I am the police

Send “It hurts!” for my muse to patch up a wound on yours. Feel free to specify the kind of wound!

      Kieren slowly opened the door, trekking back carefully       into the tiny apartment. the glass coffee table was splayed       on its side, shattered and spilled all over the floor. the       honey haired boy was wearing little more than a large,        loose sweater, and a pair of red shorts that reached to        the middle of his pallid thigh. “I swept most of it up, but       I just haven’t gotten all of it.”

     Christian trailed behind him, looking around the apartment      curiously as he walked through. He looked down at the      mess on the floor, wondering again what had happened.      He saw that Kieren did, in fact, get a lot of the glass, mostly      just little pieces that would have to be picked up by hand      were left. “Alright, how about I work on cleaning the rest of      this up while you tell me happened?” Christian was already      beginning to squat down to the floor as he spoke. He stared      back up at Kieren as he waited for him to start talking.

       “If anything, you’re persistent, Christian,” he whispered          in a near hiss, a sigh coming from his lips. “I’ll tell you         what happened if you help me clean up the glass.”

    Christian was a little thrown at the mention     of broken glass and was about to ask and     then remembered that Kieren was about to     tell him, he just had to be patient for a minute     he reminded himself. He pushed off the door     frame, shoving one hand into his coat pocket     and gesturing in front of him towards the inside     of the house with the other. “Lead the way.”

        “Just go home, Christian, please,” the young man whispered,          trying to keep the door as closed as possible. truth be told, it          was another violent john. he only wanted to go back to cleaning          up the broken glass. “It’s late, you should get some sleep.”

    Christian shakes his head as he leans an     arm against the door frame, wedging a shoe     in between the door and the frame to keep it     from being shut on him. “Come on, just tell me     what’s goin’ on.”