Amentia - K.NJ.

Twenty-Seven

"Ow."

Yoongi gave a large sigh, still examining my hurt hand carefully. His thumbs lightly ran over my knuckles slightly, the rubber of the gloves barely touching the cuts. Yoongi's eyebrows were knit together, his mind twisting and turning with questions and answers.

After letting my hand rest for a couple hours without the bandage, Yoongi had come back to me to check on my hand. It wasn't as purple and clammy as it was earlier, but it was still a hideous color and slightly swollen. I could see the edges of some of the bruises turning a yellow-sickish color as the middle of them were still a black-purple color. The cuts were starting to scab, the gelled blood now going away to a hard crust.

It made me sick to look at it.

"You did a serious number to the damn thing," Yoongi murmured, his head turning away from my hand with one of his own hands, going to go grab an antiseptic wipe. He grabbed it, turned back around, and started to dab the cuts gently. I gave a hiss. He ignored it.

"I guess getting angry isn't the best thing in the world," I said through gritted teeth. Each time Yoongi dabbed the wipe on the wounds, I saw more blood soak into them with some hidden yellow pus. Bile raised to my throat. "I think I learned my lesson."

A new voice chimed in. "Yeah, you're not punching a metal wall again."

I turned my head around to see Namjoon standing at the doorway to Yoongi's trailer, him coming in and leaning against the kitchen counter. He placed his hands behind him, staring at me with his brown eyes with a small grin on his face. His lighter brown hair was drying from his shower, a sweatshirt, jeans, and some sneakers on. I glanced at him for a second, then stuck my tongue out.

He gave a small chuckle, shaking his head gently. "Yoongi, tell her your expert opinion because she probably won't listen to me."

"Take your husband's advice," Yoongi mumbled, not taking a look up at me. He went to go grab a new wipe. "We don't need a pregnant lady hurt."

I rolled my eyes with a sigh. Namjoon grinned at me in victory. I gave a glare at him. "I'm fine."

"The doctor says otherwise."

"Once your hand heals, we're sending you to the doctor for an ultrasound," Yoongi said, throwing the wipes down, now done with the major clean up. He grabbed a wrapping bandage then turned back to me to stare straight into my eyes. "We need to make sure your baby is okay."

"I think it's fine," my voice quieted, mindlessly dragging my hand over to my stomach. My heart started to race a bit at the thought of the doctors. "I didn't take any direct hits to my stomach. It can't be that big of a deal."

Yoongi glared at me for a second, then slammed the bandage back down on the table. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest in the process. "Do you really want to argue over this?"

"We could have a midwife just come out here," I said slowly with a shrug, trying to choose my words wisely. "I'd rather one come to the camp than myself risk going to the hospital."

"Why are you being so stubborn about this?" Yoongi asked, starting to sound annoyed. "Going there is good for you and the baby."

"We've had a rough past with the hospital about this stuff," Namjoon spoke up. I turned to see him slightly frowning, starting to look unhappy at where the conversation is going. "Y/N doesn't like hospitals. She's been against them for years."

Yoongi looked like he wanted to ask why I was like that, but he held back on his questions. He thought for a moment, tapping his foot against the floor. Finally, he said, "Alright, I'll try and get a midwife we can trust. It may take awhile, so just be careful during that time period. I think I may know someone who can help with that. I'll call them tonight."