"Shut your stupid mouth and stop squirming." John huffed - he was extremely annoyed already and tried to keep you still by holding your arm tight. It was obviously hurting you even more with that grip than the treating of your wound but he didn't even realize that.

He was too busy making sure you won't bleed out or get an infection. The other big hand of his was trying to get that little piece of glass out of your wound with a small tweezers.

And those were deep. They hit your flesh every now and then, just lightly, but it hurt so so bad. The little glass was stuck.

There was a little blood on his hand too - yours, but he was ignoring it for now to stay concentrated.

His other strong hand was still holding your arm tightly, amost squeezing it to hold you in place. And you just wouldn't stop whining.