10- The Wounded

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Haven felt a pang of guilt for not finishing up caring for the kitten as he'd said he would, but the wounded teen laying pitifully on his bed looked as though he was standing on the edge of death. Sitting next to him, Haven absentmindedly dabbed his finger in the greenish Osaricus balm. His gaze was stuck on the black tattoo. There were days and moments like this where he wished the Joy Eraser had fucked up his memories, too. "I wish I didn't remember," he said to himself. "How much easier it would be to forget people you have lost and things you have done." Taking a small glob of the ointment, Haven carefully spread it across the younger man's wound. The creamy balm lay thick on pale skin, soon it would turn from green to white until it was absorbed. In a matter of time, it would vanish and the healing would begin. If all went well, there would be nothing more than a small scar on the other's head by tomorrow. But Haven didn't worry about scars as much as he fretted over the fact that the stranger would not wake up.

Wiping his hands on a clean towel, Haven leaned to the teen and ran his finger over the tattoo until he couldn't bear it anymore. With a painful sound, Haven brought a curtain of dark hair over the star. "I can't..."

Collecting the balm, he returned to the kitchen where the little cat was finishing off its meal. Haven slumped on the floor by the nearly empty plate of sardines and watched the ball of black fur gobble every last bit up. "It's shitty, isn't it?"

Sitting on its haunches, the kitten began to lick its paws. When Haven spoke, it paused and let out a small meow.

"Life, I mean. Not the sardines." Reaching to the cat, Haven scooped it in his lap. "It's nothing but pain...people handing it to others as though it were candy." Running his fingers over the kitten's shut lids he shook his head. "I don't know if you're ever going to see again. I find it nearly impossible." Haven reached for a dollop of the balm and began to spread it gingerly over the animal's lids. "They say hope springs eternal, but all I see is a dry well."

The kitten, still carrying more love than a wounded creature often did, began to purr loudly. It let Haven tend to its wound, trusting him as though it had never seen cruelty before.

"I don't know why you are so happy but I envy you," he said as he took another dollop and spread more around the edges of the cat's lids. "Do you know what I am? A fraud. I often think other people are so horrid when for the past seventy years I have killed more of them than I would ever like to admit. I'm a murderer, plain and simple. Nothing more than a fake who thinks others are worse than him. I'm not good, cat. Not good at all."

When Haven finished, the kitten bumped against his chest and began to rub its head against him. The creature's affection was the balm Haven needed, a medicine to try to fade his grief.

"I hope your eyes get better," Haven whispered as he pet the cat. "And I hope you stay. I'd like the company."

Flakes of dust fell upon the kitten's inky fur whenever Haven moved. Tiny speckles of reddish created uneven freckles. Brushing his knuckles against the fur, Haven cleaned the dust off. He scooped the cat up and set it on the floor. "I need to wash this off me." Rising off the chilly floor, Haven headed to the bathroom to shower.

In the bedroom, Eli's delicate breaths continued. His eyes remained still behind his lids. The angry wound, now covered in a slowly fading green goo, had stopped bleeding. In his mind, the vision of a goldfish swam around a vast blue bubble. Behind the fish, the world was ablaze. Wood crackled and shattered by the licking flames. The bubble pulled back and became two. Eli saw the spheres turn into a pair of blue eyes, behind those eyes, a woman smiled. Her dark hair moved around her like reeds swaying in a pond. She continued to smile as the fire enveloped the whole world.  

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