Becca watched it all in his glasses. She never even felt queasy she would think later. Blood flowed wet from a hole in her lip. The gash was shaped like a fish mouth. A shiny curved needle pulled thick black thread through the gash and cinched it together. F(more)ingers tied the thread into a knot.
He thought she was looking into his eyes, so he repeated reassuringly "You're doing great, I'm almost done." She watched the needle and thread slowly erase the night. "Done!" he announced. "I'm sorry if I hurt you."
I'm sorry if I hurt you. I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to hurt you. She wasn't hurt much at all this time, but suddenly her lip began to throb and she felt the thick suture whiskers with her tongue and saw her ugly fat blood-crusted lip in his glasses. How many times do people say they are sorry that they hurt someone she wondered. And how many times are they sincere? And how many times do they go on to hurt that someone again?