Claire

Claire helped the strange boy back onto the couch. Was she doing the right thing? It was one thing to say that he had a right to refuse help; it was something else to stand by and watch him bleed to death.

She wouldn't let it go that far. He'd agreed that she could take him in if he passed out. Which would happen, oh, any moment now from the look of him. Unconsciousness happened before death, definitely, so she could keep her promise and still make sure he survived. She wasn't sure what kind of long-term damage blood loss caused. She was just hoping the slight delay in getting him professional medical care wasn't going to cause him lifelong anemia or something.

The guys were still hesitant, which made sense because she was pretty hesitant herself. The only person who seemed certain of what they were doing was the kid. And, well. If she had metal bars forced through her wrists, she'd want them removed as soon as possible too. So, yeah. They'd already gotten one off, what could it really hurt to finish the job?

“Ready?” Jacob asked. He knelt in front of them with the rotary tool he'd used to cut through the first band.

Claire held out her hand to the boy, who rested his still bound wrist in her grip. He was still shaking, faintly. Not much of a shocker, that. If he wasn't nervous, he was still cold, likely in shock, and down at least two pints of blood. That would make anyone shaky.

“Ready,” Claire said after testing her grip and waiting for the boy's resolute nod. The faster they got this done, the faster they could work on convincing him to accept medical care before the passing out happened.

The tool hit the metal with a sound Claire knew wasn't actually demonic, but a close second for sure. It rattled her straight to her bones. From the look on the boy's face, he hated the sound too; and it had to be worse for him since the metal was around his wrists, the vibrations would be going straight up his arm. He never made a sound of complaint though.

What could make a person so stoic? Claire wasn't sure she wanted to know.

What happened next wasn't really anyone's fault. Jacob was trying so hard to be fast, he maybe was a little less than careful. Maybe there was a fault in the metal of the band, or in the cutting blade on the tool. Maybe a tensed muscle in the boy's arm or Claire's hand jerked at just the wrong moment. It was impossible to say. Regardless, there was an accident.

The tool glanced off of the metal of the band, at such an angle that it missed the boy entirely, thank goodness, and instead scraped along the back of Claire's hand. She yelped, because ouch. Jacob hit the kill switch at the exact moment Josh yanked the cord, stopping the tool before any real damage could be done.

The boy yanked his hand away, staring at Claire with wide, worried eyes.

“I'm fine,” she reassured everyone in the room, cradling her hand to her chest for a moment. “Let me just clean this out.” She resolutely did not look down. She hadn't lost a finger or anything, for pity's sake, it was just a cut. She'd check in a minute how deep of one. It might need stitches but she doubted it. Looking would make it start hurting and she wanted to put that off just a bit.

“Let me help,” Jacob said. “It's my fault.”

“It's really not,” Claire said. “but sure.”

Given that the tool worked by friction and had only glanced across her skin, she knew she wasn't looking at a very severe cut, but there might be some particles left behind from the tool. Getting those out would be annoying without an extra hand.

“We'll be right back,” Claire assured the other two.

The boy stared back at her, eyes wide. He looked from her face to her hand, and back.

“It's really okay,” Claire said. “We'll get that off of you in no time, sorry to delay.”

She walked away to the kitchen, Jacob in tow. She distantly heard Josh explaining to the boy how the tool worked and that it didn't so much cut as wear through materials and some technical stuff about rotation speed and disk roughness.

Jacob turned on the faucet and tested the water temperature, making sure it wasn't too hot or cold. Claire smiled in gratitude and then stuck her hand under the gentle flow of water. She let it run until the initial sting subsided, and then pulled her hand back.

She'd been right, it wasn't bad at all. It was really just a scrape. She showed Jacob, who still insisted on using his penlight to check for any bits of tool debris. If there were any, the water took care of it.

“See? Probably doesn't even need a bandage,” she said.

“I already got one out, though,” Jacob pouted.

“Okay, okay.” Claire let him apply the bandage and then turned back to the door. “Let's go finish the job.”

“Um. Maybe me or Josh should hold his hand, instead.”

“Why?”

“Well, there's some scary stuff going around. If any of his blood hits that cut...”

Claire looked down at her hand. There was no way his blood had touched the wound already. Right? He'd jerked away too fast, and the tool had barely grazed her.

“I'm sure it's fine. We can ask him about it later.”

“If you're sure,” Jacob said.

It was really too late to do anything if she was wrong. She'd be fine.

It turned out they didn't have to ask the boy about the possibility of blood-borne disease later because Josh had already brought it up.

“I don't want to offend you or anything,” Josh was saying. “I just worry. There's some scary stuff going around, you know?”

