[DISCONTINUED] I Believe

Chapter Three

I almost screamed; I caught myself in time and only squeaked. I bit back a moan of pain; the hand was resting over my sliced shoulder blade, it was so large.

Jack chuckled at my reaction and I glared at him. "Not scared easily, eh?"

I folded my arms, instinctively reaching for the knife in my pocket. "FYI, I'm in a strange place with strange people and a freaky boy that can fly and came in my house without my permission who also took me through a magic portal that almost killed me and now there is a massive Russian dude pressing me into the floor. I think I have the right to be much more scared than I currently am." I set my jaw, trying and failing not to feel the vertebrae in my spine compressing from the weight. My knee wobbled and I tried to edge out from under the hand, slipping away so I didn't feel like I was being shoved into a trash compactor with my bruises aching.

The hand fell limply to someone's side and I followed it up the massive arm, to a head nearly four feet above me. They had blue eyes, crinkled and surrounded by laugh lines, and a white beard that came about halfway down their chest, wearing red clothes and black boots that would come up to above my knees and be three times as wide as the widest part of my thigh.

I stepped back and fell over another elf, giggling until I hit the ground, my laugh abruptly changing into a cry of pain that I cut short. My hand went to my hip and I dug my nails into my leg, biting my lip so as not to cry. I had landed on my bruised rear-end and hit my hip on a toy robot. I didn't usually cry, but this was more pain than usual in one day, what with reopening old wounds here instead of going to bed and healing.

My back felt slightly wet. I reached down the neck of my sweatshirt and realized with a gasp that the bandage had moved on my shoulder blade and the scab torn off with it. I reached back with the other hand to try to put it back, but my shirt was already red and wet, and I winced as my finger brushed the open flesh.

I hesitated, but it would be better if I dressed my own wound before they knew how bad it was. "Um, Jack?"

His head turned towards me again, away from a heated discussion. He looked relieved to be excused. "Yeah?"

"Do you have any bandages? Not band-aids, but the long strips doctors use?"

Behind me, the tall man's mouth dipped into a frown, the twinkle in his eyes becoming distinctly concerned. "Why do you need bandages?" he asked, but his Russian accent was so strong it sounded like vhy do vou need bandahges?

"I have an old cut on my shoulder from running into a sharp piece of metal," I lied. "It reopened when you put your hand on it. I can fix it, but the bandage came off and I can't-" I stuck my finger into the cut, distracted by talking, and hissed in pain. "Get it back on."

I withdrew my hands from the neck of my sweatshirt and looked at my fingertips. My hands were covered with blood, and I hid them in my pocket before anyone could see.

"Come with us, we will patch up cut." Come veeth us, vee veell patch up cut.

I shook my head. "It isn't that bad. I can do it myself."

The feather-lady -Tooth?- came over and almost rested a hand in my shoulder. I flinched away from her touch. "If it's from metal, there could be an infection. We just want to help."

I stood, gritting my teeth and practically kicking an elf away from me so I didn't trip again. I usually would have laughed again by now, but pain always, always made me serious. "I'm really fine. It's just a long scratch. I can do it. Plus, it a- um, weird angle. I can't get to it with my shirt on." I flushed slightly.

"Just give her the bandages," the shadowy figure said. "Before she starts laughing again."

I could feel hysterical giggles bubbling in my stomach from so much blood loss and nodded, not daring to open my mouth again.