((Derek Caldwell continued from Who the fuck are you? I mean, who the fuck are you trying to do the shit I do?))
His ringfinger was black.
He had heard about this before. Dry gangrene. Necrosis. Frostbite. Whatever you may call it. Point was, his only partly attached finger no longer recieved any blood circulation and was now a stiff lump of flesh, nerves and bones. Examining it closer, Derek felt like vomiting. Thankfully, they hadn't had their breakfast yet.
Maybe one hour ago, the announcement had awoken the two. For some reason, none of the deceased matched the description of the dead girl under the bed, but otherwise things seemed to progress just as the terrorists wanted it. Meaning they were better off not expecting help any time soon.
Meaning the finger had to go.
"Are... are you ready?" Derek asked both himself and the girl sitting in front of him.
To spend the night halfway calmly, they had settled on a random room and blocked the door with the desk so that anyone trying to enter would need to make a lot of noise doing so. Since there was only one bed, Derek had slept on the ground, using his new backpack as a pillow. The emergency blanket included in the first aid kit had helped a little.
Now the desk was in the middle of the room, the pair facing each other. On the desk rested Derek's right hand, bandages still on, accompanied by the knife and everything from the first aid kits that looked usefull for their undertaking.
Get the bandages off. Get rid of the dead ringfinger. Get new bandages on. It sounded so goddamn simple.
And painful. Mostly painful.
The Red Butterfly
Private! Day 2 CW: Amputation
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DerArknight
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((Chiara Masina continued from Who the fuck are you? I mean, who the fuck are you trying to do the shit I do?))
Even with the bed, Chiara could barely sleep that night. She had collapsed on the bed from the sheer exhaustion of the day and fell asleep, but it wasn't like she could peacefully drift off. Derek being attacked in the woods, the girl dying in the other room, memories of the briefing all flooded into her mind. It was a horrible night's sleep. Even with the assurance of the desk in the way, Chiara had that worry in the back of her mind that someone could burst in.
But no one did. She eventually drifted off after a few restless hours only to be awoken by the announcements. To her dismay, people were dead. No one she was close to, not that she could genuinely call anyone at school her friend. Still, she did notice that no one sounded like the girl who died in front of them. Chiara felt a bit unnerved by that. Was the girl still alive? Maybe she passed out. If so, then they just robbed her. She was probably truly dead now, and it was possibly hers and Derek's fault for doing so.
But Chiara didn't have long to dwell on it. There was a much more pressing matter for them to deal with. Despite her attempt to treat him, Derek's finger was a lost cause. It had to be removed if he was to survive. Derek had telegraphed it to her, but Chiara was still a bit shocked at what she was being asked to do. However, she agreed to do so. It was for his sake, and she couldn't let him suffer. They couldn't do much for that girl yesterday, so she had to be able to do this for him at least.
Chiara had taken to sanitizing her hands with the hand sanitizer from the first aid kit. She also wiped down the knife they took from the girl. Derek's sword was too large to use, and shooting it off would be risky and reckless. She had made sure there were plenty of bandages and alcoholic wipes nearby for this process.
Chiara looked over Derek. It wasn't enough to prep for the removal. She had to get him ready too. Chiara had grabbed Derek's jacket and folded it a bit. She then asked him to close his eyes as she wrapped it around his face. She tied the sleeves of the jacket over his eyes, then rotated it so it would at least cover his face a bit. She then lifted the back of the jacket and opened his mouth. Chiara pulled out a packet of tissues she had had packed in her bag. She slipped the plastic covered mound of tissues into his mouth, making a gag.
She lowered the back of the jacket and looked over Derek. She then looked down at his hand.
It was time.
Chiara lifted his hand off the table and began to unwrap the bandages.
Even with the bed, Chiara could barely sleep that night. She had collapsed on the bed from the sheer exhaustion of the day and fell asleep, but it wasn't like she could peacefully drift off. Derek being attacked in the woods, the girl dying in the other room, memories of the briefing all flooded into her mind. It was a horrible night's sleep. Even with the assurance of the desk in the way, Chiara had that worry in the back of her mind that someone could burst in.
