Dead Body

[Deamon]

((Aracelis Fuentes continued from My Brother's Keeper))

They'd returned to the houses in town, because of course they had. Neither of them had a real plan of where to go and getting away from the more claustrophobic environment of the research station seemed like the best bet they had. At least that could have been the subconscious reason. The truth was that both of them were moving on autopilot and they found themselves returning to the house Leslie had initially dragged Aracelis' unconscious body to. They hadn't spoken much on the way either, both feeling shell-shocked by what had happened and neither wanting to say something that caused a fight. They both knew better than to try and broach a subject when the other wasn't interested, or at least, had learned more pragmatism than to try and force things.

Aracelis was in the bathroom, unpeeling the layers of bandages from her face. Leslie had advised her not to look at what Bethany had done to her. Her wounds still occasionally stung when she moved her head or when a chill breeze hit her face. She knew she was down an eye, that was obvious, Leslie hadn't hidden that information from her. But the rest of the damage she had yet to take stock of. The bandages came unstuck from one another as her hand orbited her head and then fell from her face, landing partly in the sink and trailing onto the black, dust-stained floor.

The face that stared back at Aracelis was nearly unrecognizable, and against her better judgment, she wanted a better look. The skin was a mottled patchwork of deep red, blue and purple, along with the occasional patch of black where blood had congealed and scabbed over. Some patches of skin that had been ripped open by the metal of the pick axe had tried their best to reform and reconstruct themselves but it was a crude effort. As a result, there were discordant pieces, not properly fitting together. The attempt wasn't helped by the broken eyesocket and flattened cheekbone, Aracelis could see the skin pulling taut and hanging loose in all the wrong places, as if her bones had selected a dress that was the wrong size and length.

Where her eye should have been was a bloody pool. The eyeball itself may have been intact or part of it may have remained but Aracelis couldn't tell. If it was still there it no longer functioned, and she couldn't see it beneath the puddle of blood and fluid that had flooded her eye socket and dried up. She reached up with her right hand and poked at her still slightly swollen cheekbone and gently pressed her index and middle fingers into the shiny skin, letting out a hiss of pain when the feeling of a hundred wasp stings greeted her touch.

Tears welled up in her good eye and for a moment she imagined smashing the mirror and enjoying the relief it would bring. But she needed to be able to see herself to clean the wounds and reapply the bandages, so whatever relief it gave would have been short-lived. Instead, she opened up her first-aid kit and took some small pleasure in throwing away any medical supply wrappers or wipes she had already used, throwing them into the bath with all of the force she could generate. It made her feel a little bit better, but then she had to get down to the task at hand. Her wounds needed to be disinfected and rewrapped.

As she worked—occasionally pausing when the pain became too much—she thought about what she and Leslie would need to do. They had once again managed to get more supplies without having to actually do anything thanks to Molly leaving Lúcio's pack behind. Somehow they were very good at doing that. So that meant they didn't need to go out looking for someone to rob. Instead, they could take their time, explore their surroundings for anything useful and come up with a long-term plan.

Scouting around seemed like the best bet, Aracelis was sure there would be someone who had been killed or something that would have been left behind somewhere. She finished wrapping fresh bandages around her head and eye, making sure it was tight.

And if they found Molly, then that would have just been a bonus.

Aracelis threw the rest of the used supplies at the wall above the bath and then took one last look at the mirror, taking in her new, freshly bandaged face.

Her one good eye stared back at her.

Aracelis took in a breath.

Then she spat onto the glass reflection of her face and walked away.

((Aracelis Feuntes continued elsewhere...))