Candy | MouthWashing Game Curly X OC

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦

Sorry for not updating! I gave birth :) but now Im back

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"So, you're insinuating that he did indeed rape her?"

"I'm not insinuating. I'm accusing. Confirming."

"And that would explain-"

"Yes."

"Is there any detail or details that you've left out of this story?"

"No."

"This is all of the truth?"

"Yes."

The detective closed the notebook and stood up, stuffing it into the back of his pants pocket. Curly watched him adjust his hat and then walk to the door. "Thank you for this information. You're going to receive some paperwork we need you to fill out and then some other things from the government."

Curly just nodded. The interview drained him, made him feel like he was reliving it. But he had to do it, it was just the curse of finishing this.
He felt soft hands on his shoulders; Beebee. She was comforting him quietly. He glanced to the dresser that had the large mirror. He studied his face.
Curly's transplant had healed nicely, minus his eye socket looking empty without a glass eye and the scarring causing some texture disfigurement, he didn't look so "terrifying" as he thought.
His view glanced to his nurse. She had her hair down, wearing light blue scrubs, and a light pink long sleeve shirt underneath. Beebee's brown eyes were focused on the table in front of them. She was thinking.
He felt differently about her.

It wasn't a racing heart or butterflies in  stomach. It was something quieter—almost like a soft pull, something that tugged at him without ever quite being defined. Maybe it was just familiarity, he thought. Maybe Curly was just used to being around her. But then again, why did his thoughts linger on her even when she wasn't around?
Perhaps he was overthinking too much about it.
Back to the mirror.
Curly traced the lines of his face, the jagged scars that marred his skin, the unevenness that no amount of time or effort seemed to smooth out. It was as if his reflection mocked him, a reminder of everything he wasn't, or at least everything he felt he wasn't. He had another schedule for a fully complete nose transplant after the rest of his face had healed from the basic surgery. Still... he compared.

"You did good," she encouraged him, giving his arms a squeeze, "I ordered the basic eye kit for you... it'll be here soon."
Curly nodded.
Beebee walked over to the table and sat across from him.

"I don't even deserve to be your friend," he thought as she gave him a sweet smile.
He'd hurt people, made decisions he regretted, and sometimes, the guilt felt like a chain around his chest, suffocating him.

"Let's have some lunch, okay?" She encouraged, seemingly trying to distract him.

"What's on the menu today?" Curly tried to at least engage in her efforts. Beebee giggled, music to his ears, and stood up.

"Me and you are going to a small café across the facility and have a nice little exposure therapy session," she said. Curly would've curled his nose if he could. She must've noticed the distain in his eye.
"It's important you learn to be in the public and this will make it less stressful."

"What will?"

"Being with me," Beebee said, "so you can get used to going out, seeing others, going on dates or food trips. It's good to reintroduce you to the public."
His heart sort of deflated, like this was just a mission for her.
Curly couldn't decide if he wanted it to be more than work or if he didn't deserve that. Perhaps he was comparing wanting with deserving.
Now he was confusing himself...