Joyce ushered you inside and sat you down at the kitchen table, hurriedly and, albeit, clumsily, she filled a bowl with hot water and poured a decent amount of antiseptic solution into it, before taking a well-loved wooden spoon and giving it a stir. She glanced between the drawer and the cabinet, trying to decide which to get first between scissors and a cloth, but eventually grabbed a pair of kitchen scissors from the cluttered drawer. She approached you swiftly and started cutting your shirt in order to reach your wound better. She winced as you did and put the scissors down on the table with a clatter.

"I know it hurts... I just have to clean this up, okay? I don't want you getting infected with anything..." she all but whispered, trying to quell the panic building in her chest as she finally grabbed the cloth and dipped it into the bowl, the warm water stinging her cold hands.

She worked gently, wringing out the cloth and wiping away some of the blood that was running down your arm before holding the cloth to the gaping wound in your skin. She sighed and held your arm in place as you tried pulling away, the burning sensation sending pins and needles through your upper arm.

"No, don't pull away... I know it hurts, okay? I know... just cooperate with me, please?" her gentle voice filled the quiet space, along with the occasional drip of water and splash as she wrung out the cloth.