I watch through blurry vision as he lifts the hem of the tattered shirt to reveal the silky one beneath soaked with blood. He sighs through his nose before lifting the hem of the tank, exposing my fevered skin to the cool night. There’s a flash of something small and sharp in his hands as he begins to carefully cut the bloodied cloth from around my middle. His jaw tightens at the sight of the jagged wound stretching below my rib cage, a muscle ticking in his cheek. His eyes, full of an emotion I’ve never seen from him before, trace the bloody mess on my stomach.
