Bloodscript: Survival Game of the Reborn
he said, voice a little rough.
I swallowed.
“There’s a scrape,” I said, trying to sound clinical. Failing. “On my hip. I think it’s just… ugly.”
“Come closer,” he said.
My feet moved without me consciously deciding.
When I was close enough to touch, the water from his stall mingled with mine, hotter, pounding harder. My skin prickled.
I turned slightly, exposing the bruised side of my body—the angry red patch where stone had chewed through skin, the mottled purple at my waist.