The room was freezing yet Cyril found himself drenched in sweat, hands shaking as he pulled himself onto his feet. There was a panging sickness in his stomach as he looked around the barren room, nothing but a mattress stained with blood and something else he was uncertain the origin of on the floor, tucked away into a corner. The tile floor was cold against his bare feet but he didn’t care, stumbling into the hall of the building as he began gagging.
He doubled over, dry heaving as saliva dripped from his lips, little effort being made before he felt whatever contents of his stomach that were or weren’t there be puked up, splashing at the ground as he clung to the wall. Dizziness overtook his senses as he wiped away the vomit on his lips with the bottom of his shirt. With the contents of his stomach emptied onto the floor he felt more of his body seem to come alive, a pounding ache in his head just behind his right eye making his vision blurry.
Stumbling towards the bathroom, he could barely think about anything besides the pain in his head, in his eye. The tremors in his hands stopped being something he noticed as he opened the door, gripping onto the porcelain sink for support as he met his eyes in the mirror. He could barely make out anything besides the dark stain that covered the front of his shirt. It felt impossible for him to breathe as he realized how much of browning stain was still bright red, leaning into the sink he roughly ripped off his shirt.
He wasn’t able to speak before he noticed someone standing in the doorway, barely able to turn his head before the man standing there spoke.
“I didn’t expect you to be awake already.”
His words seemed muffled to Cyril, barely able to make sense of what was happening as he tried to respond, noises barely able to form as he stood there. Though, the moment didn’t last long as a scoff hit his ears, his arm grabbed as he was dragged to the bathtub.
“Sit,” he heard, a command, and so he did. Still looking up at the other, he tilted his head, feeling like he was swimming despite being on dry land.
“You look a mess. Couldn’t even clean that shit in the hall.”
“I was… I was gon-”
“Did I say you could speak?”
That made Cyril stop talking, his skin still feeling tacky from the sweat that covered him. At some point the tap behind him had been turned on, groaning in relief as he felt a rag dampened with cool water against his skin. He closed his eyes, leaning into William, the man who had interrupted him. Though, that didn’t last long before he felt the rag reach his chest, wiping away pooling blood and making him in hiss in pain. Instinctively, he jerked away from William’s hand, whimpering as his wrist was grabbed to steady him.
“Sit still. I’m not the one who reopened the wound,” Cyril heard hissed into his ear, making him grip his knees and accept the pain.
“It still- It hurts.”
There was a moment of silence after such a pitiful statement, Cyril feeling a hand run through his hair, gently parting tangles and scratching at his scalp. The motion was rather sweet for how he was usually treated, barely paying attention to the pain of the injury that spread across his chest. A Y-shaped cut going down to his navel, gently being cleaned yet such care didn’t stop the fact every touch sent waves of electric pain to his head, drowning out any proper thoughts.
Such a mixture of sensations left him almost unaware the other had finished giving him what amounted to a sponge bath. He felt William’s warm hands gently caress his face, a gentle kiss left on his lips.
“I’ll go get you a painkiller,” he whispered to Cyril, simply getting a dazed nod from him before his hands moved off his face, leaving Cyril forced to keep himself steady by himself.
It couldn’t have been much longer than five minutes, if that, when William had left Cyril alone, yet every second that ticked by felt like an eternity. The pain behind his eye, radiating like heat from his chest, his skin burning for the other’s touch once more. Yet, his desperate, silent pleas felt washed away as he listened to the still raging water behind him. Pouring from the faucet like a wound, it wouldn’t wash away what he had been an accessory to. Sins buried into his skin, as if they were always a part of him.
He didn’t notice when William had returned, or perhaps he did and simply chose to ignore it. It wasn’t like the distinction mattered much anyways. He felt his jaw drop as he was told to open his mouth, no reason to argue, several reasons to comply. Even if it wasn’t a painkiller, if it made him stop caring about the pain it was good enough.
The feeling of cold water hit his lips after the pill was placed on his tongue, barely thinking as he drank the almost sweet elixir William poured into his mouth. He could feel himself panting as the bottle was pulled away, whining quietly as if it were some kind of magic cure for his problems.
“Relax, you can have the rest in a second,” William’s tone was still so impatient yet felt so caring to Cyril. Perhaps the pain kept him delusional, as if the person who looked after him was bound to truly care about him. He heard the man’s sentence continue yet it ended up drowned out, no longer paying attention to his surroundings.
At some point he had begun standing, being escorted back to that barren room. At some point that vomit had been cleaned up, that was the only change Cyril noticed about the area. A minute one he only cared about because he had been scolded.
“Go get some more rest, I’ll talk to you in the morning,” he heard spoke to him before he received a gentle kiss against his temple.
The door to the room was shut and locked the moment he managed to stumble in, taking that as his cue to return to the blood soaked mattress kept lodged in a corner. He curled up without a second thought, regretting having woken up so soon.