Hatchetfield Stories

Dinner, Apologies, And Stab Wounds

I have no clue what this is, my brain said 'evil Hidgens' and I just went with it.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Stabbing
-Injury
-Blood
-Medical stuff but by someone who's absolutely not experienced

-------

Emma anxiously opened the door of Hidgens's house. He had invited her over for dinner, to apologize for what happened during the apocalypse.

"Professor? I'm here," she called out, walking to the kitchen.

"Just in time," Hidgens said, taking his apron off. "I just finished cooking."

"What are we eating?"

"I made us some pasta, but I didn't have any sauce, so it might be a bit boring"

Emma hung her jacket over one of the chairs, and sat down. "I'm so hungry."

"That's great! Because I accidentally made three portions instead of two."

Emma chuckled as he scooped the dry pasta onto her plate.

Hidgens sat down next to her. "I have a lot to apologize for. There is no excuse for what I did to you, and I hope you can forgive me."

"It's okay," Emma said, taking a bite. "I forgive you."

*** *** ***

"Goodbye, professor," Emma said, hugging him. "Thanks for dinner."

"No problem, dear." His grip on her tightened in an almost bone-crushing way. Emma tried to push him away, but he didn't let go.

"Professor?"

"Shhh, it's okay, dear."

"Professor Hidgens, let me go."

She fell silent as she felt something sharp press against her back. A knife. She closed her eyes as it broke through the skin. "Hidgens, stop!"

Emma yelped in pain as he stabbed the knife deeper into her back. Her knees buckled and she gripped the fabric of Hidgens's turtleneck tightly. She held onto him as he carefully lowered her to the floor.

"It's okay, dear," he said as he stood up.

Emma looked at him. "Professor, what are you doing?"

The professor stared at a framed picture on the wall. "I've told you about my old friends, right? Greg, Steve, Stu, Mark, Leighton, and-"

"And Chad, yes I know, I watched your shitty musical, remember?"

He gasped. "Shitty? Shitty?! I worked on that for ages!"

"I'm sorry, man, but I did not enjoy it, though it could be because you tied me to a fucking chair."

Professor Hidgens cleared his throat. "Anyway, my friends... They're dead. I killed them. By accident, of course. I was researching an alien virus, much like the one that infected us a few weeks ago. They were keeping me company, but Chad got a little too curious. He infected the others not much later. I was wearing a special suit, so it couldn't get to me, but it was too late for them."

"I'm sorry, but that doesn't explain why you just stabbed me. Can you at least call an ambulance?"

He chuckled. "No, Emma. I want you to suffer like they suffered."

Emma felt blood gush out of the wound and run down her back. "What? Professor, what the fuck?!" She tried to push herself into a sitting position, but the effort was too much.

"I'll call Paul for you. But only if you promise to not go to the hospital. If the police would get involved that would be... unfortunate."

Emma nodded, just wanting Paul to be here. The professor grabbed her phone and made her unlock it, and called Paul.

"Hello, Paul. Can you come over here? Our dear Emma isn't feeling too good. I think she might need a ride home."

Emma rolled her eyes. What a terrible lie. She closed her eyes as the pain was reaching the limits of what she could tolerate. She had dealt with lots of injuries during her life. The most recent was when the helicopter had crashed, but before that, she had injured herself pretty often while backpacking through Guatemala.

Emma forced her thoughts to go back to the situation at hand. "Alright. Thank you, Paul. The door is unlocked." she heard the professor say.

"Emma, I have to go now," he said. "I can't be here when Paul comes. I'll grab a first aid kit for you and then I must leave."

Emma didn't reply, and she heard him sigh and walk away. He placed the medkit next to her a minute later. "Goodbye, Emma."

He walked away, and she heard the front door open and a car drive away.

He was gone, and now she could only hope that Paul would be there in time.

"Okay," she mumbled to herself. "Let's see what's in here." She crawled to the first aid kit and opened it. At least there were enough supplies to patch up a deep cut like this.

She sighed, tears stinging in her eyes. Shit. Paul probably didn't know how to deal with this. Emma did have some medical knowledge; after she fell from a hill in Guatemala and she went to a local hospital, the doctor taught her how to take care of small injuries, but there was no way she could reach the wound on her back to properly stitch it up.

The front door opened, and Emma called out Paul's name. Footsteps came closer. "Emma?" Paul appeared in the doorway. "Emma?!" He rushed to her side, dropping onto his knees next to her. "What happened?!"

"Paul! You were wrong, I shouldn't have trusted him."

"Come on, let's get you to the hospital." Paul tried to get Emma up, but she fought to stay on the floor.

"No! He made me promise to stay here. He doesn't want the police to get involved."

"Of course he doesn't! He stabbed you."

"Just... Just do something!"

Paul looked through the supplies. "What do I do?"

"Clean it and stitch it, of course!"

"Okay." He searched for the disinfectant, and Emma closed her eyes as he poured it onto the stab wound. Biting back a whimper and clenching her fists, she kept reminding herself that she'd been through worse, but it did little to distract her from the pain.

"What now?" he asked. "How do you fix something like this?"

"Wash your hands while I thread the needle, okay?" Her hands were shaking and her tongue hung out of her mouth in concentration as she focused on maneuvering the thread through the eye of the needle.

Paul carefully took the needle and inspected her back. "Do I just... pull it through?"

"Yeah! Just pretend you're repairing some jeans or something."

"I've never done this before," he mumbled, hesitation clear in his voice.

"I'd do it myself if I could reach it. Just get it over with, okay?" She lay down, her head on her hands as if she was just waiting for him to massage her back.

"Okay... Okay."

Emma closed her eyes as she felt the tip of the needle on her skin. "That's good," she reassured him, not able to stop her voice from shaking. "Just poke it and pull it through."

Her fingers curled around her hair, tugging at her scalp in an attempt to distract herself from the pain.

"Like this?"

"Yeah. Now on the other side and tie them into a knot." She bit back a whimper as he did what she said.

"Okay."

"Now do the same thing a few more times until the cut is closed."

By the time he was done, Emma was sure she'd pulled at least half of the hairs from her head. While Paul wiped the blood away with an alcohol wipe, she took a moment to steady her breathing and wipe the tears from her face, before she gestured for Paul to help her stand up. She stumbled to her bag, pulling her phone out.

"I thought you said you didn't want to call the police."

"I don't." She unlocked her phone and handed it to him. "Take a picture."

"What?"

"I want to see how you did, and if I'll try to look, I'll most likely rip the stitches."

"Okay." He took a picture and gave it to her. She bit her lip. "I'm sorry if I messed up, I don't-"

"Considering it's your first time, it's definitely not bad," she told him. "Guess I have something to teach you." She laughed, elbowing him in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Just bandage it up and give me a ride home."

Paul nodded, grabbing the supplies. "You can stay with me?" he asked as he worked. "You live alone, and I guess you could use some help right now. It's okay if you don't want to, but I-"

"Okay," she answered, smiling at him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Emma waited until he put the bandage away, and grabbed his tie. She pulled him in for a kiss.

And this time, she didn't spit blood in his face.