Fallen (editing)

Chapter 6

I look at where the demoness was.
Dimitrio flies onto my shoulder, pulling at my hair.
"We need to leave."
I nod. I push through the screaming crowds, racing out of the door.
I run across the road, leaning against the brick wall of the alleyway.
Dimitrio perches on the edge of the dumpster.
"What happened?"
I shrug. "Beats me. I thought you'd know."
Dimitrio rubs his beak. "What happened before......... That."
He gestures to my massive, ripped body. And the horns. Can't forget the horns.
I snap my fingers. "The humans. They were screaming and panicking. I just kinda..... Pulled at it? It was like that's what I was supposed to do. Make any sense?"
Dimitrio bobs his head. "Makes sense. They were in terror and stuff, right? You absorbed that energy.
Question is, how long will it last?"
I flex my arm. "I can feel some of it fading now. Maybe it lasts for a few minutes?"
Dimitrio stays silent for a moment, rubbing his beak.
"What about your foot?"
I look at him, confused. "What?"
"Your foot. Y'know that thing on the end of your leg...... Ring any bells?"
I roll my eyes. "What about it?"
"Didn't you kick that demoness assassin thing?"
I nod slowly. "Yeah."
"Does your foot hurt? Didn't something crack? And what about your chest?"
I look at my chest. Cuts on it are still angry red and bleeding. I look at my foot.
I wince. It's bent at a weird angle, almost backward.
"It stings. But it doesn't hurt." I tilt my head. "Does that make sense?"
Dimitrio flaps his wings, muttering to himself. "I wonder why...... Well, let's get back to the apartment."
I trudge up the stairs, my foot throbbing strangely. Blood seeps from my shirt, dripping onto the stairs.
I push the door open. Pops sits at the table, flipping through a book.
He looks up as we walk in, hobbling up to us immediately.
"Son! What happened?"
I rub my head. "It was a fight. No big deal."
He sighs, pulling on my arm. "Let's get you cleaned up."
Cleaned up?
I stare at him, dumbfounded. Dimitrio flies ahead, perched onto Pop's shoulder.
Father never offered to "clean me up." He always told me to suck it up. He told me he was busy. He told me it wasn't a big deal.
I roll my eyes. Yeah, because when your son has his freaking chest cut up, that's not important. I mean that isn't a big deal, right? Makes total sense.
I shake my head and follow the other two into the bathroom.
Pops dogs through a box with a red plus sign on it. I bend my neck, peering at what it says. First Aid Kit.
Pops pulls out a tube and gestures for me to pull off my shirt. Or what's left of it.
I lift it off and he cleans the cuts with a wet towel.
It burns for a moment then soothes the wounds. The blood rubs off, showing shallow cuts.
Dimitrio looks them over, standing on the sink's edge.
"They should heal quickly. Do they hurt?"
I nod slightly. "Yeah, kinda."
He rubs his beak, tapping his claw. "Hmmmmm....."
Pops finishes cleaning my chest and bends down onto the toilet seat to look at my foot. He winces.
He grips it in his hands, bending it the other way.
I grit my teeth and look away.
It cracks and he wraps tight gauze around it.
Dimitrio caws suddenly. "I think I know why."
"What?"
"You can't be killed here, I think. You can still get hurt, but you're gonna heal quickly. I don't think you can actually be killed unless something from back home is what kills you."
I turn my foot. Nothing but a little twinge.
"I think you're right."
Dimitrio puffs out his chest. "Of course I am."
I grin, rolling my eyes. "Of course."