The boy nodded, calmly. “I promise you, I am as healthy as is possible given how much of my blood is redecorating your floor. Your friend has nothing to fear.”

Wow. Those were the most words she'd heard him speak yet.

“Good to hear,” Claire returned to his side. “Do you want to keep going? I think we're almost done.”

When she'd looked at the band there had been only a small sliver of metal left holding it together. It wouldn't take too long to break that, and then there was only the bar. A few more minutes work and he'd at least have those things off of him.

The boy looked from her to the guys, and back. He blinked a couple of times, and then finally spoke.

“I'd like to continue,” he said, “but there's no need to hold my hand. I can be still.”

“Are you sure?” Claire asked.

He nodded.

“Okay, then. I'll just get a towel and some bandages ready, then. Guys?”

Jacob was hesitant, shuffling his feet and fiddling with the rotary tool. He glanced at Claire. She nodded and smiled reassuringly. It was fine. They were so close, might as well finish the job, right? Besides, having just one manacle off seemed to have raised the kid's spirits.

Josh plugged the tool back in and grabbed the wire clippers. Claire gathered the first aid supplies and lined them up in easy reach while Jacob started the tool. She wanted to be ready. Improved morale or not, the kid had lost a lot of blood and was about to lose more. The faster she moved the better his chances.

Jacob turned on the tool, took a deep breath, and reached for the boy's wrist.

The boy held his arm out. He held it remarkably steady as the tool hit the metal with that now familiar ear-splitting shriek. His jaw tensed with determination, and although his other arm trembled and sweat broke out on his forehead he remained still.

Claire found herself holding her breath as that last, thin sliver of metal came free. The tool stopped, and Josh used the slight amount of space formed by cutting the band to fit the wire cutter in place. He glanced once at Claire, and then at the boy, and squeezed the handle. There was a snap.

Then Jacob had his hands on the manacle and Claire scrambled for the towel, ready to go. Jacob pulled, the boy gasped faintly. Claire wrapped the towel close and tried not to calculate just how much blood it took to dye the cloth that dark that fast.

It took too much blood, and she knew that.

Claire held the towel tight with one hand, the injured hand, and reached for the gauze and bandages with the other. She refused to even think about the pulsing, hot stinging sensation in the scrape. It was nothing. Less than a paper cut. They'd just yanked metal bars out from between this boy's wrist bones. And he hadn't squeaked. She was not going to complain about a scratch in the face of that. She'd never live it down, even just in her own mind.

She worked fast, switching the towel for the bandaging. She was proud of herself for staying steady, for not shaking. She was proud of herself for not even letting one bad memory poke up from the depths. That situation had been handled, this situation was the critical one. Any resemblance between now and then was a coincidence she did not have time to indulge.

Claire could freak out about all this later, in the privacy of her dorm room. Once the boy was safe and tended to by actual professionals, and once the guys were calmed down, and the mess cleaned up properly. Then she could feel everything and let it out. But not until then.

“Thank you,” the boy said. He studied the bandages on his wrists. “That feels much better.”

Claire nodded. “You're welcome.” She paused. “I just realized, I never really introduced the guys. Before I asked them to poke at you with tools and stuff. And I'm betting you never really caught my name either.”

He looked up at her, and was that a smirk? He knew she was fishing for his identity. Smart kid.

“I was... confused, yes,” he admitted. “You're Claire, right?”

“Right. This is Josh, and that's Jacob. Yes, they're twins. It's easy to tell them apart though. Josh likes power metal, Jacob's a classic rock fanatic.”

The boy frowned minutely, looked from one brother to the other, and then glanced down at their t-shirts. “Ah,” he said.

There was a long, silent pause.

Jacob broke the tension. “So, uh, what do we call you, kid?”

He shook his head quickly, fiercely. And then winced at the motion. “Not kid. Not anymore. I...” He shrugged. “I don't actually have a name. I'm not called anything, really.”

“Everyone has a name,” Jacob said.

The boy just shook his head.

“Not everyone has a name they're willing to share,” Claire said. “Is that it?”

Her feelings weren't that hurt that he didn't trust them. He only learned their names about a minute ago. Well, it stung a bit, sure, but she understood. Someone had hurt him, horrifically. How did he know she and her friends weren't just as bad?

He shrugged and looked away. Was that mistrust, or shame? She didn't understand his expression. Wasn't sure she wanted to understand.

“That's okay,” Claire said. “We can just use a nickname for now.”

“I... don't...” he shrugged. “Call me whatever you like. It hardly matters.”

It mattered, but she had to have something besides “the boy” to call him. Claire looked around the room. She saw that one of the guys had been playing video games before she arrived, there was still a game in the system. Ah. The hero of that game kind of reminded her of the kid, somehow.

“How about... Ryu?” she asked.