It wasn't like Caretaker didn't know what they were going to find when they walked into Whumpee's apartment. Friend had called twenty minutes earlier. They'd had a huge fight and Whumpee had run out crying.
"They won't want to talk to me." Friend had said. "I'll just make things worse. But someone should go check on them."
It had been easy to miss the first couple of weeks after Whumpee had come home. Every part of their body was so raw and marred from what Whumper had done to them that it was impossible to distinguish between the old and the new wounds. But as the months wore on and most of the injuries healed and the worst of the scabs began to fade to scars, the fresh wounds still appeared.
It hadn't been what this fight was about. But they had fought with Whumpee about it before. The screams and threats and pleas had done nothing so far. So it was time to take another approach.
Caretaker found Whumpee in their bathroom, hunched over the sink with a box cutter in one hand and a steady drip drip drip of crimson dropping into the bowl from their opposite arm. They startled when Caretaker said their name. Turning towards them with wide, terrified eyes. Their hands curled around the box cutter tighter as though they were preparing for battle, and their wrist curled just so, so that the deep red line on their skin was obscured. They weren't crying anymore, but their eyes had a glassy, distant quality to them that told Caretaker that they weren't entirely there with them.
"I'm not going to yell." Caretaker held up their hands in submission and leaned on the door jam to tell Whumpee that they had no plans of moving, either closer, nor farther away.
"Can I stay?" They asked anyway. After a moment, Whumpee nodded defeatedly. And then, almost in defiance to Caretaker's noseyness, they turned back to the sink and began to resume what they had been doing before with a disjointed, mechanical presition.
Caretaker balled their hands into fists and resisted the overwhelming urge to leap forward and wrestle the boxcutter away as they watched it inch closer to Whumpee's arm. It wasn't like they didn't know how the the wounds appeared on Whumpee all the time. But they'd never actually seen it happen before; and really wasn't eager to see if happen again.
They elected instead to stare at their shoes and toe at a broken piece of bathroom tile.
"Friend asked me to come." They said when Whumpee didn't ask why they were there. "They're sorry about the fight, and want to make it up to you when you're ready to talk to them again."
"It was my fault." Whumpee responded in a distant monotone. "I'm really tired, and it's making me irritable. The nightmares are getting worse again. It's like every time I close my eye - even to blink - there's something awful in the shadows. I haven't slept in three days. I think I'm starting to loose track between asleep and awake."
"You know you're awake right now right?"
Caretaker had to look up carefully through their eyelashes to see Whumpee nod their understanding. After a tense pause Whumpee added:
"You can't feel pain in dreams."
Caretaker's stomach twisted, and they again, resisted the urge to grab Whumpee and wrestle them to the floor for their own safety. If they had to stand like this any longer they were probably going to be sick. The sink was turning very red.
"Is that why you're doing this?"
Whumpee didn't answer for a very long time. Long enough that they would no longer be able to pull off lying to Caretaker if they tried to.
"No." They finally said. Then after a pause during which Caretaker again had to resist the urge to tackle them, they actually began to explain.
"When I was with Whumper, they would make me punish myself sometimes. I'd do something wrong, or something would go wrong and it would be my fault. And they'd punish me for it. Sometimes for days. It would hurt. Sometimes I'd think they were going to kill me. And then sometimes they'd hand me a knife and tell me I needed to atone. The first few times I they did it I was really confused, and angry. But the thing was, every time I "atoned" that would be the end of it. The punishments would stop afterwards and things would go back to normal. Well, you know- as normal as they could be."
"I actually started to hope they would make me do it sometimes. It was better than dying, or wondering when the pain was going to stop. I would actually be happy when they handed me the knife. It's comforting to know when the pain is going to stop. "
"I know that's awful. And I know it's stupid now that Whumper's not here. And that's not how life works. But I got so used to it. And everything always seemed to be my fault. So now, even though I'm out, when things are bad and I did something wrong I feel like I need to atone. And then maybe all the bad things will stop. I know it doesn't work like that in the real world. But it's all I know how to do to stop the pain."
Caretaker had to close their eyes and focus on their breathing for a few beats so that they wouldn't be sick. Or worse, fly into a rage. Whumpee had told them what Whumper had done to them before. Including that. The "atonements" as Whumpee called them. But Caretaker had never made the connection. It made them feel like they needed to atone too. They'd done everything they could to help Whumpee heal. How could they have missed such an obvious wound and let it literally bleed all over for so long?
When Caretaker got control of themselves again they closed they opened their eyes and forced themselves to look at Whumpee's reflection in the mirror. Their eyes were still glassy and distant, and their still weren't crying. But their face was getting paler and both of their hands were starting to shake.
"Have you atoned enough for today?"
After a few seconds of silence Whumpee slowly nodded, and put down the box cutter. Caretaker felt like oxygen had entered the room again.
"Can I help clean you up?"
"I want to help. Please?"
Caretaker would have stayed in the doorway if Whumpee said no. They would have continued to stand there and watch Whumpee fall apart and do nothing but observe and let if happen if that's what Whumpee needed them to do in that moment. But they hoped that their tone conveyed just how much they needed Whumpee to let them help. To let them feel useful and take care of their friend.
After another long moment Whumpee nodded and Caretaker was stepping into the room before the movement could even stop. In the time span of Whumpee's surprised gasp Caretaker had whisked them away from the sink and onto the edge of the bathtub, pressing a no-longer-white hand towel to their arm with enough pressure it made Whumpee wince.
The room was quiet for several minutes except for the sounds of Caretaker rummaging around for the first-aid kit, cotton balls, and alcohol swabs. The wound was deep. It was definitely going to scar. It probably needed stitches, but Caretaker knew Whumpee was never going to agree to that, and they had got the bleeding to stop so for now they could let it slide.
Neither of them talked, or even made eye contact as Caretaker worked. It wasn't until Caretaker was wrapping bandages around their wounds that they noticed Whumpee's hands starting to shake again that they finally looked up at them to see silent tears streaming down their face. Their eyes were no longer glassy and distant. And Caretaker got the feeling that they were only now realizing that Caretaker was there with them. That they had seen everything. And Whumpee had no where to hide.
"Thank you for letting me stay."
Caretaker couldn't bring themselves to force emotion into their voice. Because "thank you" was to strange a thing to say to this already. And they couldn't fathom how they could be thankful for any of what they saw. But they had seen. And more importantly they had learned. And they knew what might actually help Whumpee now.
"I'm not going to tell you that you shouldn't do that again because I know that's not how these things work. Especially now. But if I ever see you doing it again I'm going to stop you. That was to hard for me to watch. I want to help you though. I want to help you find a way to heal from this. Next time you feel you need to atone for something, can you promise you'll tell me? I would prefer if you did it before hand so we could find a different way to do it. But if you do it during or after I'll still come. I'll still help. I just - please?"
"Okay." Whumpee nodded. Their eyes were turning red and a flush was rising in their cheeks. When they spoke their voice came out in a shaky whisper. They sounded exhausted, and terrified, and like they were in so much pain. But they cracked the shadow of a smile as they continued to nod to Caretaker vigorously and wipe the tears out of their eyes with the back of their uninjured hand.
"Okay. I'll tell you next time. I promise."