd him with questions. I spoke my mind, "I'm not going to make you answer anything you don't want to. Ever," I promised.
Curly's arm moved closer and rested against my knee.

"B-Beebee."
I looked down and placed my hand on his stump, rubbing it with my thumb very gently. "That's me," I encouraged, "only a couple days and you can talk more... and soon be able to see everyday," I whispered.
He smiled weakly.

This poor man. What has he seen?