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Carter grips the sheets tight, swallowing a moan when his muscles disapprove. He wants that, he does, but he feels selfish for it. Casey is probablydeadnow. The least Carter can do is suck it up and take this. He deserves the pain. He deserves worse than the pain.
This is all his fault.
He ruined everything.
"Do you want the morphine, little one?" Benny asks again.
"N-no, sir."
"Okay." There's some rustling from Benny's position on the bed as he digs in his bag. Carter can feel the heavy thud of things being set down on the mattress beside his leg. "This is going to hurt like a bitch, but I'll try to do it quickly."
Carter has just enough time to register the words before something is being poured over his left thigh. He shrieks, the sound taking enough energy from him that he sags into the mattress after, struggling to keep his eyes open. White dots float inside his eyelids. His body isn't jerking anymore. Jerking would require sudden stops between the movements. It's doing something else now. Vibrating, almost. Like a part of him is trying to escape this plane of existence altogether.
Benny is speaking again, his tone low and soothing. There's the sound of paper ripping and the pressure of something being pressed hard against his thigh. A sharp antiseptic scent fills the air. When he breathes it into his lungs, it burns something fierce.
The process repeats, this time on his ass cheek. Carter bites down on the blanket this time. He doesn't want to be an annoyance to Benny. If this is the man treating his wounds with gentle kindness, he doesnotwant to find out what the angry version would be like.
Carter’s mind drifts eventually. It doesn't go somewhere fuzzy or safe, though. It goes to a place like his dream the other night. Somewhere cold anddark, dark, dark.Casey's sobs echo in the air. Sir is nowhere to be found. Maison is disgusted with him. Carter is choking on invisible daffodils.
Will sir come for him this time? Will he save Carter? Will he forgive him?
Does Carter even deserve to be forgiven?
After a very long time, or maybe no time at all, Benny finishes. He says something about sir putting the gel on Carter's front later. Something about the skin there being less injured. He runs fingers through Carter's hair and convinces him to drink something from a straw. It's sweet and cold. His body hums with relief the moment of his first swallow.
Benny wipes the tears from his face with a cloth before pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead. He says something about going to get ice packs. Says something about Carter going to sleep. Something about him being a good boy.
But Carter'snota good boy.
Sirsaid.
"Are you gonna see him?" Carter suddenly asks just as Benny is about to leave. He blames the fog of pain for his loose tongue. Mostly because he can't blame himself anymore. His load of guilt is too full.
"Who?"
"Sir."
"Oh." Benny tugs at his tie. "Yes. Most likely."
"Can you tell him somethin' for me?" Carter asks, hoping his words aren't as slurred as they feel rolling off his tongue. This is too important.
Benny frowns, but he also nods. "Sure."
"Will you tell him 'm sorry? 'M real sorry."
Benny gives him a smile that seems sad, even though Carter has no idea what the man has to be sad about. "Of course. Just try to get some rest, now. I'll be back with your ice packs soon."
"Okay." Carter swallows hard, tears burning his eyes again. Unless he never stopped crying. There's a chance he never even stopped. It's just that he's now noticing the sensation again. "Sir?"
Benny sighs heavily, making Carter immediately regret his entire existence. "What do you need?"
"'M sorry," Carter murmurs into the blankets, closing his eyes like a child trying to hide from a monster. "N'ver min'."
"No, little one. Say whatever you needed to say."
Carter curls in on himself as much as he can before his body forces him to stop. "Just, um," he pauses, struggling for a lie. "Thank you. For - for the help, sir."
"Oh. Sure. Of course."
