Chapter 3

Luce

Everyone is gone. I am alone with Nathan once more.

I know he is tired but I ask anyway.

"Do you still want that haircut?"

"Fine"

This is all he says. His tone is indifferent.

"Okay," I answer simply. So I wheel him to our room in front of the mirror. Carefully taking a pair of scissors, I start cutting his hair.

I have been cutting his hair since the accident. At on point there was a particularly large shard of glass embedded just below the base of his neck. Though it was removed, there was still a large wound. As his hair grew longer it would get caught in the wound causing him great pain. He wouldn't let anyone else cut it, especially the nurses. They were clumsy and seemed to value their time over comfort.

I frown at the thought.

I finish quickly, after all I've had years of practice. Four years who would have thought? After bathing him I get him back to our room, help him dress, then help him into bed, before following suit. Sleep does not come immediately and I find myself lying awake for several minutes before at last dozing off.

I reach out my hand to touch the largest bandaged wound. He tenses as I gently lay a hand on it. I don't push or press it. I don't even dare to rest my hand on it, putting any weight. He sighs in relief. Glad, that I wont be pressing or prodding them anyway. I suppose, he's had enough of that from the nurses.

"Do they hurt?" I ask.

"Of course they do!" he snaps, and glares at me.

In hindsight, it was a pretty stupid question. I remember hearing from the nurses that he would wince at even the slightest touches, though.

"Does it hurt when I touch it?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment and I assume he isn't going to answer.

"Not when you touch it..." he answers softly.

He sounds less irritated now. Before all he did was scream and sob. Now he doesn't sob as much but I heard yelling yesterday when they were checking the wounds. I open my mouth to say something else but before I can several nurses rush in and throw me out. I can hear him shouting behind the door.

Eventually the nurses come out silently.

One of them reaches for me. I instantly step back out of her reach.

"You have to go in there and calm him down. We cant help him until he calms down. The fact that his hair keeps snagging doesn't make it any easier."

I sigh. "Fine, but don't come in until I say its okay."

"I don't take orders from you!" she hisses.

"Then I guess you don't want my help."

"We don't require your assistance!"

"That may be true, but you'll have a hell of time without it.."

At last she gives in. "Fine."

With a self satisfied smirk I enter the Nathan's room again. But my smile quickly dissolves when I see him. His bandages have been removed and I can see the broken and bleeding flesh that was once hidden underneath. He is shaking. The agonizing pain visible in his expression. I can see what the nurse meant about his hair. It has grown too long so that it has gotten caught in the wound I had laid a hand upon not long ago.

Taking a breathe I approach him cautiously, but he doesn't seem to register my presence.

"Hey."

His eyes focus on me. I push the hair off his face and hold it away.

"You look terrible."

I expect him to roll his eyes but I guess he lacks the energy.

"Thanks." he says sarcastically.

"You really should let someone cut it." I gesture to his hair.

"No."

"Why not?"

There is a temporary pause.

"They're clumsy. They always end up 'accidentally' touching one of the wounds."

I stand silently watching his breathing, lacking an answer.

After a little while I ask again.

"Are you sure?"

He groans in frustration, "I'd rather leave it than one of them try to cut it."

"It would help."

"...I don't want anyone else touching me." he finally says.

I back off, unaccustomed to arguing with Nathan. He reaches out and touches my clothes. I can see he is cold judging by the goose flesh on his body. I slowly rub his extended arm, hoping that even a little warmth might reach him. He makes a sound as if to tell me he appreciates the effort.

"Will you let me do it?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you let me cut it?"

"... Why?"

"The longer it gets the more it'll snag and cause you pain. I'll be careful."

"...Fine."

So I open the my bag sitting in the corner where I left it and take out a pair of dull safety scissors.

"Are these alright?"

He raises an eyebrow at my choice.

"You don't expect me to use surgical scissors do you?"

He nods in understanding then makes a little more room for me on the hospital bed so I can sit behind him. I oblige, sitting on my knees and run my fingers through his raven black locks.

