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ミ☆ chapter twelve; doomsday is close at hand
☾
Claire downed a second pill, washing it down with water. She was currently in the bathroom, rushing herself so she and Ethan could be on their way to the rest of the friend group in time.
They found a gas station just about five minutes from the abandoned theater, stopping by there just to get Claire bandaged up as well as getting her wound cleaned before it worsened.
Claire had soaked her entire shirt in water as soon as they got there, so it was currently drying, meanwhile Ethan had been holding the clear bottle of rubbing alcohol, unscrewing the cap for what felt like an eternity.
The twin closed her eyes when Ethan stepped closer to her, positioning himself in between her legs with his eyes on the open wound. The injury already stung enough, and she knew alcohol wouldn't grant her any favors.
"Make it quick," Claire told him, her hand instinctively gripping onto his shoulder to brace herself for the pain. She leaned onto the mirror in front of the sink, hoping to grant some rest to her other arm that was being held up by a sling.
The stinging sensation of liquid running down her wound was bad, but it was nothing compared to when Ghostface had their nails digging deep into her stitches mercilessly, which is what she thought about the entire time the alcohol was in contact with her punctured skin.
"Sorry," Ethan mumbled guiltily, frowning at the facials she made that displayed just how much pain she was in.
Claire didn't say anything back, squeezing Ethan's shoulder even more. If anything, she was sorry. She had a very tight grip.
His cold hand made contact with her waist as he attempted to prevent her from moving anymore than necessary. The boy's thumb caressed her brown skin, hoping to bring a sense of comfort that would distract her from the feeling.
Because Lord knows, that'd be the least amount of pain he was likely going to have to cause her that day.
A deep sigh escaped her lips when the feeling of a cloth disappeared from her side. The girl reached to the side of the sink, picking up the wrapping and handing it to Ethan.
"Tell me if it's too tight," Ethan spoke quietly. He took the dressing, pressing the start of the roll to her stomach. Claire held it to keep it in place, and the boy wrapped it gingerly around her torso.
She made a face that made Ethan pause out of concern. "Is it too tight?"
"Yeah, but it's supposed to be," Claire informed, gesturing for him to continue. "Wouldn't wanna bleed out before we get there."