But no one did. She eventually drifted off after a few restless hours only to be awoken by the announcements. To her dismay, people were dead. No one she was close to, not that she could genuinely call anyone at school her friend. Still, she did notice that no one sounded like the girl who died in front of them. Chiara felt a bit unnerved by that. Was the girl still alive? Maybe she passed out. If so, then they just robbed her. She was probably truly dead now, and it was possibly hers and Derek's fault for doing so.
But Chiara didn't have long to dwell on it. There was a much more pressing matter for them to deal with. Despite her attempt to treat him, Derek's finger was a lost cause. It had to be removed if he was to survive. Derek had telegraphed it to her, but Chiara was still a bit shocked at what she was being asked to do. However, she agreed to do so. It was for his sake, and she couldn't let him suffer. They couldn't do much for that girl yesterday, so she had to be able to do this for him at least.
Chiara had taken to sanitizing her hands with the hand sanitizer from the first aid kit. She also wiped down the knife they took from the girl. Derek's sword was too large to use, and shooting it off would be risky and reckless. She had made sure there were plenty of bandages and alcoholic wipes nearby for this process.
Chiara looked over Derek. It wasn't enough to prep for the removal. She had to get him ready too. Chiara had grabbed Derek's jacket and folded it a bit. She then asked him to close his eyes as she wrapped it around his face. She tied the sleeves of the jacket over his eyes, then rotated it so it would at least cover his face a bit. She then lifted the back of the jacket and opened his mouth. Chiara pulled out a packet of tissues she had had packed in her bag. She slipped the plastic covered mound of tissues into his mouth, making a gag.
She lowered the back of the jacket and looked over Derek. She then looked down at his hand.
It was time.
Chiara lifted his hand off the table and began to unwrap the bandages.
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DerArknight
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The plastic in Derek's mouth reminded him of his old sport shoes.
The exact year eluded him, for his early childhood was not something he fondly remembered. But he still knew that one week, both of his parents refused to buy or make any food as some sort of protest. While the two could eat outside, Derek was left with the remains in the fridge.
Somewhere around the fifth day, the fridge had been empty. In his fear, little Derek had tried to nibble on his second pair of shoes, remembering a few kids at school talking about someone having eaten a shoe before. He managed around three bites before it all came to light again.
Thankfully, he would not have to eat this pack of tissues. He just had to bite down hard enough to drown out the screams. Their endeavour would be hard enough without visitors.
As the girl finished the preparations they had agreed on beforehand, Derek's vision got obstructed. A small shiver ran down his spine. If she decided to stab him in the back in this very moment, Derek wouldn't even see it coming.
No. If she wanted, she could have shot him a few times ago. No need to worry about shadows.
Somewhere beyond the darkness, his hand got picked up and freed.
Derek gulped, expecting the worst.
The exact year eluded him, for his early childhood was not something he fondly remembered. But he still knew that one week, both of his parents refused to buy or make any food as some sort of protest. While the two could eat outside, Derek was left with the remains in the fridge.
Somewhere around the fifth day, the fridge had been empty. In his fear, little Derek had tried to nibble on his second pair of shoes, remembering a few kids at school talking about someone having eaten a shoe before. He managed around three bites before it all came to light again.
Thankfully, he would not have to eat this pack of tissues. He just had to bite down hard enough to drown out the screams. Their endeavour would be hard enough without visitors.
As the girl finished the preparations they had agreed on beforehand, Derek's vision got obstructed. A small shiver ran down his spine. If she decided to stab him in the back in this very moment, Derek wouldn't even see it coming.
No. If she wanted, she could have shot him a few times ago. No need to worry about shadows.
Somewhere beyond the darkness, his hand got picked up and freed.
Derek gulped, expecting the worst.
Chiara continued to slowly remove the bandages. The more she removed, the darker the bandages got from the blood. Chiara tried to regulate her breathing as she continued this action. Each bandage removed only exposed more of the necrosis and the sight of what needed to be cut through.
Chiara paused for a moment and closed her eyes. She had agreed to help Derek with this, so she had to go through with it. She wasn't sure if she could ask him to do the same if it happened to her. Not because she didn't trust that he would, but moreso because she wasn't sure she could find the nerve to ask him to cut off her finger.
