Hand of Blood

It was one of those moments when time just stands still, and then starts running in slow motion. That was what happened as I heard a piercing, high pitched crack, followed by crunching as the fragile glass gave in to my fingers that were gripping it ever tighter. Every other thought flying from my mind caused me to slowly look down at my hand. Unlike normal people, my first reaction wasn't to let go. I just stood there watching it with curiosity, as the glass started to sink into the pale skin of my palms. It took a while before time stepped back into its average pace, and sensible brain waves entered my thoughts. It took a while before I felt the pain and the shock I was frozen in slipped away.

"Oh shit," I stated, my eyes widening as it finally hit me. Only once my thoughts were fully registered was I able to open my tightly clenched fist and allow the crushed glass fragments to tumble to my bedsheets below me. I quickly tumbled off of my bed, as crimson began to steadily seep from my skin. The shock was sinking further in now, taking me away from my icy state, and into one of panic.

"Shit, no no no," I started repeating to myself quickly, gripping my wrist with my free hand as blood spilled onto the carpet from my damaged fingers. I frantically began moving around my room, looking for something to stop the bleeding, or at least that's what I had in mind. In truth, I was probably searching around aimlessly, looking but by no means seeing. The pain was starting to burn.

"Bri?"

My whole body paused at the sound of his voice. Matt. I had completely forgotten he was even here. That tipped my panic levels over the charts. Now what was I supposed to do?

"Brianne?" He said again, his voice a little louder as he probably stepped closer to my door. I was screaming inside as my eyes continued flickering aimlessly about my bedroom, a very obvious trail of crimson now staining my carpet. My initial thought was that I had to cover it, but after careful consideration I decided I needed to get dressed. It took me a moment, and a trip over to my wardrobe, before I realised the main point here was to stop my hand from bleeding.

"Ye-ah?" I finally managed to call back, my voice shaking as I tried to keep my breathing regular, as well as my thoughts. Now what was he going to think? I had gone and made some new friends and then I went and ruined it. I went and crushed a glass in my fist. Yeah, that would score me major 'normal' points. I had forgotten my hand was bleeding again, which was doing nothing for my cream coloured carpet.

"Are you... Whats wrong?" Matt called back, concern and urgency creeping into his tone and once again grabbing my attention. I started chewing on my lip as I stood defeated and lost in the center of my messy room. What was I supposed to do?!

"Uh-h," I replied stupidly, my gaze spinning around my room as I tried to level out my thoughts. If I only I could have stopped panicking for ten seconds, I would know what to do. If only Matt wasn't behind that door waiting for me, I would be able to lower my heart rate.

I paused as I heard the door creak open from behind me, causing me to instantly spin round, my wide eyes meeting with Matt's. He looked at me completely dumbfounded as time stood still again. This time, it didn't last quite so long. It never does when you're not alone.

"Fuck, Brianne! What did you do?!" He said suddenly, his eyes flying down to my floor littered with blood. I swallowed hard as I turned completely to him, still clutching my wrist. I held my hand out pathetically to him, to show the cause of the mess, before I managed to control myself any better.

"The gla-ss," I managed to stammer out, as I turned suddenly and indicated to the broken heap on my bed sheets. His eyes followed as I saw him take a deep breath. He nodded lightly in response to my comment, before he took a step towards me. There was something different about the way he approached me; with his own shock and panic, a strength seemed to be flowing through him. I could see the power in his steps.

"Right," he stated in a purposely calm voice as he stood before me. He glanced around my room for a second as thoughts rushed through his mind, before his eyes fell back onto me. It was only brief, as he held onto my arm sporting my cut-up hand, just above my wrist that I was still clinging to. As he held it, I let go and gladly allowed him to take control as he turned away and lead me out of the room.

Matt looked around again, appearing to be quite collected considering the situation. "Wheres the bathroom?" He asked in a soft tone, glancing back at me as I trailed behind him. His voice was somehow calming on me too; comforting instead of being all agitated as I was myself. I glanced around the hall before I held out my free, shaking arm and pointed to a door on the left side of the hallway. Matt shared a glance with me before he headed in that direction, dragging me into the small room.

+

I was currently sitting on the edge of my ice cold bath, with Matt kneeling down on my bathroom floor. In a combined effort, with more trouble than I was worth from me, we had managed to 'shake off' the glass shards that were simply resting on my skin. Matt was now proceeding to work out the best way to clean up the mess that was attached to my limb, which now wasn't bleeding quite so much. I was thankful for that, at least.

As we sat in a comfortable silence, my eyes wandered the small, white washed room. It was by far, the coldest place in the house. White shower curtains, white walls, white tiles, white flooring. Possibly not the best place to be when spilling bright red liquid around the place, but that was to be ignored at the moment. I suddenly winced as I felt Matt lightly take my hand in his, one resting underneath mine as support while the other had timidly begun to clean up the palm that was facing the ceiling. You guessed it, that was white too.

