You're standing outside of the emergency doctors office, but it closed thirty minutes ago. Your trousers seems to be stuck to your right thigh, like some kind of clue. Making the black jeans go red. You're wearing your dad's shirt, the one you stole from his closet a while back. The wind is caressing your face, but it isn't comforting. It's so dark, but you don't feel afraid, 'cause whatever the darkness hides, you've had worse. In the background of all your thoughts, the wind, and the desperation you can hear your dad talking on the phone. "Yes, she needs stitches." He goes quiet for a bit, "she did it to herself."
Before you get the chance to rethink what just happened, you're laying down, a bright light shining in your face, making it hard for you to keep your eyes open. You feel dizzy, listening to the doctor go "wow" again and again while looking up and down your arms. Butcher jokes slips his lips as he keeps poking you with the needle. Eventually it doesn't hurt anymore, and some time goes by, and you're left with twenty black little strings stuck to your arm. The doctor grabs your hand, and leads you over to the sink, start washing the red coloured liquid of your arm, stroking your skin carefully. Finally the colour of your skin is viewable again. Peachy.
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