I squawked in objection but she quickly pinched it between a handful of paper towels.
“I know. I know.” She whispered. Peering at the blood, seeping through. Perhaps we should take you to the Emergency Room for some stitches.”
“Nah.” I teetered. “Don’t even hurt. ’Sides there’s a kit there.”
I pointed to the drawer.
Tasha whirled then had to put a hand to her head to steady herself before opening a few drawers. Eventually pulling out the small white first aid kit. She wrapped my hand, with gauze packed against it to slow the bleeding.