Try-Hard, Sin Harder

18. Broken Chains

 "Don't move, you'll make it worse." 

 I glared up at Beta as he slipped the phone into his pocket. Tears welled in my eyes, burning my throat as I fought them back. They stained my cheeks, but I refused to shed anymore. My body trembled, trying to recover from the fear and trauma that had been inflicted on it. I lay on the ground, my knees tucked in and arms cradling my chest and wounded shoulder. Crimson stained my clothing, soaking my unkempt hair as it pooled around me. My blood glistened on my palm, and I couldn't bring myself to look at it. The butchered marks above my heart left me nauseous and giddy. Everything tilted and spun when I shifted my body, making it seem like Beta had an identical twin brother. The pain I felt was excruciating; rupturing from the wound and flowing across my body like violent waves of a sea under a storm. Each tremble and twitch turned the crashing waves into burning flames that engulfed my nervous system. I couldn't think; each breath caused my pain to swell and amplify. What the hell had Jihun done to me? 

 I hadn't noticed that Beta had left the room until he returned with a miniature white box and black bottle in his hands. He placed them on the ground, and crouched down next to me. I flinched away, a few tears slipping as my collar burned. "Relax, Kitten. I'm just going to dress your wound." When I didn't reply, he sighed. "Either you let me do my job, or you die from infection. That knife of his isn't exactly clean, you know." 

 I watched as he opened the white box, and produced a small towel. "You'll have to turn on to your back again. I need to clean the wound," Beta told me. I didn't move, knowing full well how much pain I would feel if I did. He unscrewed the lid of the bottle, before gently placing a hand on my upper arm. "Jihun's stormed off. He won't come back for a while, he never does when he's like this. I know it hurts right now, but this'll all be over soon." 

 Taken aback by his words and touch, I hesitantly rolled on to my back, biting my lower lip as I shifted my upper body. Beta leaned over me, holding the bottle above my collar bone. "This is going to hurt, but you'll have to push through it until I'm done. If the pain is too much, let me know and I can give you a small break. Do you understand, Kitten?" 

 I nodded my head, and he tipped the bottle. 

 At first, the clear liquid was frigid and slick against my clammy skin. Then it burned. I cried out, my back arching as my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I slammed them against the concrete. It were as if he was holding an open flame against my shoulder. I blistered and boiled and charred. More tears slipped down my cheeks as the fire finally faded into a dull throb. "That's it, Kitten. The worst part is over," Beta said softly. 

 I had no voice, but managed to move my head in a sluggish nod. With the towel from the box, he gently patted the lacerations dry; the white fabric turning shades of red with each dab. I hissed at the light pressure, but didn't jerk away. There wasn't enough energy in my body for me to, and I suddenly regretted not eating the food that had been offered to me earlier. Placing a hand on my back, Beta carefully helped me sit up. As if he were reading my thoughts, he reached into his back pocket and produced a granola bar. "Eat this, you'll need your energy." 

 Tentatively, I took the bar from him, unwrapped the packaging, and devoured half of it in one bite. He chuckled to himself, and reached back into the white container. With steady hands, he applied a clear cream to my wounds, before wrapping them with a large gauze. "I'm not medically certified to give you stitches," he told me. "but thankfully, I don't think you'll need them. The cuts aren't terribly deep. However, they will leave scars."

 As I swollowed my last bite, I found my voice again. "Why?" 

 Beta stared at me, obvious confusion splayed across his features. "Why what?"