FULL OBLITERATION (Book #3)

𝕹𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

I'm back in the room they gave me when I first came into the ARC. Carmen is seated in front of me and I'm leaning on the bedframe.

"Why do you need a med pack for?" I point to her lap. "You hurt or sumn?"

"No," she smiles softly, shaking her head. "You're hurt."

"Huh?"

"Your hand."

"Oh..." I look at the crusty red gauze I had wrapped around my palm from when I had impaled it into that steel door.

"Are you gonna give me your hand or not?" Carmen holds her hand out for me.

I place my hand on her knee.

"You know," she unrolls the bandage, "you called me 'Car' just then."

"Hm?"

"Before. Only Jace calls me that."

"Oh, sorry."

"No, don't be. Just an observation. I like it. You heard him say it to me in the safe world after he-"

"He put Jensen in a coma," I finish off for her, chuckling. "Jensen deserved that, one hunnit percent."

"Oh no yeah, I definitely agree," she laughs. "Anyway, did you need to fill me in?"

"What?" I clear my throat.

"You called me over," she reminds me. "Didn't you need to fill me in about something?"

"Oh, right," I take my mind outta the gutter. "There's a way we can fix all this."

"'Fix' what?"

"The dimension s-" I wince.

"Sorry," she cringes, carefully peeling the last sticky layer off. "Oh, wow. How'd you get it to cut that deep?"

I shrug, "dunno."

She presses some new bandages onto it, soaking up the fresh blood. It seems like the last layer of the gauze was a clot for it and now the wound has reopened.

"Um, Dean, do you think it needs stitches?" Carmen starts to panic a lil.

"Yeah nah, I reckon I can deal."

"No," she gets up. "That definitely needs stitches."

"Woah, hey, relax, I'll be fine. I've had much worse if that makes you feel any better."

"That certainly does not make me feel any better."

"Car-"

"Dean-"

"Car-"

"Dean, you need stitches."

"Carmen, I need you-"

She pauses.

"-To sit back down," I finish off. "Please."

"Okay, fine," she sits back down, "but don't blame me if it gets infected."

"That's the first thing Ima do," I smile.

She flicks her doll eyes up at me, the corners of her lips suppressing a small smile. After re-bandaging my hand, she traces her fingers along the multiple hypertrophic scarring on my arm; some from sport, some from the apocalypse, and some I've made myself. I don't remember giving her the permission but seeing how intrigued she is by them, I let her have her cute lil tour.

"You have so many scars..." she touches them.

"Battlescars," I follow her fingers as they go up higher to my bicep, making me tingle a lil. "They're disgusting, I know."