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“Let me see,” Luz whispered, gently peeling back Hunter’s shirt to take a look at the lashes on his sides and back.
“Please, no, it hurts,” he whispered, trembling as her fingers danced over the edges of the wounds. “Let them scab.”
“I need to make sure it’s scabbing,” Luz said. “You know how bad it can get if you don’t look at them early and make sure they’re clean and dry.”
The show was over for the night and Hunter and Luz were situated back in their train car, but the lashes came down hard and they came down plentiful during their performance. Luz was an obvious target for the freak show with her rounded ears and inability to fight back with magic, but Hunter had far more experience on the rails and performing. His gentle demeanor and lack of bile sac definitely made him interesting to watch squirm under the snap of a whip or the heat of a branding iron. When Luz was introduced to him, he was quick to warm to her and make sure she was tended after her onstage debut.
Hunter hissed as the fabric was peeled away from the hot and swollen skin over his ribs. “Luz-,” he choked out.
“I know. Ribs are the worst,” she cooed, wiping away the fluids the gash was leaking with one of the few clean pieces of linen they were provided between shows. They slept in bags on the floor, but they were at least provided with clean sheets every now and then. “Shh... Self-esteem?”
“Low,” Hunter whispered. “But not an all-time low.”
“That’s worth something,” Luz assured him, helping him dress again once he was cleaned and she made sure there wasn’t anything in the wounds. “We’re going to get out of here. You know that, don’t you?”
“Of course, I do,” he responded. “Thanks.”
“That should heal up just about as well as everything else should,” Luz said, placing a gentle hand atop some of the older scars on his arms. He was covered in poorly-healed wounds from before she was able to help take care of them. “But I want to keep an eye on it regardless. I know you have a hard time reaching there to take care of it yourself.”
“You don’t have to help...,” Hunter murmured, unable to meet her eyes.
“I want to help,” Luz insisted quietly. “Because you always help me. And neither of us deserve this. You never did anything.”
“You wouldn’t know-”
“Hunter,” Luz said, pressing her forehead to his and making him meet her gaze. “You’re sixteen. I don’t care what anyone made you believe about yourself. You have so much more life to live. I promised you I would get us both out of this cycle.”
He sniffled.
“I’m sorry,” Luz relented, pulling away from him and running her hand through his soft blonde hair. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
A hiccup made its way up his throat and he wrapped Luz up in as tight a hug as he could manage with his injuries. “I-... Thanks. For everything.”