Sparks *

Eventually, there was a knock at the door, and I stood from the bed carefully to open it. Outside stood Thatch again, with a box that I assumed had what I needed in his hands.

"Here you go. Are you sure you don't want anyone to—"

"I'll be fine." I murmured, taking the box from him before quickly stepping back. I saw him shrug before I shut the door again, breathing another sigh. Retracing my steps to the bed, I set the box down on the mattress before sitting down myself. I tapped my fingers on my thigh while staring at the floor, not really focusing on anything, then proceeded to open the container and emptying it of its contents. Eyes skimming over the contents, I examine each item and list them off in my head.

There were several rolls of bandages, a bottle of.. something, and several other things (I was really good at this so far) like clips and what looked like a needle and a roll of thread. I sincerely hoped I wasn't going to be forced to use that, but it all depended on my injuries, didn't it?

I stood again, faster than any other times before since I wasn't keen on having someone walk in on me while I was undressed. It brought a dull ache to my side, but I paid it no heed. Peeling off my heavy jacket, I stared at the damage done to my arms, and cringed. It was only going to get worse once I got to work, I thought anxiously as unease clutched at my nerves.

There were bruises on my upper arms from where I had blocked a wave of attacks from a small group of marines, unable to carry out that task with my swords. Several cuts and nicks littered the skin as well, though they were not too deep. I had dodged plenty in my last battle, but there was always that one marine that got those lucky hits on me.

Pulling the sleeves of my undershirt further back, I revealed my shoulders. They too were covered in nasty bruises from having used my shoulders to ram men, pushing them off my ship and into the ocean. There was one particularly purple bruise on my left shoulder that made me wince and berate myself in my mind for such recklessness.

Deciding to begin from there, I grabbed one of the bottles. I supposed I could use this to clean the cuts. Pulling the cap off, I placed it on the bed carefully, before rummaging through the contents strewn about on the bed. I found a decent sized rag, and, picking up the small bottle, I poured some of its contents on the cloth.

I dabbed at the cuts, instantly coming to realize that this was alcohol and wincing when I applied a little too much pressure. It felt like my skin was sizzling right then and there, the scalding sensation forcing me to deliberately roll my lips together so I wouldn't cry out in agony. It was almost as if my skin was fucking melting.

"Ugh… why me…" I grumbled, practically hissing after one last swab. Placing the rag on the bed and grabbing one of the rolls of bandages, I began to wrap the cuts and bruises that looked the worst. Bandaging my entire arm would restrict all movement, which is definitely not what I want or need in a situation such as this one seeing as I was on completely unfamiliar territory.

After my arms were all bandaged up, I moved on to my legs. I rolled up my pant legs, studying them closely. Thankfully, they were less damaged, but still bruised a whole lot. They looked like they were healing well enough; it was just the soreness that made it difficult to walk very far.

It was best to leave my legs be. There was nothing on them that really required attention, other than a few nicks here and there, but otherwise I were good to go.

I toyed with the hem of my shirt, debating whether I should really take a peek at that wound on my side. Sure, I didn't want it to get infected (I didn't know how it wasn't already), but I certainly didn't want to faint because of the blood and because of how bad it probably was.

Exhaling through my nose, I peeled the undershirt off I, sighing when I placed it on the bed. Biting my lip, I slowly glanced down.

It was as fucking bad as it looked.

"Why did that stupid marine have to go for my side…?" I complained quietly, grabbing the alcohol bottle and pouring a generous amount on the somewhat bloodied rag.

The gaping wound on my side stared back up at me, the dried blood surrounding it making me cringe. I crossed my fingers, praying that there was nothing vital damaged. I brought down the rag on the injury, covering the whole area. I knew I wasn't applying enough pressure for the liquid to really clean anything, but I was pretty damn scared (and pained).

Breathing in shakily, I applied more pressure, "Ah, fuck," I hissed, eyes shut tight from the pain that began to reappear. Swallowing thickly, I kept going until I was able to see it more clearly. It was deeper around the back, since the marine that had hit me hadn't had the guts to face me properly, substantially damaging me so much that stretching (and doing anything at all, really) was going to become tedious. Although it did look a tad bit better than it had before.

"Damn it all..." I hissed again, letting out a string of very colourful words. My heart was still racing, although less, and every beat of my pulse was like a hammer banging on the gash. When I finished wrapping my side with another roll of bandages, I gingerly placed everything back in the box, before dropping the container on the floor.

I carefully looked it over, nodding when I was sure everything was in it, before putting my clothes back on. It was a slow process, and I had to stand to get my pants back on, which only annoyed me further. Just as I was about to pull my undershirt over my head, there was rapping on the door.

The sound made me jump, prompting me to almost fall backwards. Steadying myself, I quickly finished dressing, making sure I threw the heavy coat on again, before walking over to the door. There was an itch at my side from the fabric wrapped around my waist, and I had to resist the urge to scratch it.

Opening the door, I peeked around it, seeing no one outside. Looking down, I saw a bowl of some kind of broth, still steaming, with a spoon sticking out of it. I stared at it, my eyebrows pulled together in confusion. Someone had brought the supplies I needed to treat my injuries, and now they had given me food, but I wasn't part of their crew. Glancing around, I hummed thoughtfully, hand resting on my hip.

"Oh, to hell with everything," I said as I took the bowl into my hands carefully, not wanting to spill its contents, before stepping inside the dark room again, "I haven't eaten in… I don't know how long."

I plopped down on the bed, taking hold of the spoon and stuffing some of the broth in my mouth. I hadn't realized how empty my stomach had been until now, and with food entering my system, I could feel my energy returning. Sighing through my nose, I closed my eyes as my shoulders slumped in relief. I also hadn't noticed how cold it had gotten inside the small space, and so I really appreciated the warmth my meal sent through my body. It was a miracle I was still alive after not eating for so long.

I finished my food rather quickly, successfully filling my stomach, before I set the bowl on the floor. Satisfied and full, I laid back on the bed, hands on my stomach. Forgetting the covers, I let my eyes fall shut, sleep finding me almost immediately.