He looked at his visitor with concern. He finally noticed the torn and not too clean gray hoodie he was wearing. The thin worn jeans and battered sneakers. The grease in his hair.
He didn’t look like somebody who was doing well in life and around here that rarely involved living life on the right side of the law. Sam ran a bar in a rough part of the city. He knew enough to know his guest wouldn’t want the police involved.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
The stranger paused for a moment before giving a tiny nod.
Sam swore. “I’m going to go get the first aid kit, alright?”
Blue eyes filled with fear and uncertainty, and the stranger twined his fingers into Sam’s shirt as if terrified of letting him go.
“It’s just behind the bar. I’ll be ten steps away and you’ll be able to see me the whole time, okay?”
The young man bit his bottom lip anxiously, but he withdrew his fingers from Sam’s shirt.
Sam dashed around the bar, grabbed the kit, and hurried back. It was almost like he didn’t want to be separated either.
He placed the first aid kit on the bar beside his guest and unzipped it. The young man stared at him intently. Sam tried a warm smile but didn’t get one in return. He didn’t mind. The poor young man had obviously been through a lot.
He picked up the antiseptic and a gauze. As gently as he could, he picked up one of the young man’s wrists and poured some antiseptic on it. The man winced but didn’t pull away.
“What’s your name?” asked Sam, as a distraction. He didn’t think he would get an answer.
“Tally.” The boy spoke so softly, Sam only just heard him. Happiness fluttered through his stomach. He was delighted Tally had spoken to him.
He beamed back at the young man. “Hi Tally, nice to meet you. My name is Sam.”
Tally’s blue eyes filled with a vivid pain as if Sam had just informed him that the world was ending rather than merely giving his name. The look of hurt was so intense, Sam felt an echo of the pain in his own chest and had to replay his words in his mind to check he had said what he thought he had said.
He was pretty sure he had only introduced himself. Why then did Tally look so devastated?
“Sam.” said Tally softly, as if trying out the sound. He looked deep into Sam’s eyes and gave the faintest of smiles. “It suits you.”
“Thanks.” beamed Sam. It felt like the best compliment he had ever received.
He dazedly pulled himself away from Tally’s intense gaze and got back to work cleaning the gouges on his wrist.
“Where else are you hurt?” Sam asked, suddenly remembering that he should check to see if any of the other injuries were worse. He was a rubbish first aider.
For an answer, Tally whipped off his hoodie and then his plain white tee shirt. Sam gasped in horror. His pale skin was covered in bloody cuts. Someone had carved strange symbols into his flesh. On his chest, all down his arms.
This wasn’t some dealer tying him up for a beating over money or some shit. This was serial killer or satanic ritual level stuff.
They might need the police after all.
Sam noticed that under the cuts, Tally was far too thin. It caused his heart to ache. This young man had been suffering in one way or another for far longer than tonight.
But he needed to focus on the here and now. He looked down at the tiny bottle of antiseptic in his hand and then up at all the wounds he could see.
“Let’s get you in the shower, clean you up that way.”
It was a start. Once the cuts were all clean and safe from infection, then they could decide what to do.
Tally just stared at him.
“Can you walk?” asked Sam.
Tally nodded and slid off the bar. As soon as he was on his feet, he wobbled and Sam grabbed his arm to steady him.
