The rain was hitting the window softly as Jason sat on the edge of his girlfriend's bed. The sound of the drops creating a steady rhythm seemed to soothe the pain he felt in his body, though his wounds told another story. His torn shirt was on the floor, and every time his girlfriend passed a wet fart over a wound, he held his breath, trying not to show how much discomfort it caused him.

She worked quietly, focused and delicate, her brow furrowed as she inspected every cut and bruise. Her hands were gentle, but firm. Though he was loath to admit it, there was something comforting about that closeness, the way she cared for him with a mix of patience and concern.

“You don’t have to do this every time,” Jason murmured, breaking the silence.