I was bewildered. Not at his request but at how things got so intense for him that he's now in such a position. Needless to say, he was in my bathroom, wincing harshly as I dabbed at his skin with a cotton pad soaked with rubbing alcohol.
The money he remembered to offer me sat ontop of the kitchen countertop far away from us now. It was the least of my concerns. Part of me didn't even want to accept it.
That part was also very, very small.
I threw the fifth pad in the bin next to me and grab the first aid kit. Ignoring his stare was proving to be another challenge as well as tending to him. His eyes bore such attentiveness, studying every single move I was making. As I got out my needle and stitch, as I plastered his cut skin, as I cared for him.