After a moment, Chiara had resumed her removal, then finally had the bandages off. She felt sick looking at the remains of his finger hanging onto his hand. She tried to swallow down any potential stirring to vomit. She was sure she couldn't keep it entirely down, but that had to wait.
Chiara put his hand back down on the table and spread his fingers away from the ring finger. She found it annoying the ring finger couldn't be really kept apart from the others, but she had enough of a gap.
She then glanced over to the knife. It was almost time to go.
Chiara paused for a moment and closed her eyes. She had agreed to help Derek with this, so she had to go through with it. She wasn't sure if she could ask him to do the same if it happened to her. Not because she didn't trust that he would, but moreso because she wasn't sure she could find the nerve to ask him to cut off her finger.
After a moment, Chiara had resumed her removal, then finally had the bandages off. She felt sick looking at the remains of his finger hanging onto his hand. She tried to swallow down any potential stirring to vomit. She was sure she couldn't keep it entirely down, but that had to wait.
Chiara put his hand back down on the table and spread his fingers away from the ring finger. She found it annoying the ring finger couldn't be really kept apart from the others, but she had enough of a gap.
She then glanced over to the knife. It was almost time to go.
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DerArknight
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Derek relaxed, allowing his hand to be moved like a marionette. He felt warm fingers caressing his wound. No cold metal yet.
"To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive" was a quote Derek had read somewhere. And indeed, he agreed. There was no pleasure like anticipation. The anticipation of the future, once they were out of this room, with their business concluded.
He waited in not-so-pleasing anticipation of the first cut.
"To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive" was a quote Derek had read somewhere. And indeed, he agreed. There was no pleasure like anticipation. The anticipation of the future, once they were out of this room, with their business concluded.
He waited in not-so-pleasing anticipation of the first cut.
Chiara slowly reached over to the knife. It couldn't have weighed that much, but it felt extremely heavy in her hand. She was really about to mutilate her peer in order to save him from gangrene. Part of her was starting to wonder if the finger would fall off on its own, then she wouldn't have to do it.
But no, she was out of excuses or hope something else would happen. This needed to be done.
Chiara shifted the knife in her hand so the blade was pointing down at Derek's hand. She moved the tip of the blade into the table. This should be a quick process. She was just cutting paper for an art project. That's all it was.
But even then, Chiara couldn't bring it down quite yet. She just stared at the set up.
But no, she was out of excuses or hope something else would happen. This needed to be done.
Chiara shifted the knife in her hand so the blade was pointing down at Derek's hand. She moved the tip of the blade into the table. This should be a quick process. She was just cutting paper for an art project. That's all it was.
But even then, Chiara couldn't bring it down quite yet. She just stared at the set up.
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DerArknight
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...
...
...
Waiting turned out to be a torturous endeavor.
Derek almost got worried. Was his hand worse than imagined?
But just as he considered speaking up...
...
...
Waiting turned out to be a torturous endeavor.
Derek almost got worried. Was his hand worse than imagined?
But just as he considered speaking up...
Chiara shut her eyes closed as hard as she could, then moved the knife through.
She felt resistance, but tried to apply more weight.
She was sure she made it through, but she couldn't open her eyes yet. Even with what she could hear from Derek.
She felt resistance, but tried to apply more weight.
She was sure she made it through, but she couldn't open her eyes yet. Even with what she could hear from Derek.
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DerArknight
- Posts: 485
- Joined: Sat Mar 06, 2021 10:52 am
Derek Caldwell and pain was a combination that went way back.
In his first year in elementary school, he tried to calm down his parents in the middle of a shouting match that seemed especially bad. Before Derek could get a whole sentence in, one of them swatted him away like an annoying fly, sending him to the ground. The hit and fall hadn't even hurt so much. What had hurt was how Lucas and Frederika never noticed their son was bleeding, too occupied with their argument.
In his first year of middle school, the class bully decided that the gloomy guy who barely spoke was a good target. On day one, Derek got hurt. On day two, he brought the closest thing to a blunt weapon he dared to take to school with him and got the bully to meet where no teacher would watch them. It was a painful experience for both parties, and Derek got avoided after that by both bullies and potential friends. At least everyone involved abided by the unspoken rule to not tell any adults.
