Help Her

You crouch down next to her, and she looks up at you, her expression unreadable. Cum drips in thick streaks from her coated face and open lips. She moves her tongue as if to speak, but she is unable to form the words.

You give a command, but the crew ignores you. You curse, and you offer her your hand. She, shaking, takes it. You pull her upright and cover her nakedness with your uniform jacket. She stumbles, but you catch her. One Mariner mumbles an apology.

The stairs are tricky, and she holds on to your body with quiet desperation. You carry her inside her room and lift her into her bed. There is a bowl with lukewarm water on her washstand, and you press a sponge into her shaking hand. She drops it.

”Help me. Please.”

You hesitate, but she stares you down. She winces when you strip off the jacket again, and you pause. She swallows, then nods. Cleaning her is grim work, the monster’s grime and her beauty, so revealed, sickening in equal measure.

”Thank you.” She hides under her blanket and does not meet your eyes. ”Thank you.”

You mumble something and then flee her stuffy room.