SHIT SHIT SHIT • Bleeding, O

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[align=center][size=8pt]TW for sad animal abuseish


Trevor had been trying out a new way to seal wounds; of course he'd...had nobody to practice on so he'd had to grab a poor little cat he'd found outside. It was for the good of mankind, he told himself as he'd strapped the poor cat down. The cat's probably got fleas. It might have mange. It's all... It's fine.

"D-damn it," he whispered under his breath, in his little shack of a home that he bottled himself up in in order to keep away from others. An old, partially sharpened scalpel in his hands, he moved to make a cut, hoping that it wouldn't hurt the cat too much.

As he'd pressed into the skin of the cat, it yowled and he flinched, tears flowing down his face and pain suddenly stinging up the palm of his other hand. "Shit," he shouted, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated over and over, now trembling frantically. He managed to unbelt the poor cat and let it out, but he had a gash in his hand a centimeter thick and through the fat portion of where his thumb was. "D-d-damn it," he whispered, unable to see straight through all of his tears.

[DYLAN,]

[align=center][div style="text-align: justify; width:450px;font-size:9.3pt; line-height:15px; color:black;"][font=arial]The sound of a cat yowling was enough to make Dylan take a U-turn. It was possibly just a pair of cats fighting it out over the last piece of trash, but you never knew, not in this city. As he rounded the corner he spotted Trevor and a curious look flashed across his face -- whenever Trevor was around, so was blood. "Hey Trevor." Called the brown-haired Councilman as he crossed the empty street towards the grunt. Once he was closer, the scent of metallic blood and the crimson sight hit his senses. "Shit. How'd that happen?"

// sorry its kinda rushed!!

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[align=center][size=8pt]Trevor's entire body flinched, shuttering into a bit of a tremor as he held his hand to his chest. Oh no. No, no. He couldn't tell them he'd tried to cut open a cat. They'd think he was a horrible person. Tears still streaming down his face and his eyes a puffy red, and kept his thumb over his cut, trying to get it to start to scab or stop bleeding at least. "I-I, uh. I just, um...c-cut my ha-hand on some....er, some....something sharp..." his voice had lowered as he spoke into a whisper, his eyes dropping to avoid looking at Dylan in even the slightest. If there was any comparison to Trevor's look right now, it was a dog who went through the trash and knew he was in for it.

[charlie luciano]

CHARLIE "LUCKY" LUCIANO

won't stop 'till we're legend — BIOGRAPHY

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Like Dylan, the piercing shriek slicing through the air had caused Charlie to stop in his tracks. He was one street over, not quite as close to the shack, but it was still so quiet throughout the city that even the quietest noises could travel through the wind like particles of dust. The noise sounded like an animal, or maybe a weird-sounding person. Deciding to spend time investigating, Charlie crossed the street and rounded the corner, now walking down the street towards the shack where he caught a glimpse of two figures- Dylan and that other guy. Trevor, was it? Charlie's brow slightly furrowed as his attention was drawn to Trevor's bleeding hand. "You'd betta' hurry up 'n get that wrapped." He suggested, glancing from Dylan and back to Trevor. He was no medic by any means, but he knew the dangers of infection, especially in this world. The other couldn't afford to get sick- nobody could. Their supply count was running low as it was, and they needed as many healthy people as they could find if they were going to survive for much longer.

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#psychosocial.

[DYLAN,]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 500px; color: black; line-height:115%; text-align: justify; margin-top: 5px;"][font=arial]"That's a nasty cut." Dylan observed with a raise of his eyebrows. He'd had his fair share of cuts and scrapes throughout the years but this one looked bad, good thing he had his backpack with him. The brown-haired boy shrugged off the black bag from his shoulders and unzipped it with a steady hand. He handed a wad of bandage towards Trevor with a tiny smile. "Here, I don't have any cleaning shit but that should soak up some blood, right?" He hoped so. Damn, maybe he should have listened to his mother and sister more closely when they spoke medical to each other.

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[align=center][size=8pt]Trevor's eyes immediately snapped into a defensive glare as he heard Charlie's approaching words. He tensed, his teeth grinding into the insides of his cheeks as he flushed. "I. Know," he said through his teeth, looking ready to yell at him. He wasn't stupid. He wasn't an idiot. He knew this. They were stupid. They didn't know anything. Trevor found himself looking desperately for that cat he'd cut open, wishing he hadn't let it go. He was smarter than them, he had the right to cut open animals and test out ways to help people. Because he was smart.

The signs of Trevor leaning towards triggering into a fit were usually very clear but very subtle. Anyone looking for them would see it. Grinding teeth, tense, flitting eyes and an odd, spaced out look in his eyes. All the same, he answered Dylan. He wasn't stupid. "I. Know," he puffed, watching him take off his backpack and frowning at the bandaging. He had bandages. All the same, he took the wad with shaking fingers and used his teeth to tear off a scrap of it to press to his hand instead of his other fingers. At least they were sanitized fingers. Staring down at his hand, he handed the bandages back. He could....

He could use his hand instead of the cat. The thought made chills run down his spine. He shifted, uncomfortable around the two obviously stronger men. "Um, thanks," he whispered, sounding a bit hasty.