The boy turned over the first aid kit onto the counter, rifling through everything, “You don’t have sutures.”
“Like I said,” Justin sighed, leaning back against the bathtub, “you need a doctor; nobody keeps the stuff you need just lying around.”
For just a second he thought that those words would be enough to talk some sense into him; maybe if Justin got him to a hospital then he wouldn’t be his problem anymore. Although it appeared for just a second that the boy was considering it his lips had formed a tight line before he mumbled, “I can do without.”
He saw him push off the wall and approach the sink, daring to pull back the cloth only to find it was still bleeding. “You’re going to get yourself killed this way.” Justin mumbled.
“Why don’t you act a bit more like a hostage and stop whining about your captor’s safety?”
Justin leaned back, running his fingers through his blond hair, “Fine.”
“I’ll be out of your way soon enough.” He was dressing the wound up in bandages as thick as he could make them, probably hoping that their security would last him for a few hours or until he got to wherever he was headed. He had hardly tended to the burns on his arms until the point he started trying to bandage over them. They were far too raw and painful though and even this stone-faced person began to show some signs of having feelings of pain.
“You’ve got to put them in some cool water.” Justin said, trying to be helpful again.
“I don’t have the time for that.”
“It’s not like I’m going to stop you.” Justin mumbled, shutting his eyes. “You’re the one with the knife, after all. Just do what you need to do.”
Even when he said that the other seemed hardly enthusiastic about taking his time. His hands were shaking, sweat was pouring down his features and he seemed more and more anxious every time he couldn’t bandage something easily.
“There are painkillers in the cupboard if you want.” Justin added.