“And stop calling me that.”
“What?”
“Dolphin, you stupid f*****g idiot.”
Lacey trembled and scanned her wrists. “What are you doing?”
“Hold your hands out.”
Dolph tore the end off the packet, and spat the plastic remnant into the bowl.
“Fingers, too. Out. ”
He tore a strip of fabric out, and wrapped it, slowly, around her hand, past, her index finger and thumb, and around the other side of her wrist.
“If mom taught us anything, it’s how to wrap a decent gauze on ourselves. Have you been taking drugs?”
Lacey burst out laughing as the red liquid seeped into the cotton and bled out a dry, orange-brown. “Aww. Dolphin?”
He looked up at her and bandaged her other hand. “Lacey?”
“Are you jealous?”
“Jealous of what? Rinsing the flesh off my hands? No, not exactly.”
“Nah, Dolphin,” she