In his first year of highschool, the five words "He is not your boy" destroyed any remaining respect he had towards his parents. And in his own ability to always handle his temper.
None of those moments could compare to the knife slashing into his hand in this very moment.
"HHHHNNNNGGGGGRRRRR!!!!"
A searing wave shot up his arm, ripping through to his brain which felt like it was being electrocuted. Derek bit down on the pack of tissues hard enough to break through the plastic, his tongue now tasting a bit of tissue as well. It was an ugly aftertaste, a side dish to this feast of agony.
His left hand was still resting on the table, turned into a fist so hard that his fingernails drew blood. Beforehand, they had determined that him tapping on the table with his left hand would be the safeword to stop immediately, but he was not planning on using it. Even if he would have wanted to, he was too occupied with keeping his right hand still.
Just like his previous meetings with pain, this too would pass.
In his first year in elementary school, he tried to calm down his parents in the middle of a shouting match that seemed especially bad. Before Derek could get a whole sentence in, one of them swatted him away like an annoying fly, sending him to the ground. The hit and fall hadn't even hurt so much. What had hurt was how Lucas and Frederika never noticed their son was bleeding, too occupied with their argument.
In his first year of middle school, the class bully decided that the gloomy guy who barely spoke was a good target. On day one, Derek got hurt. On day two, he brought the closest thing to a blunt weapon he dared to take to school with him and got the bully to meet where no teacher would watch them. It was a painful experience for both parties, and Derek got avoided after that by both bullies and potential friends. At least everyone involved abided by the unspoken rule to not tell any adults.
In his first year of highschool, the five words "He is not your boy" destroyed any remaining respect he had towards his parents. And in his own ability to always handle his temper.
None of those moments could compare to the knife slashing into his hand in this very moment.
"HHHHNNNNGGGGGRRRRR!!!!"
A searing wave shot up his arm, ripping through to his brain which felt like it was being electrocuted. Derek bit down on the pack of tissues hard enough to break through the plastic, his tongue now tasting a bit of tissue as well. It was an ugly aftertaste, a side dish to this feast of agony.
His left hand was still resting on the table, turned into a fist so hard that his fingernails drew blood. Beforehand, they had determined that him tapping on the table with his left hand would be the safeword to stop immediately, but he was not planning on using it. Even if he would have wanted to, he was too occupied with keeping his right hand still.
Just like his previous meetings with pain, this too would pass.
Chiara continued to saw through flesh and bone. She tried to imagine that she was cutting up a chicken or something else, but that thought was quickly expelled due to the reality of the situation. She could feel her hand starting to get wet with Derek's blood as he thrashed a bit.
Finally, Chiara continued to saw until she looked down and saw the finger severed off his hand and the blood pooling on the table.
"Gesù Cristo!" Chiara shouted, her voice loud and her Italian accent thick.
She dropped the knife and quickly moved to get the medical supplies. She had to do this next part quickly.
Finally, Chiara continued to saw until she looked down and saw the finger severed off his hand and the blood pooling on the table.
"Gesù Cristo!" Chiara shouted, her voice loud and her Italian accent thick.
She dropped the knife and quickly moved to get the medical supplies. She had to do this next part quickly.
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DerArknight
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One last tug, and Derek heard the knife hitting the desk top. He somehow felt lighter now, but seeing how his finger had already died, this was pprobably just a placebo effect.
Her sudden shout made him flinch. Especially since she had talked so little that Derek was unsure if a third person hadn't apppeared.
Anyway, he couldn't take the darkness any longer. With one quick motion, the jacket came off.
The table looked like a mess of red and bandages. His finger was indeed cut off, sitting in a small pool of blood.
Meanwhile, the girl had readied the goddamn alcohol wipes to disinfect the wound.
It was not over.
Her sudden shout made him flinch. Especially since she had talked so little that Derek was unsure if a third person hadn't apppeared.
Anyway, he couldn't take the darkness any longer. With one quick motion, the jacket came off.
