Bruised

05.

Natalie sat in the office chair, resisting the urge to stand up and reorganise the shelves for the fifth time. She tapped a pen against her maths homework sitting open on the table in front of her. She'd checked the answers three times now. She was sure they were right.

Maybe she'd check them again—just to be sure.

She finished her homework an hour ago and finished cleaning and restocking the nurse's supplies fifteen minutes ago. She was sure at this point she'd memorised everything in the room.

Three opened boxes of band-aids. Five ice packs. Five hot water bottles. Three chairs. One kettle.

Natalie wanted to count them again.

It had been almost two weeks since she'd last seen Leon. She wondered if he'd even shown up at school—not that she'd ever ask her mum something like that.

Each day, she would come to this tiny room. She would clean and restock and do her homework and double-triple check her homework, secretly waiting for that knock on the door.

It never came.

She glanced at the clock, watching as it ticked closer and closer to the hour.

Soon, her mum would tell her it was time to go, and it'd just be another day without Leon Hughes appearing in her life.

It wasn't like she needed him. She'd only seen him a handful of times, and more often than not, their time together was spent in silence. Really, Natalie knew close to nothing about the boy.

She didn't need him.

She checked the clock again.

She was pathetic.

She ran a hand over her face and stood. She would recount the band-aids and make sure there was enough if the entire school got a paper cut tomorrow.

As soon as she stood, a knock came from the door.

She didn't think. She only held her breath and raced across the room to pull open the door, every step wishing, hoping it'd be—

"Leon." Her voice betrayed her.

He stared at her, his entire body slumping against the door frame.

Natalie sucked in a breath, her hand covering her mouth as she took him in. His face was bruised, worse than before. Fresh, reddish-brown bruises splattered over older, green-blue ones that rarely had the chance to heal. Grazes painted red over the bruises and his lip was busted open, sticky blood drying over his bottom lip.

She was amazed he was still standing.

"Can I come in?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Natalie nodded furiously, pulling the door open for him.

He limped inside, falling into a slouch in the nearest chair. Natalie took her time closing the door, taking this opportunity to look at him completely.

His face wasn't the only thing beaten up. His shirt had been torn and she recognised those patches of reddish-brown against the white of his shirt to be blood. Judging by the way he gripped his stomach; she knew there would be bruising across the skin there too.

She felt queasy, almost lightheaded. Her eyes kept flickering back to his bloody lip and she thought she might faint. She could feel her own mouth throbbing, as if she'd been punched herself.

"Let me call the nurse," she muttered. This was out of her ability. He needed real help.

Leon's hand darted out, grabbing her wrist. He met her eye, shaking his head, just barely, wincing as he did so.