Painful Lullaby

I backed up into the wall.

"W-what?" I stuttered, looking from Jag to Donny and back again. I tried to remember where the door was.

"You need to take your clothes off. We have to look you over!" Jag said. Donny sighed, putting his face in his hands and shaking his head.

I tried to remember how to breathe.

"Jag, stop. You're scaring her." If looks could kill, then Donny would have a murder on his hands.

"But-"

"Stop. Roxie. We're not going to hurt you. Just calm down. I want to take a look at your cuts, I know how to fix you up. But it would be a lot easier if you had your shirt and pants off, just so I have room to work," Donny explained. I felt myself breathe a little easier.

__________

So, there I was. Sitting in my underwear on the very chair that Jag had drank his coffee on earlier that day. I was paling already.

"Okay, Jag, turn some music on so she's distracted. Make it quiet though. Now, Roxie, I'm probably going to hurt you, and yes, it's intentional, but if you want to get better, it's nessecary. So, no jerking around. Sit. And. Deal. Got it?" Donny asked.

"Yes, Doctor," I smirked. He shook his head and unloaded his box. There was a lot of bandages and tape and creams. It was all very foreign to me, although my mother was a nurse.

Donny stood up just as the music drifted from the small stereo that Jag brought from what I assumed was his room. He, too, came to join Donny in the examination of me.

They're only want to make you better so you can get out quicker. They don't like you, neither of them do, and they never will. Right now, they're probably looking at your fat, and thinking how disgusting you are.

STOP IT! I fought back against my mental mother. The sound of Jag's voice sliced through my internal war.

"Well, you should probably save the worst for last. That way she can't chicken out early."

"You're probably right," Donny agreed, "Well, let's begin!"

He said it casually, as if it were a game. It worried me. Jag wiped my bangs from my forehead. Donny wiped my cheek with some chemical, and by the smell of it, I assumed it was rubbing alcohol. The small cuts on my cheek stung slightly, and I held my breath. I didn't like that smell.

Then Donny moved down to my leg. He poured peroxide on my leg where the dogbite was located. Jag was on my left side. The arm with the cuts.

We were surrounded by the music, the noise of various things being dropped on the floor by Donny, and the acidic smell of whatever was cleaning my dog bite out.

"So, um...did you do all...these?" Jag motioned at the cuts.

"I did the cuts. The bruises are from my mother," I replied. I felt disappointed for cutting myself for the first time.

"Stop talking, I need my concentration," Donny demanded.

And again we were immersed in the comfort of music. I wondered if Donny really knew what he was doing. I looked up to see what Jag was doing. He was staring at me with a look that was a mix of worry, pain, and concern. His arms were crossed, and he was extremely tense. I smiled up at him, and he loosened up a little bit.

"Ow," I whined.

"Deal with it. If I don't clean this, your leg's gonna get infected, and you're gonna call me over so that I have to chop your leg off," Donny said.

"You wouldn't do that."

"Don't be so sure. Now shush."

I tried to concentrate on the music, but my head was spinning, and I felt the urge to do something active.

"Can I sing?" I asked.

"What?" Donny replied, looking confused.

"I said 'Can I sing?'"

"Yeah, sure. Knock yourself out."

So, I sang along to Dragging Dead Bodies in Blue Bags Up Really Long Hills by Escape the Fate. Donny began bandaging up my leg. Jag loosened up some more. I was sure I must look like a train wreck. Donny pulled up a chair next to mine, his arms stocked with the tools to mend my broken body.

"Alright. Jag, hold these, and hand me what I need. Roxie, your skin taught here," he motioned awkwardly at my chest, "and I'll do what needs to be done. No singing."

"Jag's a nurse," I giggled.

"So?" Jag asked, and both he and Donny looked confused.

"Nurses are supposed to be girls," I giggled again. Jag (unsucessfully) tried to hide a smile, and Donny shook his head at me. He got to work on my chest. This one really started to hurt. I sucked in a big breath and tried to imagine that it was my shirt rubbing against my cut, not a cotton ball soaked with peroxide.

"Well that's not good," he mumbled to himself.

"What?" Jag and I asked at the same time. In my voice there was a hint of boredom, in Jag's a hit of urgency.

"Nothing, I just wanted to worry you," Donny smirked. Jag looked extremely pissed, and smacked Donny in the head. This just made Donny's smirk turn into a huge grin. He stuck on a small Band-Aid, and paused before further wrapping it in tape. He looked like he was trying to figure out where to put it.

"Put it anywhere it'll stick, Donny," I said. He pulled me out from the chair a little so that I was sitting on the edge. He taped over the Band-Aid on an angle, so it went over my shoulder. Then he moved on to my arm.

"Alright. Jag, go over to her other side. Roxie, this is most likely going to really hurt a shit load, so I'm asking that you don't move at all. Even if it feels like some asshole lit your arm on fire. Don't move. Just. Deal. Got me?"

"Yes, Doctor," I smiled.

"Okay, and for me to move on, Roxie, you need to tell me the last time you cut yourself," Donny said.

"Um...why?" I asked, my voice small.

"Because this cut is new. Did you just do this?"

I didn't answer Donny. I just hung my head and started to cry. I felt even more disappointed in myself. I looked up to see that worry had worked itself back onto Jag's face. He stroked my hair slowly.

And then I felt it. A burning feeling. It really did feel like someone had lit my arm on fire. My stomach lurched, and I reached for Jag's hand. He slid his hand into mine, and I squeezed his hand almost as tightly as I had my eyes squeezed shut. It was a death grip.

Donny worked quickly and efficiently, not wasting any time. And very soon, it felt like the fire had been put out, and was now numbed with ice. I didn't even feel him put on the bandages.

"Alright," Donny stood up, "I'm finished here. I'm sure Jag's got some Tylenol or Advil around this place, so just take one if you start to hurt anywhere. You should probably take one now."

"I'll get you some medicine," Jag murmured. He was closer to me than I thought.

"Okay," I said, my lips barely forming the words. That had really tired me out.

"Roxie..." Jag started.

"Yes?"

"You need to let go of my hand now."

"Oh, sorry." I let go of his hand and looked up to smile at him. He turned away quickly, but not before Donny and I seen the reddish tint to his cheeks. I smiled.

"I think he likes you." Donny murmered as soon as Jag was out of the room. He was packing his little box back up and cleaning the paper scraps from the Band-aid off the floor.

"You really think so?" I tried to sound nonchalonte and doubtful, but there was still a bit of hope in my voice.

"Yeah. He's never blushed like that before." Donny shook his head just as Jag arrived back in the room with a glass of water, a pill, and a towel.