Daddy's voice calmed him a little, but in his panic, he had agitated his eyes and the sores on his skin. They prickled and bled against his pyjamas, making him hurt every time he moved.
His rush of panic was subsiding and he still felt weak, and achey. "My eyes are sticky," he said plainly, trying to open his lashes. His hand reached out for his father's face, brushing up and feeling the stubble of his hair and beard. He wanted to be able to see again, but it hurt too much to open his eyes.
He leaned back against his father's chest, his thumb instinctively going to his mouth. He couldn't hold himself up any longer, but didn't want Daddy to go far away. Those bad pirates were out there, and they might just get him one day.