The table looked like a mess of red and bandages. His finger was indeed cut off, sitting in a small pool of blood.
Meanwhile, the girl had readied the goddamn alcohol wipes to disinfect the wound.
It was not over.
Chiara quickly grabbed the alcohol wipes and began to wipe them on the wound. She was so stressed by the field surgery that she hadn't even bothered to prepare Derek for the pain from alcohol wipes. It wasn't until she made contact that she realized that was a bad idea.
"Oh god, oh god," she quietly muttered.
Chiara simply continued to work. She had to get the wound cleaned before they could get bandages on.
She felt a tear start to fall down her cheek. The carnage on the table was pretty gruesome and Derek's reactions were stressing her out further. At this point, Chiara wasn't sure if she would ever feel this stressed again.
"Oh god, oh god," she quietly muttered.
Chiara simply continued to work. She had to get the wound cleaned before they could get bandages on.
She felt a tear start to fall down her cheek. The carnage on the table was pretty gruesome and Derek's reactions were stressing her out further. At this point, Chiara wasn't sure if she would ever feel this stressed again.
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DerArknight
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Just like back in the woods, the alcohol felt at least as painful as the actual damage. This time, the girl seemed affected as well. But she held on.
Derek did the same.
Pain was always a shitty thing to feel. A dark reminder of how fragile, how weak he was. But if his previous meet&greets with pain had taught him one thing, then it was that pain was temporary. It hurt for the moment and sometimes many moments more, but eventually it would pass and be gone.
This pain too would pass, no matter how it felt in the moment.
The swipes did their work, and Derek's hand was still red, but appeared slightly more presentable.
Now for the bandages.
Derek did the same.
Pain was always a shitty thing to feel. A dark reminder of how fragile, how weak he was. But if his previous meet&greets with pain had taught him one thing, then it was that pain was temporary. It hurt for the moment and sometimes many moments more, but eventually it would pass and be gone.
This pain too would pass, no matter how it felt in the moment.
The swipes did their work, and Derek's hand was still red, but appeared slightly more presentable.
Now for the bandages.
Once Chiara felt she had disinfected the wound enough, she began to bandage Derek's hand. At this point, she was working on autopilot, wrapping around his remaining fingers to cover the wound. She tried to find a steady rhythm for her breathing, hoping to match each inhale and exhale with each wrap she added to his hand.
Chiara sniffled, trying to brush hair out of her face by flicking her head. The process was almost done. Derek would have nine fingers, and they'd be able to move on. They had to be able to. Otherwise, they'd be standing over a bloody table until the world ended.
Finally. Chiara finished wrapping and set Derek's hand down.
"It's done," she whispered.
Chiara sniffled, trying to brush hair out of her face by flicking her head. The process was almost done. Derek would have nine fingers, and they'd be able to move on. They had to be able to. Otherwise, they'd be standing over a bloody table until the world ended.
Finally. Chiara finished wrapping and set Derek's hand down.
"It's done," she whispered.
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DerArknight
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And indeed, it did pass.
Not completely, of course. Derek was missing three fingers now, and he would most likely feel it forever. But with the hand mummified once more, he could at least tell himself that the worst was over. For now.
Exasperated, he leaned on his left arm, careful to not touch the lake of blood that was slowly spreading on the table.
Once again, the girl had helped him immensely. Albeit Derek had to admit that he never learned her name. And asking now, when they had spent so much time together, would have been awkward. He supposed he waited for too long to bring up the topic.
But there was something he still could say.
"Thanks. For Everything."
((Derek Caldwell continued in I'm a Derek and Dereks don't run!))
Not completely, of course. Derek was missing three fingers now, and he would most likely feel it forever. But with the hand mummified once more, he could at least tell himself that the worst was over. For now.
Exasperated, he leaned on his left arm, careful to not touch the lake of blood that was slowly spreading on the table.
Once again, the girl had helped him immensely. Albeit Derek had to admit that he never learned her name. And asking now, when they had spent so much time together, would have been awkward. He supposed he waited for too long to bring up the topic.
But there was something he still could say.
"Thanks. For Everything."
((Derek Caldwell continued in I'm a Derek and Dereks don't run!))