Sarah
I don't dare move and barely breathe as Matthew lightly grazes the scratches on my arms.
His blue eyes aren't icy as they usually are, and this softness in his face is a rare sight.
"Why did you do this to yourself?" he asks in a low voice.
"I…I felt like something was crawling all over me when I was down there," I say quietly. "Like bugs."
"I see," he comments grimly. "Maybe you should see someone about it."
"I am not crazy," I snap.
His lips quirks into a smile. "That's debatable."
"Well…I am not." I pout.
Matthew releases my arm and goes to his desk. He rummages inside for a bit, then pulls out a tube of antiseptic cream.
I watch as he uncaps the tube and squeezes a small amount of cream onto his fingers.
"Hold still," he murmurs, and I do as he asks, tensing slightly as he starts to gently apply the cream to the raw scratches on my skin.
