Facilis Descensus Averno [REWRITING]

xx. hornets' nest

Tim was sitting at the dining table, rummaging through the medium-sized white box beside him, aided only by the flame lantern on the center of the table. When he took out the roll of fresh gauze, he looked up and glanced at the young woman sitting across from him, then turned his gaze back down at the leg lying horizontal on the chair beside him.

"'Skye'?"

She stared at him for a moment, then raised her head to scan her eyes across the darkened room. "You introduced me as 'one of the kids'," she said simply. "Besides, it's easier to explain, raise less questions."

"Yeah, well." Tim clicked his tongue and nodded to himself. "I guess 'Siren' doesn't sound like a normal name, does it?"

A sharp thump echoed from the center of the room and he cursed under his breath, face scrunching painfully as he hissed through his teeth.

Her gaze softened. "I can help you with that."

"It's fine, I can do it," Tim said quickly, shaking his head, but she was already standing up and encircling the table, stopping in front of him. He had rolled his pant leg up to his knee, showcasing the large, deep red gash, at least half an inch wide and seven inches long, sliced diagonally across his shin. In one smooth movement, she went over to the first-aid kit, found a pack of alcohol wipes, and pulled one of the chairs up to sit beside his leg.

"I've heard that amnesia only affects some memories. Life events, experiences, things like that. But the skills you've learned to do, stay with you," Tim muttered quietly in front of her. She could feel his stare piercing through her skull as she took out several sheets of wipes and started cleaning the red blotches around the wound, slowly and gradually inching closer to the epicenter as she went. "Is it like that between you two? If you don't mind me asking."

"I do not mind." She tried to be as gentle in her actions as she possibly could, trying to not make any sudden movements that could agitate the wound. "I do not remember learning how to stabilize a wound, but I am sure she would have done this better than I can." He hissed sharply through his teeth when she accidentally brushed the alcohol wipe a bit too close to the wound, and her shoulders deflated. "Sorry."

"No, no, hey." He quickly shook his head. "You're doing better than anybody else in this house can."

She felt the corners of her mouth twitch before he leaned forward to tap her once on her shoulder—no doubt a meager attempt to reassure her, even if she knew that was a lie—only to inadvertently bend his leg, and immediately threw himself back against his chair as another wince struck his face and a loud hiss blew through his teeth. She froze, pausing to wait for him to eventually settle back comfortably into his seat, before she finally turned her attention back to the crimson gash.

"You don't have to do this," she said.

He threw his head back up and stared at her. "Do what?"

"Help me—help her." She nicked at the remaining specks of blood before tossing the last sheet aside, then snatched the roll of gauze from him. "You worry for her."

Tim drew in a deep breath and sighed. "She's just a kid."

"She is twenty-two." Taking the edge of the strip, she began wrapping the gauze around the injured leg, over one end of the wound and slowly worked her way down to the other end, making sure it was loose enough that it wouldn't hurt him too bad, but tight enough that it was applying enough pressure to keep the wound from opening again. "You were around the same age when you made those tapes."

"First off, I didn't make those tapes, Alex and Jay did," he scoffed quietly. "And second, that was different. I've been dealing with this my entire life."