Do No Harm
Wince
The girl shuffled towards me. I could hear her wince in pain as she inched closer to me. I looked up at her, trying to make eye contact. She looked younger than me, about fifteen, and a sudden thought hit me: I was her protector now; I needed to stay alive for her now, too, not just for me.
"Stay," I told her. "You don't want to hurt yourself even more." I paused, making sure she heard me. "Besides," I added, "he's going to be right back. He'll bring you pain meds and some water."
The girl looked up at me. She glanced over my body, looking at the bruises and the dried blood, and then she met my eyes. With a nervous look in her eyes, as if she already knew the answer, she asked, "Why does he try to heal us?"
I couldn't lie to her; as scared as she looked, she deserved the truth: "So he can hurt us again."
"Stay," I told her. "You don't want to hurt yourself even more." I paused, making sure she heard me. "Besides," I added, "he's going to be right back. He'll bring you pain meds and some water."
The girl looked up at me. She glanced over my body, looking at the bruises and the dried blood, and then she met my eyes. With a nervous look in her eyes, as if she already knew the answer, she asked, "Why does he try to heal us?"
I couldn't lie to her; as scared as she looked, she deserved the truth: "So he can hurt us again."