I lean my head against the wall. It’s getting dark now; I watch till I can’t see the shoe print. Splints whines at the back door. I heave myself to my feet and limp into the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood drips.

I wonder if I’ve lost enough blood to affect my brain. Calm breaks then—waves of it washing those bees out, smoothing the pain into a background hum. The hand that opens the sink cupboard and lifts out the Betadine is shaking . . . which seems silly because my mind’s so calm. I swallow a giggle. My arms and legs tingle like they’ve licked a battery, but my heart’s beating slow and steady, pulsing through the cut and vibrating in my chest and fingers. My head carries on clear and unbothered. I sit on the edge of the bath with my leg over the side, dripping blood onto the enamel. I try to slide the leg of my trackies up but it’s heavy with blood, it keeps slipping down. They’ll have to come off. I lift my bum up and slide the cut pant leg and then the other off and drop them in the bath with a wet plop. They’re going to need soaking. The smell of Lettie’s is still stuck up the back of my nose, but there’s another smell there too, a damp animal smell, thick and sleepy. The smell of my insides, I guess.

I pull the showerhead down and spray my leg. It brings the bees swarming back and I suck air in through my teeth. The water takes the blood. I watch it swirl and drain away till it catches the trackies, pushing them closer to the plughole. When I snag them and slide them up closer they leave a red streak on the enamel. There’s less blood now, though the cut’s still seeping. I put the showerhead down carefully and bring my eyes closer to the cut. I place a finger either side and pull it apart. The sting of it makes my ears ring. The inside of my leg’s pinker than I’d imagined and smaller, for something causing so much pain. It looks clean but I know what I need to do. I pick up the showerhead and spray water into it. I shrink into a little spot on my leg, nothing but pain, till my fingers give out. There’s blood in my mouth. Nearly done. I feel you sitting on the bath next to me as I turn off the water. I feel your fingers, gentle on my back. I’m breathing slowly through my nose and I pick up the Betadine and take off the cap. With one hand I tease apart the cut and with the other I pour the contents of the bottle in.