They Rely On Hope. What Do I Rely On? - Tommyinnit Adoption AU

Chapter 123

Drista POV:

When she heard footsteps, Drista did not move. No one who came to see her deserved her effort. When Tommy was thrown into her cell, that changed swiftly. He looked awful, worse then anything she had seen before, and she had seen some hellish things. He had gaping hole in his arm, discoloured and clearly infected. He was covered in sweat and was clearly unconscious. She rushed forward, checking his temperature, hissing at the heat under her fingers. This was so fucking bad.

"Just keep him alive."

"What the hell!? You've given me nothing!! He needs antibiotics, and a whole lot of work cleaning this wound! What the hell do you mean just keep him alive!?"

"You're a healer aren't you? Do your one job."

"I'm not some magic healer! I need the tools! I need antibiotics, sterilised tools, bandaging, and then maybe I might be able to keep him alive, even then it's unlikely!"

"Fine, I'll get you that, but if he dies that's on you," The man snapped, slamming the door behind him as he left.

Drista's attention was not diverted from Tommy's unconscious form. She couldn't let him die too.

She measured his heart rate. Too fast. His breathing was short and fast, seeming to barely get any air in. He was alive yes, but for how long? Drista could not tell. Tommy could not go on like this. She needed to get him to a hospital, but there was no way in hell the Masked Ones would let her or Tommy leave. So, all she could do was keep him alive and hope desperately that someone somewhere would manage to find this place.

As the minutes stretched, leaving her alone with this husk of a kid, Drista's fear grew. They wanted him alive to torment her. Surely they would come back. They had to. She needed to save him, but she couldn't do that without the tools. She had nothing now. Not even completely free hands, the chains still pulling at her wrists when she moved to fast.

Drista rarely cried, but for Tommy, she often did. It was her fault he was here. Her fault Dream had hurt him. Her fault Dream wanted him here, near her. It was her fault he was broken. Her fault his brother was gone.

He had been covered in bruises from the day she had met him, but that didn't appear to be anything new for him. It hurt so much to see him like this. To know that he should never have experienced any of this, and that somehow she had messed up so horrendously that he had been brought to this hellhole.

The kid was supposed to have a good life. She had bargained his freedom for her work long ago, when Tubbo had died thanks to her first mistake, questioning Dream. Apparently The Masked Ones had decided that agreement was nullified when she had been caught. If she hadn't been caught, maybe Tommy would have had a chance to heal. To recover from his loss, but Drista knew he had not spent the last years healing. She could tell there had been pain everywhere he went. She had not saved him.

"That's all you get, make good use of it!" A voice snapped, cutting swiftly through her thoughts as a small first aid bag landed in her lap. She would not thank The Masked One for what was far less then human decency, but she was relieved. Maybe she could fix this. It was an insane thought, this was no where near what she would need, but she was going to try. 

She emptied the bag out, doing her best to keep everything sterile while spreading it out so she could take inventory of what she had been given.

The antibiotics she had asked for were there thankfully, they were oral, so they needed longer to work, which meant she had to give them to him now. Normally she'd give them with some food, but he wasn't awake, and that was a luxury she couldn't afford. Once she had forced him to swallow the antibiotics, she looked through the rest of her supplies.

Paracetamol, not as strong painkillers as she would've liked, but it was better then nothing, she just hoped Tommy would stay under while she worked. Gauze, gloves, non-iodised salt, distilled water, knife - hopefully sterile, bandages, antiseptic wipes, thermometer, tweezers, tape, bandaids, and an instant cold pack. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Drista checked the amount of water quickly, working out the correct amount of salt to add. She needed to do this now so the salt would dissolve, if she had a choice she would be able to boil the water, or even better have the saline solution already made, but this was what she had, so it would have to do the job. Once the salt was added, she left it to dissolve, sterilising the knife with the antiseptic wipes. It wasn't the best, but she knew not to trust it to be sterile. This was better then nothing.

With a deep breath, she set to work, terrified but determined. Tommy would survive this. She would keep him alive.

Hesitantly, she made the first slice, cutting into the infection. It couldn't stay there. Tommy's face scrunched in pain at the touch, and Drista desperately wanted to curl up in a ball and get someone else to do this.

There wasn't enough. She should have local Anaesthetic to numb the pain. She should have stronger pain meds. She should have an IV to give those straight to the blood, but she couldn't. She didn't have any of that stuff. She didn't have anyone else to do this for her, so she had to just do it. Get it over with. This might be painful, but it would save Tommy's life. She just hoped like hell he didn't wake up yet. Not until she was done.

Another slice, another grimace of agony. He wasn't awake, but he could feel the pain. She knew she couldn't stop. Not now. She squeezed her hand tighter around the blade, and continued to work. She blocked out the signs of pain coming from the boy. She needed to do this. She hated it, but she had to.

When the wound was clean and the infected tissue had been removed, she coated the gauze in the saline solution, packing it into the wound, making sure that it would hold, before bandaging it up, covering the horror. She did not want to see it. Not again. Not ever. She knew she would have to clean the wound and change the bandaging soon enough, but she couldn't face that now. Later, when it had to be done, she would deal with it, but for now she would shut her eyes and let herself break.

Drista had seen so many horror scenes in this cruel place. She had seen so many kids die, so many kill, so many close to death but not quite dead, so many who gave up and lose a blood match on purpose. But Tommy, Tommy was different. He was different in the way his dirty blond hair matched hers. Different in the way his twin's green eyes were shockingly similar to hers. Different in the way he was so broken, so alone, and she was right here, unable to bring herself to tell him the truth. The truth that it was her fault. Her fault Tubbo had died. Her fault Tommy had been captured. All her fault.

She had wanted her family, but not like this. She had talked to Dream years ago, the man she had then thought was her brother. She had said she was lonely, admitting that she felt she was missing a part of herself and she didn't know why. That had been when he told her. Told her that she was not related to him. She was not his sister. She was a triplet that Dream had taken into his care when her parents hadn't wanted her. She had been grateful to him then. He had earned her loyalty at the age of 4.

But then, Drista found out what that man had done to Tubbo in an attempt to get her a family. It had been her fault. If she hadn't told him that she wanted her brothers, they would never have been dragged into this world, but Tubbo was dead, and she began to register the pain of everyone who surrounded her.

She had always known, she had thought she shared their pain, but she had been wrong. Theirs was so much worse. She had the luxury of knowing the guards wouldn't hurt her, needing her skills as a nurse. The others had suffered. One by one she had helped kids. Dedicating her life to that. Right up until Dream discovered her secret and locked her up, finding Tommy. Her punishment was Tommy's pain. Her brother's pain.

Words: 1500

A/N: this was made primarily with the help of my sister who sent me practically an essay worth of information about how to treat an infected burn wound, so everyone go cry to her about how cruel this was/j (she tried to get me to be less evil... look at least I'm giving Tommy a chance)