My whole body tensed once more as a ripple of pain burned through me. As a result, my teeth clamped down onto my bottom lip and my eyes started to sting. I could guess they would be shimmering by now anyway, so I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, just as I noticed Matt's head tilt upwards to look up at me. His hard to read gaze met with mine for a moment before he bowed his head once again.

"You don't have to not cry on my account," he stated softly, his attention firmly fixed on my hand that was directly before him. I nodded lightly in response as my teeth remained firmly on my lip, to stop words from forming. It would probably result in me talking endlessly about nothing important, or complaining.

After a few more minutes, my hand looked generally back to its normal, pale colour, if you ignored the slices in the skin. I continued to watch Matt with interest as he focused solely on the task at hand, seemingly more responsible than I could ever be, and still ever so calm. I flinched and whined softly as I felt him remove a stray shard of glass from one of my cuts, that had refused to fall out of its own accord.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his gaze returning to me with sincerity in them. "Do you think there's any more glass in it?" He asked, taking my sense of touch over his sense of sight. I shook my head in response, my hand throbbing but pretty evenly, causing me to assume it was glass free. Matt seemed to frown at me a little as his gaze fell back to my hand and he let it go gently, his own hand moving to rest beside me on the bath's edge to support himself.

"Are you sure?" He asked carefully, his eyes searching mine, "Maybe you should go to the hospital, just to check."

I shook my head firmly at his comment. "I'm not going to the hospital," I stated quietly, as a slight air of fear seeped into me.

Matt instantly frowned, which I knew would happen. That's what I was afraid of. "Bri, I'm no doctor. You really shou-"

"I'm not going," I repeated firmly, a harsh edge on my tone. I wasn't sure what his reaction would be to my words, but it was the only way I could be sure he wouldn't make me go. It was a sacrifice I was currently willing to make to avoid that awful place.

There was a visible pause before he sighed lightly and nodded. His gaze fell from mine as he slowly pulled himself to his feet, now standing over me rather than sitting below. The guilt began sinking in then for what I had said, as I saw the disappointment and concern in his body language.

"So, do you have any... Uhm... Bandages, or anything?" Matt asked softly as his gaze wandered the small room. I nodded in response and pointed to the mirrored cabinet sitting over the sink. I watched as he moved over to it and started to fumble through the numerous first aid items inside it, loose cotton buds spilling out and into the sink as he did so. After finding and taking out the roll of bandage he moved back towards me and knelt down once more. He started to carefully wrap some of the material around my hand as I remained determine to not shed a tear. To be honest, this was the most painful bit so far.

As I watched him make short work of the remaining task at hand, I suddenly slipped further back into reality, my mind coming up to speed. I was sitting in my bathroom, with Matt repairing my hand, while I was sitting in my bra. I surely deserved some award for not noticing that earlier, and Matt did for not making some comment on it. Although, he wasn't Jay, after all. I started chewing my lip as I felt myself begin to blush. Vanity is a horrible thing, along with shame.

I bowed my chin down as I tried to make my hair curtain my face and hide my flushed cheeks from Matt. I just seemed to make it more obvious, as his gaze rose to travel over me, and he smiled softly at me. I timidly returned it, embarrassment being my top issue right now.

"Well," Matt said quietly. "At least it's not white," he said with a small grin as his gaze flicked back away from my hand and into my eyes. I allowed myself a small chuckle, considering the situation, as Matt finished patching up my hand. He let it go and I bought it close to my face, inspecting his handy work. He honestly wasn't half bad. He must have experience with clumsy individuals.

Matt smiled again as he watched me. "That should do it," he said lightly, pulling himself back up onto his feet.

I nodded lightly and turned to look up at him sheepishly. "Thanks," I said softly, smiling lightly.

He returned it. "Anytime," he replied smartly, holding out a hand to me. I took it with my good hand and he pulled me effortlessly to my feet, taking a step back to make sure I didn't end up on his feet, or too close. I couldn't help but think how thoughtful that was of him. "Do you still want to come over?" He added as he watched me carefully.

A smile easily grew on my face. "Of course," I said in a bright tone, not about to let a damaged hand let me down. I couldn't wait to spend the day with the guys again.

He grinned at me in approval. "I'll wait for you downstairs, then," he said lightly, as he turned and walked out of the bathroom. I followed him and watched as he wandered down the hall towards the stairs, throwing me a backwards glance and sharing a smile with me before disappearing from sight. That man seemed to leave me with hope in the male species. Saying that, most of the time they were more reliable than women anyway. I sighed lightly to myself, shaking my head at my thoughts, before I turned back into my bedroom. I glanced distastefully around the now even more of a mess of a room, and went about finding some clothes to cover the top half of my body.

There was one thing in my mind that I was more thankful for than anything at this moment in time. Matt's attention had been so focused on my injuries caused on my hand, he didn't have an oppertunity to notice the ancient marks scarring my arms. I wasn't sure if he would have been so forgiving or understanding if he had. Not yet.