Page 98 of Encounter

Grabbing the bottle, Chast unscrewed the top and offered it to me. “Drink,” he said, more of an order. I decided that I would rather do that than look at his pale, tired face for any longer, so I obeyed.

I held my breath and took two large sips, groaning in disgust.

Chast’s quiet chuckle was followed by another display of pain. The adrenaline must have been wearing off. How the hell did he not realize he was hurt?! I didn’t even want to think about whatjobhe was doing, or how the other guy ended up.

Snatching the bottle out of my hand, he took a sip too. He then rested his arms on the table and shifted the chair in a way that made space for me to kneel behind his back. “Put the gloves on.” I could tell he was getting tired, and all I could think about was shock, bleeding out, coma, him collapsing on the ground and dying. Even my hands trembled so much I barely managed to get them into the gloves—how the hell was I supposed to suture anything?!

“What now?” I asked, holding my hands over the table.

“Take this.” He moved the bottle of diluted iodine forward. “Flush it out with this, use the gauze to wipe it off. Make sure... there’s nothin’ stuck in the wound.”

“How many t-times have you d-done this?” I asked to prevent my destructive thoughts from consuming me.

“Many times, like I said.”

Kneeling behind him, I did as he asked while Chast barely showed any signs of weakness, like it was nothing to him. There wasn’t any debris in the wound—his shirt most likely prevented it. The bleeding wasn’t as horrible as I feared, but still a fair amount.

‘Fair amount?’ What the hell doyouknow about bleeding?! Your stupid little self-inflicted cuts are nothing compared to this.

I shook my head and closed my eyes.Keep it together. Have to keep it together.“W-What now?”

“Put some pressure on the wound for a bit.”

Flinching a little in a response, Chast steadied himself and I noticed he focused on his breathing while he propped up his head on the table with his hand.

“P-Please, be honest with me, are you... Are you going to be okay? What if—” God, I couldn’t help it—whining like some scared little kid.

Sighing, Chast shook his head. “I’ll live. I’ve bled longer and stronger before. I’m a big boy, alright?” Glancing at me briefly, I was surprised by the lightness of his expression.How in the hell ishethe one soothingme?! “This is all ‘cuz I got... fucking stupid!” He startled me as he hit the table with his fist. “First the fucking contractor forgets to mention the shit I was destroying was in a building full of goddamn Yakuza and then... Goddamn trash, trafficking women.”

All of those big words jumbled inside my mind.Yakuza?! Trafficking?And wasn’t it my fault he rushed? Wasn’t he distracted because of me?

Waiting for me to take it, Chast was trying to pass me the needle holders, as well as the sterile, single-use pack with a half-moon needle and suture already attached in it. Seeing how small it was, and realizing the gravity of the situation, I felt a wave of sweat passing over me, and a brief but intense urge to vomit.

I don’t know if I can do this, I wanted to say. Those words hung on my tongue; they fought to be let out through my quivering lips, but were eased when another sensation came through. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I tried to invoke what I felt when Chast kissed me—the silence and serenity of that moment.

Exhaling sharply, I grabbed what he was handing me and did my best to clasp the tiny needle in the metal holders. Flushing the wound again to clearly see the borders of it, I controlled my breathing as my hand inched toward Chast’s skin.

“It’s fine. Just... start from the edge. Go a lil deeper than the cut. Grab a bigger chunk of the skin and make sure you go all the way through to the other side.” After he said it, I couldn’t help but to stare at the open, bloody gash in front of me and endlessly imagine the needle going through it. The pain it would bring.

“Gale...” Chast locked eyes with me, voice soft and mellow. “You can do it. Just...” Sighing, he closed his eyes for a moment, and I wasn’t blind to how laborious it seemed for him to open them again. “Think about it like you’re takin’ care of your own cut, aight?” Opening my mouth, I blinked at him, taken back. “You do, I can tell. You’re the meticulous type. This is nothin’ bigger than that.”

He sounded like he really believed in me. Chast... needed me. “Okay,” I mouthed. I noticed the smile flashing over his dry lips before he turned back to rest on the table, and then I followed his step-by-step instructions.

The first stitch was the most important one. Tie forward once, backward once, repeat, repeat, repeat, making sure it’s tight. Don’t tie too tight.

Continue with the stitches—not too tight, not too loose.

Focus on your breathing. Focus on Chast’s voice.

In. Through the loop. In again. Clean the blood off. In. Loop.

Keep going.

Tie in the loop. Secure. Again. And finally—sanitize, dry, dress.

Done.

Dropping the instruments on the floor, I fell back—my legs achy and numb, neck tense, and glasses slipping off my nose from all the sweating—and let out a satisfied sigh.

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