She Will Persist

27

Adira

"Oh my god," I whispered.

I could see bandages winding under Axel's left short sleeve. His hazel eyes looked sedated and drowned of much feeling, which sucked all the most vivid greens and golds from his irises. There was a red and purple mark running straight across his throat, he had a black eye, and he was hunched over like there was pain in his chest. His hair was also a bit shorter, but still scraggly and fluffed up off his forehead and pretty badly uneven.

Quinn had a massive black bruise around his right eye, almost the same color as the actual eye patch he wore over it. Some of the darkest blue parts clouded out from underneath the patch and spilled over onto his nose and cheekbones, staining them yellow like an evening sunset. His right arm was also slung across his body in a thickly layered cast and he was picking at where the strap wrapped over his shoulder. Oh shit. Quinn had a difficult time walking even with two eyes. Now with only one he was probably tripping over shit even more.

Blitz had a hand clutched over his upper ribs and his other on Cal's shoulder for balance while he charted his breathing. His blond mohawk hair was fizzed out all over the place, which heightened my concern since Blitz usually put basic health needs under keeping up his hair.

Next my eyes moved to Lautaro. The Honduran's tanned skin starkly contrasted with the white bandage that was wrapped around his head. The material went across his forehead and wrapped around the back of his head to keep a large plaster in place over his left ear. His hands were basically black they were covered in so much grease and dirt.

Lucky's thin black and spindly hair was drooping over his forehead too, and he stood completely on one leg while raising the other off the ground barely bent at his knee using Lautaro's shoulder for balance.

Then my eyes landed on Harrison, and my breath caught in my throat. All around his face and neck, red cuts littered his skin. Scratches cut across his cheeks, sliced through his eyebrows, zig-zagged across his forehead and a singular deep one slid over the bridge of his nose. His dark eyes shimmered with shame among the marks that would scar his face probably for the rest of his life. His hair was also shorter, no more dark brown waves to spring off his head in tufts. The chain that I could normally see slithering under the neckline of his shirt that held his parent's dog tags was also gone.

Cal at first glance didn't look too bad, just some bruising around his neck, then my eyes fell down to his hands, and I put my own hands over my mouth. On each hand his ring fingers were gone, and on his right hand his pinky was missing too. Little nubs were all that remained just a few centimeters from his knuckles. Cal worked with his hands, he was a doctor --a trained surgeon, actually. If he couldn't use his hands properly what could he do to help all the other boys with their injuries? I knew Cal, all he wants to do was help and if he couldn't do that... he was probably beating himself up over it.

Zach looked for the most part okay, at least physically. He had some cuts and bruises and favored some sides of his body, but definitely not as bashed up as the rest of the boys. But I seriously doubt being Flagg's nephew excluded him from mass torture so I'm sure there was something wrong with him deep beneath his stony persona and hard glare.

But Owen definitely looked the worst of everyone. He tried to balance with his left foot just off the ground and having all his weight on his right. His skin was paler than usual, his blue eyes were bloodshot and there were deep purple circles beneath and around them. His right eye had blood in the whites of it, his blond hair hung over his forehead, and there was fuzz lining his jawline and upper lip. He had bruises crawling up his neck and from the way he was bent over, the cut across his torso had probably been reopened again.