Life and Death {Enoch O'Connor}

7

With his hand stitched up by the island resident doctor, Enoch retreated back to his room to clean up the shattered glass on the floor. He skipped supper all together, not wanting to face the rest of the peculiars after that whole fiasco. He could already hear Gloria bugging him about it.

Sitting cross legged on his bed, he held his arm out in front of him. It was stiff from the wrap the doctor had bound it in and he was only able to move his finger tips. His hand still stung, sore from all of the action it was put through today.

Although the doctor had advised him not to, Enoch unwrapped his hand to get a look at it. Only the deepest cuts had required stitching, the other ones were promised to heal on their own.
Much like the stitches he'd learned to use on the bodies and puppets he used and created, his skin was pulled together with lines of thread. It was swollen and slightly purple. He reminded himself of Frankenstein's monster from the films he'd seen when he was younger. He was a monster in a way - just not the kind you'd see in the cinema.

Careful not to hurt himself more, he wrapped up his hand again. He hoped it would heal quick. He didn't want to be one handed for that long. It would certainly delay his work.

As he finished tying up his hand, there was a soft knock on his door. A short and almost hesitant 'tap-tap'.

"Come in," he grunted, turning his head towards the door. He half expected to see Gloria, ready to gloat or call him clumsy for hurting himself. Or one of the other curious peculiars, like Millard or Horace, to come interrogate him on what had happened.

But when the door creaked open, Enoch looked down and was surprised to see a little girl all dressed in pink.

"Claire?" He blinked, shifting his body to face her better.

She gave him a shy smile, her hands held behind her back. Enoch noted at how innocent her eyes appeared. So wide and bright with a twinkle in them. It had been awhile since he'd seen a look like that. In the mirror everyday, all he ever saw was his dark ringed eyes, all dull and practically lifeless.

"Are you feeling better?" Claire asked, rocking back and forth on her feet. Her voice was soft and delicate, like a gentle breeze through wind chimes.

The corner of Enoch's lips tweaked upwards, "Yeah, a bit."

Claire smiled a bit more, coming out of her shell ever so slightly. She took a few steps forward into his room.

"I got this for you," She said, "to help you get better." From behind her back, she pulled out a flower - pink of course. Fresh picked and in full bloom, it couldn't have been any more vibrant.

This time, Enoch smiled for real, something he wasn't used to, "Thank you so much, Claire." He accepted the flower, holding it with his good hand. "I'm starting to feel better already."

That really made her smile and she let out a cheerful giggle. Enoch felt a little bit warmer inside.

"That's awfully kind of you, Claire dear."

Enoch jumped at the sound of Miss Peregrine's voice. He hadn't even noticed her at the door or knew how long she'd been standing there.

Claire played with one of her golden curls, still a bit timid around them all. It had only been a week since her arrival. No one except the headmistress even knew the young girl's peculiarity.

"Why don't you join the other children downstairs. I'd like to have a word with Enoch." Miss Peregrine said.

Clair nodded, skipping off to find the others, her pink skirt flouncing around her.