I soak up her blood, dabbing gently while examining the rest of her body, making sure she didn’t hurt anything else. I’m checking over her arms when her eyes flutter open.
“I... I can see your nipples,” she says. Of course, that would be the first thing out of her mouth.
I glance down at my chest and then back up at her. “That’s because you puked on my back.”
“No, that doesn’t sound like me,” she says. “I don’t do embarrassing things like that.”
“Well, you did, then you passed out, hit your head, and reopened your wound.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I say, letting out a heavy sigh.
“You seem agitated,” she says.
“Iamagitated.”
“Uh-oh,” she whispers. “Was it something I did?”
Lara chuckles next to me, and I say from over my shoulder, “Don’t humor her.”
“Sorry,” Lara says. “She’s just so oblivious sometimes, it’s funny.”
“Ouch, be careful,” Brimar says. “She might’ve stabbed me in the meat, but it still hurts.”
“Wait... is that Brimar?” Lilly asks. “Oh God, that’s right, I impaled him with scissors.” She reaches out her hand... to nobody. “Brimar, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean to.” She dry-heaves, and to fuck if I’m going to have her throw up again.
I grab the supplies I need, loop my arms under her, and then lift her up. “I’m taking her upstairs.”
“Wait, no. Brimarrrrrrr,” Lilly calls out as I leave the living room and head up the stairs. “He’s going to hate me forever. You need to take me back to him so I can apologize properly.”
“You already said sorry, and I’m not about to watch you dry-heave some more.”
I take her into her room, lay her down on her bed, and then spread out my supplies.
“You’re all grumbly,” she says as I unwrap a butterfly strip to close up her cut. “Am I in trouble?”
“No, Lilly.”
“Then why are you acting like I’m in trouble?”
“I’m not acting like you’re in trouble, I’m just trying to calm down. A lot happened in thirty seconds and I’m trying to process it all.” She’s right. Had Brimar not reacted as quickly as he did, the scissors would’ve impaled his eye.Thank fuck he’s as agile as he is.I take a deep breath, clean her wound, stop the bleeding, and then place the butterfly bandage on her forehead. It’s going to bruise. Hopefully, makeup will cover it. I check the back of her head and can feel a small lump forming. I’ll need to watch that.
“I see... do you think I’m a criminal? Because if you do, I need to tell you, it’s not in my nature to stab people. That’s the first time I’ve ever punctured anyone. I mean, there was that one time in seventh grade when I accidentally poked Basil, a kid in my class, with a paperclip, and when I say accidentally, I mean on purpose, because he said his boobs were bigger than mine, and he was flat-chested. So, I opened up a paperclip, and as he walked by, I jabbed, but I didn’t puncture his skin, only snagged his favorite sweater, which was more of a win, because it created an irreparable hole. But I swear I’m not a criminal.”
“I know, Lilly.”
“Truly an accident, so no need to be grumbly.”
“I’m not,” I say in a grumbly tone as I stand from the bed. “Now don’t fucking move, do you hear me?”
“Where are you going? You say you’re not grumbly but you still sound grumbly.”
“I have to go take a shower. You threw up on my back, remember?”
“Like I said, that’s not my brand. I don’t throw up on backs. Toilets, yes. Trash cans, absolutely. Perhaps the gutter on the side of a street? A few times. And then there was one moment where I threw up on Carmichael’s history book, but that’s because I was going to throw up on his art project and he stuck his history book under me before I could. But backs... no.”
I walk away. “Just stay put.”