"How short should I cut it?" I ask.

He tells me he doesn't care. Selfishly, I decide to only cut it short enough to avoid clinging to the wounds. Perhaps I might have chosen to cut it shorter if he didn't look so different. With everything that's happened it is the only thing that is the same about him now. I work slowly, cutting just a few centimetres across each time. I'd stop every few seconds, and then work on the next few centimetres. The silence had becomes too uncomfortable.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"Earlier you said that you'd dye your hair red after you got out of this 'God forsaken place,' as you put it, why?"

He shrugs then winces painfully. "Remember when they first brought me here and I was covered in Jake's blood?"

"...Yeah." I nod to myself, wondering where this is going.

"When he was hurt in the accident, it was like his life had literally poured out of him. Onto me. I remember that even my hair was dripping red. "

"Oh." I acknowledge, lacking a better response.

Behind him I grimace at the mention of the fateful night.

By then I had already gotten to the left side of his head and couldn't see the other side. I adjusted myself, and continued. We didn't say anything after that. Every bit of hair that fell landed on the sheets of the bed, or caught in the open wounds.

I started to wonder how I'd remove those without hurting him. I wondered how much it took to actually hurt him in the first place. I hadn't hurt him yet, but the nurses seemed to hurt him with every touch. How rough had they been?

After a few more minutes, I finished my first task.

"Can I brush it?"

"Yes."

"Can I wash it?"

He hesitates.

"Why?"

"It'll be easier to brush if all the rubbish gets washed out first."

When he didn't reply immediately, I begin to wonder if I should have told him that. Perhaps now he is going to take back his permission to brush it in the first place.

"Fine."

I get my way with everything after that. I tell him he'll feel better; that is always my argument. He keeps saying yes. He would have done anything to feel just a little bit better. Not only do I wash his hair, but the rest of him, too, after a bit of convincing. I manage to remove all the loose hair without hurting him too much, only earning a few winces. I get him to brush his teeth, which he actually jumps on as soon as I suggest it. When I'm done, I take a minute to try to even out his clean but now uneven hair. I didn't do the best job, but it looks decent enough. However the bed is now a mess and completely soaked.

"I'm going to go get someone to bring new sheets, okay?"

I could tell by his expression that he didn't want me to leave, but the ends justified the means, so I hurried off.

The nurses came in and quickly put him in a wheel chair, for the time being, while they changed out the sheets. The bed was still wet but you couldn't feel it though the new sheets. Then they got him back into bed. However, once they were done , they didn't leave. This made Nathan visibly nervous.

"They want to reapply your bandages now that you're all cleaned up. Is that okay?"

Again he hesitates.

"Don't worry. I promise they wont touch you after that."

At last he nods.

When they are finished they leave as quickly as they came. Nathan seems much more calm and relaxed now that everything is over. He is clean and no one is touching or hurting him. Instead something mutually beneficial has happened.

"Feeling better?" I ask, indulging a small smile.

"Mm."

Its not much of an answer but I can tell just by looking at him how much better he feels. He pulls his fingers through my hair, content.

I cant help but feel a little surprised that he is strong enough to do that even at this point. I notice he has purposely left room for me on the bed. I gingerly seat myself next to him, folding my legs beneath me. I see that he is still cold but I don't say or do anything. After some long exhausting silent minutes, Nathan collapses into my lap. I feel his arms wrap around my waist and hear him groan at the pleasure and pain of changing positions.

"I'm tired." he whispers.

"I know." I gently let my fingers brush through his hair, knowing the calming affect it has on him.

He falls asleep like that, weakly holding onto me. Soon even I begin to doze off, despite sitting upright. So I carefully lean back into the headboard trying not to jostle Nathan awake. Sleep overtakes me no sooner than that. I wake late in the night, with a lost sense of time and reality, and hear him whimpering beside me. My thoughts clouded and stuck in a dream, I do nothing but listen. The soft sounds should have been distressing, but they only served to lull me back to sleep.

I feel stupid for that, now. Guilty actually.