“That’s not fuckin’ happening until I take care of your wounds, because I know you won’t do it yourself.”
I won’t. I don’t give a fuck if I bleed out on the floor.
“Get up,” he orders.
“Fuck off.”
“Fine.”
He turns and goes to the bathroom, coming out a moment later with the first aid kit. He drops to his knees beside me.
“Do you have any fuckin’ clue how much it would devastate Rella if anything happened to you?” he asks, pulling shit from the kit and setting it on the floor.
“She’d be better off, and we both know it.”
“Like fuck she would. She’s been through enough in her life. Losing you would destroy her.”
“She’s been through what she has because of me,” I snarl, pissed that he’s still denying the obvious.
“You are a stubborn son of a bitch, Emo. How many fuckin’ times do you have to be told none of it was your fault?” He grabs the bottle of alcohol sitting on the floor and realizes it’s empty. He tosses it to the side and picks up the peroxide instead. “Tell me, what in the hell could you have done to stop your father?”
“Fought him harder. Killed him,” I answer.
“Goddammit, Emo. These need stitches.”
“No, just put the fuckin’ bandage on them.”
I want to tell him to leave them alone, but I know he won’t. He’ll fight tooth and nail to care for my wounds, especially because of how bad they are.
“And do you really think that would have stopped Rella from being hurt? He
would have made it much worse on you both. And besides, if you did manage to kill him, it would have been some other adult hurting her.” He smears ointment on the gashes and starts sticking big bandages over them before working on my hands. “It was torture watching what happened to her every Hell Night. The only thing that helped was knowing she was with someone who cared about her. I knew you would do everything in your power to make it as painless as possible. I saw how much it hurt you too. You didn’t care what your father was doing to you. Your sole concern was her.”
I stay quiet as he finishes with the rest of my wounds. Once he’s done, he sits back on his heels.
“Come back to the house with me.”
“No,” I grunt.
“Rella wants to see you. She’s worried.”
“It’s better I stay here. She doesn’t need me near her.” I don’t give him a chance to protest. “How is she doing?”
He scoots to the side and leans back against the wall beside me. “I gave her some pain meds for the cramps. Dr. Manor did a fucking number on her uterus,” he says harshly. “I wish the bastard wasn’t dead so I could get my hands on him and cut his fuckin’ heart out.”
I’d do much more than that. I’d drag his death out for weeks.
“Is there a way to fix the damage?”
He sighs and props his arm on his raised knee. “If she’ll allow it, I want to examine her further, but I think the scarring is too extensive.”
I fist my freshly bandaged hand.
“You need to finish it, Emo,” he says quietly. I feel his eyes on me. “It’s the only way you’ll be able to move on.”
“No. Soon, but not yet.”
He lets out a deep breath and gets to his feet. “I need to get home. I wish you would come back with me.”