Caretaker is a kind person. Really.

Their kindness only extends so far, though… and unfortunately for Whumper, they lay just out of its reach.

Swinging a bat, Caretaker smiles as the wood meets Whumper’s ribs, a sickening crunch echoing throughout the room as Whumper hacks and coughs, tears streaming down their eyes and mixing with the snot pouring out of their nose. Caretaker hits them again, high on the sound of Whumper’s ribs giving in and shattering. Whumper cries out in pain. As if they didn’t hear it, Caretaker winds up and swings again. The bat smashes into Whumper's ribs.

“Stop,” Whumper heaves. “Please. I-I’ve learned my lesson.”

“You don’t get to decide that.” Caretaker walks to Whumper’s left and brings the bat back, then hits their ribcage with all of the might they can muster.

Whumper screams. “I-I swear,” they plead. “I’m sorry for what I did to Whumpee. I really am.”

Caretaker looks up, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Really! I… I know an apology doesn’t cut it, but I’m sorry.”

“Then I guess you can go now—oops, sorry, my hand slipped.”

Whumper screams as the other side of their ribcage fractures under the force of Caretaker’s rage, every breath of theirs growing more and more ragged with every swing.

Dropping the bat, Caretaker sets their hands on their knees. “Did you,” they breathe, “did you really think I’d let you go?”

“Is-Isn’t that what you wanted? An apology?”

Maniacal laughter fills the air as Caretaker clutches their sides. They wipe a tear away. Whumper’s a pretty good comedian.

“Wh-What the hell are you laughing for?”

Caretaker stands up straight, tears still streaming down their face as they hold back chuckles. “Do you think an apology would fix anything? Do you think it’d magically make Whumpee better? Why the fuck would I want an apology? No, those aren’t the questions I should be asking… The question I should be asking is why did it take this for you to realize what you did was wrong? Do you not have any compassion? How could you possibly justify what you did to Whumpee?”

“You…” Whumper looks down at their floor, eyebrows knitted. “I’m not—”

“You’re not what, hmm? You’re not the bad guy? I don’t care if your dad beat you or if you got bullied at school. I don’t give a shit. You lost your right to any sort of sympathy when you did what you did to Whumpee.”

it'd be a shame if something were to...

Too bad I don’t care.

I’m going to cut him open, peel back skin and flesh until I reach the bone underneath. And then I will carve my name into his sternum. A gift from me that he’ll never be able to get rid of.

omg huge no one should care

Daily Whump Fact - Having to do a makeshift splint for a broken/fractured bone can cause it to heal incorrectly. If the damage is bad enough, the bone will need to be re-broken then allowed to heal again correctly.

Whumper splinting a broken bone WITH ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR BONES.

like, you get your arm cut off and then your leg is broken. And your Whumper splints it WITH THE BONE FROM YOUR ARM. YOUR BROKEN BINE IS SPLINTED WITH. A. BONE.

Medic has been taking care of the newcomers all day. Rescuees from the last mission. When they ask what is wrong, Whumpee points to their shoulder, trying not to move too much. Medic examines it for a couple of minutes. 

“Is it… Is it broken?” 

Their voice is so small and scared, Medic has a hard time finding words. This is always the hardest part of medicine. The human part. Fear. He smiles and shakes his head. 

“No. Just dislocated.” 

The small Whumpee nods in agreement. They probably knows what comes next. The scars that cover their skin show this is not their first rodeo. Medic could at least be glad this would be their last. They had just been rescued after who knows how long inside that complex. Team Leader was hoping they could join, to which Medic couldn’t help but object. Whumpee didn’t seem like much more than a child - even if their records said otherwise. 

“I’m going to have to put it back in place.”

Whumpee nods again, keeping their head down. They close their eyes, bracing for it. Medic holds them in place, puts their arm in position and pushes it back in place with a sudden movement. Whumpee clenched their teeth, hand clutching a piece of their thin clothing. They gasp and puff quickly and silently. The shine of tears glimmer in the corners of their eyes, but they’re quick to dry it. They open their eyes, terrified and gape at the medic. 

“I-I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I…”

“What didn’t you mean to do?” 

They look at the Medic, confused. 

“Cry without permission.”

Medic puts a hand to their face. The Whumpee shivers and closing their eyes, knowing it was coming. But the Medic just stroke their cheek with their thumb. 

“It’s okay to cry. You’re safe now.”

The Whumpee opens their eyes, looking confused. They look like they’re about to do it, but hold themselves back. Perhaps it is too soon for old habits to die down. Perhaps the effects of their torture go way further than what the Medic can heal.