"Nothing to indicate any cranial damage. Deep bruising on her face, but no broken bones. She's been choked multiple times given the bruising on her neck, but other than bruising and some inflammation everything seems unobstructed air passage wise."
His stoic resolve broke up some, as he moved to her chest. He looked away for a moment and then back.
"Bites look infected. We should clean them out and stitch them. Did you bring antibiotic shots?"
I nodded woodenly.
"We'll administer them, after she gets more fluid in her."
His hands moved down to her rib cage, which was one mottled mass of purple bruised skin. Sweat was rolling off Trent, as his fingers firmly felt along her ribs. She stirred and moaned slightly.
"Should we give her a sedative?" I asked quickly.
He shook his head no, "She's too weak for that now, maybe later. She has multiple fractures, but nothing out of place. We'll wrap her tight to help with the pain."
His fingers pressed into her, as he felt her organs. "Her livers inflamed, but that could be from infections."
"Is she bleeding inside?" I asked.
"I don't know." He responded in no more than a whisper.
He felt at her arms and hands. Her wrists were raw and bloody from the manacles, "She has two broken fingers that will need reset and taped together. Several others are pulled out of joint."
He spread her legs a little and choked out, "Did you bring vinegar?"
I nodded and said, "I'll take care of it."
He nodded and moved on. Her knees were skinned up bad and her legs were bruised, but that was it.
It was enough.
"We'll wash her front and then do the work that's needed. We'll administer the shots and the sedative and then roll her over and wash her other side and deal with the cuts on her back."
I nodded in agreement.
I watched Trent's big fingers move with an unbelievable precision and dexterity for their size as he painstakingly stitched away at the deeper slices left on Deshavi's back by the whip. We had been at this for almost four hours now. Deshavi was covered with blankets everywhere except for the area that Trent was working on.
Deshavi's face was to the side and it appeared that she was looking stronger thanks in large part to the IV fluid most likely. I glanced back at Trent's work. He was stitching cuts I might not of bothered with and I asked as much, why he was bothering.
He paused for a moment before answering, "I don't know much about women, but I do know this. What they see when they look in the mirror at themselves is what they judge themselves by. Every scar, wrinkle, extra bit of flesh is seen as a statement against themselves. It's not right, but that's how they're hardwired. When Deshavi looks at herself in the mirror I want her to see, as little as possible, of anything to remind her of what happened to her and by which she can judge herself by." He tied off the stitch.