CHAPTER 17
Fanaa
- destruction of self; "destroyed in love"
Origin: Arabic and Urdu
17
I take the supplies that I need to clean his wound and lay them out on the counter. I prop up my leg leaning it on the toilet bowl just below his crotch and placed his hand on my leg.
I.
Put.
His.
Hand.
On.
My.
Leg.
Holy hell.
His arm draping across my leg and I wish my hands would calm down and not shake while I clean his wound. As I start putting alcohol over the cut with the cotton ball clipped with the tweezers, I push all of my hair to one side so it won't intervene while I'm cleaning his wound. I was amazed that he doesn't flinch at all from the stinging pain. He just sat there and doesn't make a sound. I was even silently wincing for him but he just watches me work quietly. We didn't
