“No.” His voice was low again, void of any emotion. “He kept everything to hitting and kicking.”
Xander bit his tongue to keep from saying out loud what he was thinking. He was relieved, but the damage was still uncalled for in any situation. “Can you either sit up or roll over and let me see your back? I know you’re hurting, but I want to help you.”
“Can I take a shower?”
“Are you going to be able to stand up on your own?” Xander was genuinely worried about him falling in the shower. He didn’t have a tub and there was just a tiny bench in the shower that didn’t really get much water spray to it. Neither of them spoke and Xander was sure the kid was trying to figure out if he could actually stand or not. Xander saw the way he’d immediately crumpled when he was pulled out of the truck. And those bruises and his shoulder wouldn’t be much better for weeks. He stood up and reached his hand out. “I’ll help you up and we’ll go from there, okay? I can help you get undressed at least.”
“Um, I can do that.” The kid took his hand with his right one. He kept the left arm down by his side. He could see just from looking at him that it was swollen and had to hurt. Dislocated shoulder at least. He could reset it; he had the training for it. It would hurt and there was a chance the damage was extensive enough to need surgery. He wouldn’t know until he could see it.
He finally got the kid standing up. He barely came up to Xander’s shoulder. Xander swiped his thumb under his eyes to clear away the remaining tears. The kid- guy- took a deep breath. Or tried. He stumbled and Xander caught him, but immediately adjusted his hands to wrap around his waist when he winced at his shoulder being touched.
“My shoulder hurts a lot,” he said. “And it hurts to breathe.”
“Does it feel like anything is moving or like there is any sharp poking sensations when you move?”
Xander watched as he took another breath and then took a step. He followed right beside him, his hands still on his waist. “I don’t think so. It hurts, but I don’t feel like I’m being stabbed. Just kicked repeatedly.”
He wasn’t sure if that was meant as a joke or the genuine way he felt. He decided to ignore it in favor of walking closely behindas they made their way around the bed and to the bathroom door.
Xander wanted to cut in, to help him in whatever way he could. He seemed determined to do it himself though. After a few seconds of standing just inside the bathroom, Xander leaning against the frame, he turned to look at him. All of his movements were slow, clearly trying to keep from hurting himself more. “I can’t move my arm.”
His left arm hadn’t moved in the whole time he walked across the room. The shirt was rumpled, dirt clinging to it in spots. There was a tear on the back, something Xander wasn’t sure was recent or not. “Can I help you get undressed?”
“I don’t-” He licked his lips and his eyes fell to the floor between them. “I’m not comfortable with that. With you seeing me.”
“Would you prefer a female to come in and help or I can just help with the shirt.” Xander didn’t move closer. If he was already uncomfortable, he didn’t want to do anything to make it worse. “I’m afraid you might have a dislocated shoulder. Are you okay with me checking that? It will hurt, but I could reset it for you. Might help take some of the pain away.”
“Thought you said I wouldn’t be hurt here.” That, Xander picked up on as an actual joke. He huffed out a breath.
“Are you naturally a smart ass or is it just the pain talking?” Xander stepped up and lifted the hem of his shirt once more. The kid kept his back turned to Xander as he worked the shirt from his good arm first. Good being a relative word. He tried to distract him by asking questions. “What’s your name? Can’t call you sweetheart forever.”
“You also called me gorgeous,” he said. His voice was nearly a whisper. Xander focused on pulling the shirt over his head. “Do you call all the guys that when they’re being beaten?”
“You have a terrible sense of humor; you know that right?”
“If I don’t laugh, I’m going to cry.” He ducked his head down as Xander finally got the shirt over his head. “And crying hurts right now so I’m trying not to think about the fact my dad just nearly killed me. My body is also going numb and I don’t think that’s a good thing. You said you were a doctor, right?”
“One thing at a time,” Xander said. He moved around the kid’s body, pulling the fabric down his arm instead of trying to move him. It caught under his arm and Xander saw him wince when he added pressure to the fabric. “What is your name? How old are you?”
“If I tell you, can you still call me gorgeous?” Xander’s eyes met the kid’s and he could tell he wanted it to come off as a joke. His lip quirked up in a smirk, but his voice betrayed him. He was serious.
“If I don’t like your name, I will,” Xander said jokingly back. He dropped the shirt onto the bathroom counter and started looking at his shoulder. “Can I touch?”
“My name is Wright; W-R-I-G-H-T.” He tensed up when Xander touched his bare shoulder. The bruise on his ribs was getting worse and he looked at his back. There was a cut on the injured shoulder, another nasty bruise starting on his lower back. His asshole of a dad really did a number on him. “Nineteen. Shit, that hurts.”
“At least we won’t have to worry about needing to get you emancipated or anything,” Xander said as he worked. He could feel the way his shoulder jutted out. He turned to the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of painkillers. They were over the counter, but extra strength. “Can you swallow or do you need water?”
“Never had the-”
“Pills, smartass. Can you swallow pills dry or do you need a glass of water?” Xander smiled when he heard the first sound of a short chuckle. Followed by a groan.
“Fuck, it hurts to laugh. And I’m actually terrible at swallowing pills. Water is needed and I have to take one at a time.”
“Stay right here and I’ll get a bottle for you,” Xander handed over the two pills to his good hand before walking out of the bathroom and through the house. The bedroom was set in the back right corner of the house. The bathroom had two entrances, one leading to the bedroom and one into the hallway. If it could be considered that. The rest of the house was open floor plan. The living room was right outside the bathroom, space to the left of that where he had a small, four-person dining table. The kitchen was to his right, the first room walked into from the front door. It was set up almost like the main house, but a smaller version and with less walls separating the rooms.
He grabbed a bottle of water and headed back to the bathroom through the hallway entrance. The shower was on the far wall, a walk-in that was spacious enough for two people. The hallway door was centered between the toilet on the right and the sink and counter on the left. That was where he found Wright again. In the same spot he told him to stay but now leaning his weight against the counter. And he was crying.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m right here. Are you hurting? What’s going on.”
