won't get out if i fall in | dom, day 8

For once, Dominic's eyes were dry. They still stung with regret, but he did not shed a tear. He was far too tired to do so.

He found an eventual resting place among the gems, bracing himself against a particularly large chunk of green. His hands fumbled through his backpack until he retrieved his urn, twisting the top off and lifting it above his face. A gulp of water sloshed into his mouth, magnesium mixing with iron and soft tissue. Some pooled at the back of his throat, and he coughed, which resulted in a red trail down his chin. Dominic slowly blew air into his cheeks, swishing the mouthful around before leaning over and letting it rush out onto the ground.

Dominic wiped his mouth with the pads of his fingers, feeling the residue collect on his skin but feeling nothing in his lips. The side of his face where the boy had struck him was now numb, a drastic change from the searing pain he had felt just moments ago. He continued to absently pat at his face, as if he would suddenly heal by magic.

How would he eat? He didn't have the range of motion to eat a bundle of plants, let alone the deer meat that was probably growing all sorts of pathogens in his bag. One of the very first things that he'd learned at the training center was that nature could kill you faster than anything in the unnatural arena.

His nostrils whistled as he tried to regulate his breathing, rustling through his pack again. He found the roll of bandages he had swiped from Callum and began to unspool it around his hand, the cotton not feeling too different from how his mouth felt then.

Dominic fixed his splint first, wrapping the bandages tighter around his forearm. Were both bones broken now? He couldn't tell, for it all felt the same. Once it felt secure, he peeled off another length of cotton and tucked it below his chin, bringing the edges to the top of his head and tying a hasty double knot. His cheeks resisted the compression, and his teeth clicked together uncomfortably, but at the very least, everything was in line again.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed once he had finally patched himself up, strips of white standing out against his black attire. There had always been someone to greet him after every battle, someone to remind him that there was still good in this fucked up place. But now Dominic was alone, body limp from exhaustion and spirit calling out for company.

If I had company, I wouldn't be able to speak to them anyway, he reassured himself.

That didn't make him feel any better.