Who I am

The Boyfriend Thing

Darkness. That's what greets me when I awake. 6:30. My eyes start to flutter closed, I remember it's Monday. My eyes snap open and I spring from my bed. I trip over my boots and fall flat on my face. I bring my arms up and avoid hitting my nose. "Ow." I say to myself. I push up and turn on a lamp. I rummage in my closet and pull out two towels, one for my hair, and one for my body. I snag some clothes and lock the door to my bathroom door.

I turn on the water and don't bother to turn it down. I let the water wash over myself. I take off my bandages and see that they still have a long way to heal, they haven't even scabbed over. Nonetheless, I take off all the bandages, promising that I'd put more on. Either way, it's time to put new ones on. I let the water wash over them. It stings for a little bit, but then I get over it. I replay yesterday's events and think that it's all a dream, but I know it's not.

I put my vanilla scented shampoo in and wash off the small amount blood that is still matted in my hair. I then smooth out my cracked hair with the vanilla conditioner I have. I snag my body wash and put a dab on my hand. I lightly touch my scrape. I draw in a sharp intake of breath. It stings. Not long after, the pain ebbs away. I quickly slather myself with the wash. I wash my face, and take care not to reopen my scratches.

I hop out of the shower and dry off, again, making sure not to reopen any wounds. I put on my gear and walk out, steam billowing behind me. A knock raps at my door. "Come in." I call, shuffling for my homework. A blonde head peeks in.

"Hey you." Jace calls. I nod in his direction and keep shuffling for socks, having found my homework. I pull them onto my feet. I brush the scrape on my arm. I wince.

"You ok?" He asks. Then he sees that I unwrapped my arm and bandages. "Why did you take off your bandages?" He sits next to me and gingerly turns my arms around in his hands.

"It was time to change them. So I took them off." I reply.

"Come on, let's get them rewrapped." I sling my backpack over my shoulder. I give a small cry.

"What?" He comes over.

"My shoulder. I slung my backpack over it, and I guess I had something there." I say. He rolls his eyes and takes my backpack from me and sets it on the ground.

"Yeah. Your scratch on your arm? That stretches from your shoulder to your wrist." He gives me a concerned look.

"How did I not notice that when I showered?" I mutter to myself.

"All right. Let's go." He carries my backpack to the infirmary, where I go and sit down. Absently, it always is the same one. The one where I was when I first came here. He comes back with the washcloth again. I groan. "Not again." I get a ghost of a smile from him.

"It's just water." He states. I move my sleeve off from my shoulder.

I move my hand off of the skin and see blood covering my fingers. "Damn." I mutter. He dabs my shoulder with the washcloth. It wasn't rough, it was gentle, light and cool on my skin. It comes away red as well.

"Damn." He mutters as well. We walks off and throws the one in the sink, and picks up another. I can smell it as it comes to me.

I tip my head back in annoyance. I hold my breath as he brings the putrid smelling washcloth to my arm and dabs it along the length of the not yet scabbed gash. I wince when it first touches my skin, but again it feels cool against my warm skin. He comes back with gauze now and gingerly applies it to my shoulder, the crook of my elbow, and wrist, where I'm most likely to do something to. He quickly treats the other two.

"Thanks." I say, looking into the gold I find comfort in. He smiles and pulls me to my feet. I go to grab my backpack but a hand shoots out and grabs it for me. He slings it over my shoulder as I open my mouth to protest. He gives me a teasing, stern look and I close my mouth. "Thanks." I mutter again. We walk down to the kitchen to see the others already there.