The wound doesn't look as ugly as it is jarring. The red of the bruised flesh, the twisted line traced where the wounds have been closed, the sickly appearance of the surroundings, and finally, the bruises that have faded so much I only recalled the bullets wounds and almost forgot the physical torture Liz have been put through that day.
I quiet down, but not for long.
*Pa*
I slap Liz's hand away from the wound before she can touch it.
"The stitches are not bad, right? The sutures have been well done, so the scars I will have should not be too ugly."
Liz's soft laugh makes me look up impassively, before I turn back to focus on the wounds and clean them. First comes a swab of cotton dabbed in disinfectant, then another swab dabbed in medicine. After that, I dress back the wounds with the stitches that could only ever look good when in a book, and not on a skin dear to me.
I take a deep breath, but get interrupted by Liz's hand falling on my head. I look at her, then turn to my own wound. It is a tear, not a perforation, but it is certain to leave a scar, one I will never hide.
I softly bite my lower lip, and the look in my eyes hardens for a moment, before I push the resentment away to finish putting the bandage around my thigh. At that moment, the lighthearted way Liz has taken everything that happened, and is taking everything that is happening, grates me and clashes against the resentment in my chest.
I turn away, but Liz seems to understand me. She rubs my head with the head she refuses to let fall from there despite my movements.
I take a deep breath. I put away the medical supplies bag. After putting on shorts and a tank top, I help Liz wear a long skirt, and a warm sweater.
I don't know about her, but that is what I can be comfortable in until I get new clothes that I'm certain no foreign fingers have ruffled through. Just recalling the state of our house makes me shiver in disgust. I even feel nauseated. But under Liz's gaze, I do my best to push my discomfort aside.
I casually give my short blonde hair a pixie styling, then go brush Liz's long strands of soft dark silk to put the finishing touch to our appearance. We do not need much more than our simple appearances. We are already not bad looking, and we don't have any need to impress anyone.
I clean up any sign of chaos in the room, and push her out. Fortunately, the inside of the hotel is a controlled environment. That spares my exposed legs from the discomfort of the snowless winter cold. As the soft air currents in the enclosed corridor caress my skin, I don't feel the same discomfort from months ago.
Not to mention the echoes of the past becoming the least of my problems after everything that happened since the accident, I have adjusted and re-anchored myself into the present, into this life I have lived for over a decade and a half. Though, like tainted water being unable to go back to the clear appearance of before, I have changed, I don't have any trouble with my identity anymore.
I look down at Liz tucking her long hair behind her ear, and smiled bitterly. I would instead rather have those troubles last for years and wipe away what happened, is happening, and will probably have a continuation, than the way things are now.
We stop before the elevator, and I press the button to call it. At that moment, another door closes in the corridor with a soft snapping sound that attracts our gazes. That seems like a signal that pulls my mind away from the serenity of silence Liz's closed mind has given me. The world starts buzzing, like it came back to life after a deep night, and the irritation that has left me alone for a few hours comes back.
I almost wince, but I recall the reason why we have been forced to live here, away from our home. I recall 'Mike', and his words, his disarming explanation about what had prompted him to investigate me and finally attack us. I take a deep breath, and exhale, pretending nothing happened.
Liz looks up. I smile and raise my eyebrows questioningly. She gives me a deep look, then shakes her head, and turns to the chestnut-haired woman adjusting her sunglasses on her nose as she walks toward us, or rather, the elevator we are standing in front of.
As for me, my brows twitch in a slight, imperceptible transient frown. Amidst the soft noise on the floor, I feel relieved that we are in the middle of the day. Most have gone out, or are sleeping, like the woman coming over who just woke up not long ago after some intense activities last night or very early today.
'I'm relieved. It's nobody I know. They won't recognize me.'
I take a light but long breath, then exhale, before my mind moves. It is amazing how I'm not drowned by the overwhelming flow of information seemingly swimming around. However, I only spent an hour or so with Liz in our room where there is no one else. Before that, we have been through crowded places, and only now do I remember the new trouble after the incident.
*Ding*
I absentmindedly push Liz inside the elevator, and press the restaurant's floor button after the adulteress also comes in. I look at her, and push away from my mind her lingering feeling of pleasure now tainted with worry, apprehension, and a tiny dose of deep-seated excitement.
The thoughts, too close and too clear, are also accompanied with images that don't carry any guilt at all and kill a part of my appetite.
I lower my head, too disgusted to even keep my eyes on the sex-reeking woman wrapped in a fur coat.
I return my mind to the question that has come to me earlier. I return to wondering why I have only now reconnected with the sea of polluting thoughts I have come to read too easily since waking up at the hospital for a second time in the year.