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"What happened?" she asks, but Claudia can't get any words out yet because her mind is still catching up to the sudden shift her body has just been put through.

"Looks like she burned herself," one of the workers says.

Irene takes her hand and turns her arm over.

"Come with me, let's get to the first-aid kit."

The supervisor steers her down the hallway and Claudia follows without really knowing what she's doing, just putting one foot in front of the other until they pass the side of the locker room and step into a small room that holds the first-aid kit, a sink for washing hands, and a wooden bench. Irene turns on the tap and holds Claudia's arm under the cold water.

"Don't move it—it'll help a little," she says, and Claudia does as she's told.

The water does offer some relief, but it barely lasts a few seconds before the pain comes back stronger—a sharp, relentless sting that makes her pulse throb at her temples and sends shiver after shiver through her.

Irene turns off the tap and examines the burn while patting her arm dry with paper towels.

"It doesn't look serious—I've seen a few like this in here—but it's going to hurt a lot. How did it happen?"

"I don't know. I got distracted, I guess."

The supervisor looks at her for a moment before turning to the first-aid kit mounted on the wall, and takes out a burn cream, medical tape, and some gauze. She's setting everything on the bench when the door opens and Laia walks in with her phone in her hand.

"Irene, you have a personal call from—" She stops dead when she sees Claudia in the middle of the room, arm suspended in the air, a reddish mark on her skin. "What happened?"

"She burned herself on the iron," the supervisor answers, taking the phone from her hand. "Can you take care of this? Put the cream all over the area and then cover it with gauze—not too tight, just enough to keep it from rubbing against anything."

Before Laia can respond, Irene is already out the door. The assistant walks over slowly, as though moving any faster might cause Claudia to fall apart.

"Let me see." Laia takes her wrist, and Claudia watches her furrow her brow and wet her lips. "Does it hurt a lot?"

"No."

Laia's gaze lifts to meet her amber eyes, bright now with the tension the pain is causing.

"It hurts like hell," she admits, and exhales sharply.

Laia says nothing. She picks up the cream, squeezes a little onto her fingers, and begins applying it to the area with great care.

"Your skin is on fire," she murmurs as she works in the ointment with a gentleness that makes something tighten in Claudia's throat. "How did it happen?"

"I don't know—an accident, I guess."

Laia looks at her again, and Claudia bites her lips, bothered by how well Laia can read her.

"I got distracted. I was thinking about something else. I'll pay more attention next time."

"One of those distractions that takes you somewhere else entirely?"

Claudia goes still, unable to say anything.

"It happens to you a lot. Maybe you should—"

"I'm fine. Nothing's wrong with me. I just think too much about certain things—it's not that big a deal."

Laia goes quiet, though she gives it more weight than Claudia seems to. Because what if it happens one day while she's driving? She could have a serious accident, and just the thought of something happening to her makes Laia feel like she's been thrown from a ninth-floor window.

She cuts a couple of strips of medical tape and places the gauze the way Irene told her—as loose as possible.

"I hope that's okay—if it bothers you I can—"