Sounds of Life in a Quiet House[Work/Night]

There was the occasional rustling of plastic, rattling and clciking of glass or metal on glass, and the scraping of plastic on plastic as the brunette worked to unload the bags of groceries into the refrigerator, or at least what needed to be put in the fridge. Next would be several cans that he proceeded to stack up onto one arm, and moved to start putting them into the cupboard. More noise brought some semblance of life to the otherwise nigh-silent house.

Yet just as he was about finished with that, picking the last can of beans he'd been hugging against his chest with one hand, Xander winced. He looked down, and saw a small red stain on the bottom lip of the can, his gaze shifting to his chest, where he could see fresh red blood beginning to seep out from the small cut there. He surmised that the can must have snagged on the dried up cut and torn it open. He hissed, annoyed. The young man would grab a paper towel and wipe away the red fluid staining the can, or what he could get off anyways, before putting the can on the shelf with the others. He then looked back down, before his hand reached down, a finger setting itself about an inch away from each edge of the cut, and gently prying it apart a bit.

Again he winced. The cut wasn't deep. The tip of the knife had just nicked him back then, it was basically like a really big papercut. Hurt like a motherfucker though. He let go, and the wound continued to ooze, soaking up into the surrounding fabric that had already stained brown with dried blood. Xander pulled out the two packets of crispbread, the last items in the shopping bag, and put them into the cupboard. He'd then toss the plastic bags aside, and look to the kitchen table, where he'd set something aside: A small bag, the logo and name of a small local pharmacy printed on the side. He'd open it, packs of sterile gauze, large band-aids, two separate bottles of iodine solution, and some skin glue.

Well, at least this hopefully shouldn't need stitches. "Mom, I'll get cleaned up, and I'll start making dinner after that." He called out from the kitchen doorway, into the living room. She would make... some kind of noise, perhaps in response. It was hard to tell sometimes when she was lucid enough to be both aware of her surroundings, and capable of giving a coherent response. Oh well, she didn't sound as though there was any distress, so it should be good. He hoped it was good.

His breath came out in pained groans, hisses, the young man wincing as the gauze pad, stained brown with copious amounts of iodine solution, began taking on a more reddish tint ad he stroke the pad along the wound on his thigh. There was a gasp, as he winced from the gauze snagging and tugging on the edge of the wound. He would try again to give the cut a firm wipe, but unlike the small scratch on his chest, this was hardly a clean cut, and some of the edges were clearly more torn than cut.

It wasn't going anywhere. Xander tossed the pad into the sink, before grabbing the rest of the pads from their pack, and folded them over on themselves a few times. He'd then open his mouth, placing the folded up gauze inbetween his jaws, gently biting down, before grabbing the bottle of iodine and unscrewing it. And then he poured it, directly on the wound.The gauze served fairly well as something for him to both bite and scream into, his cry muffled and his teeth only aching slightly.

After he finished getting his injuries cleaned and glued shut, he'd wash his hands, and head into the kitchen.

The sounds of the knife clicking against the plastic cutting board again provided some sound to combat the deafening silence. Yet it also did not slip into monotony. There was distinction to the sound of the knife slicing through a potato, compared to the sound of it slicing through an onion or pepper. And different still when he'd cut the meat down to size. The pieces of beef would sizzle in butter while Xander washed the rice in a sieve. The meat would be set aside, and vegetable would take its place. Onion, two cloves of garlic, ginger, carrots, potatoes. A sauce was beginning to form, slowly stewing away.

Then came the spices. This was the part he'd always screw up. So he went slowly, adding bit-by-bit and stirring thoroughly between applications, until he finally got where he thoguht it was almost right. Tomato paste and sugar went in next adding some seetness, while some soy sauce would bring the salt-levels up to where they needed to be. It was almost time to add the meat.

"But first..." He thoguht aloud as he grabbed the half of a peeled and cored apple, as well as a grater, and began to grate it directly into the pot. He'd get to the end of the first half, killed the heat, and added the rest. Just as he went to add the meat, he could hear the rice cooker letting him know it was done.

"I hope you liked it. I tried to make it like aunt Grace taught me way back." He spoke to the woman, seated in her comfy armchair, as he put aside the mostly empty plat of japanese-style curry and rice. She was staring off, somewhere past him, slowly swaying her head to one side and then the other, humming what he could assume mgiht be some nursery rhyme. "You can't hear me again? Can you, mom?" He'd think he would have gotten used to the silence that he got in response, but it was still like a stab in the heart every time.

Xander would stand up, Grabbing the dishes as he glanced at the clock. 18:43. He began walking to the kitchen. "I'll eat some, go check on my ants, and then get your bath ready. Ok?" All he got in return, was more silence.

(Word Count: 1038)