Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
It’s then that I do scream.
Aida comments, “Maybe we should take this inside.”
Julius shakes his head. “Don’t want her bleeding in the house.”
Gripping the car’s doorframe, I take in a shaky breath and let out a trembling wail. Aida continues to twirl the cotton swab deep inside the wound. I’m unable to take a solid breath. My head droops sideways, and with hair plastered to my face in sweat, I whimper hoarsely, saliva dribbling out the side of my mouth and down my chin.
In short, I’m a hot mess.
The cotton swab is removed from the wound and held up in front of me. Aida points out the speckles. “Regardless of what you might think, I’m not doing this for fun. See those specks? That’s rust. I need to do that one more time, so prepare yourself.”
My body shakes violently, border-lining a fit, as I plead, “No, please don’t. No more. Please don’t.”
Nurse Aida ignores my pleas. She takes another cotton swab and repeats the process. Whatever I look like right now, shaking and moaning, must look like I’m not having much fun, because even Ling looks down at me, tissue balled up in her nose, sympathy etched on her features.
Aida pulls out the swab and checks it. Seeming happy with the cleanliness of the wound, she gently smears antiseptic cream in and around it before packing the small hole with gauze. “Take that out when you wake up tomorrow and put some more of this antiseptic cream over it. After you unwrap it, don’t cover it again. Keep it open, keep it clean. Wash it twice a day with salt water. You should be okay within the week, but it’s going to be sore for a while.” Turning to Julius, she orders, “She’s not going to be up for much in the next several days. You’re going to have to help clean the wound.”
His brow furrows. “What are you saying, a week? It’s a fucking puncture, not a gunshot wound. You’re telling me she needs a week for that bullshit to heal?”
Aida looks back at me, and as she looks me in the eye, I see apology. It’s then that I realize that Nurse Aida had been meaning to help me by giving me more time to heal than is necessary. The older woman looks back at Julius and answers quietly, “Four days at the very least.”
Without another word, Aida begins to unbutton my blouse. I slap at her hand. “Hey!”
Ignoring my sad attempt to keep some small form of dignity, she utters a hard, “You need a shot. Actually, you need two.” Her eyes meet mine. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer the derriere to the upper arm.” Her brows rise. “I can drop your pants as fast as I can get your sleeve down.”
The fight leaves me. I don’t want to get an infection. I don’t want to be sick. I allow her to manhandle me.
Aida pulls down my sleeve to reveal my arm. She pulls out two already loaded shots. Taking an alcohol swab, she cleans the skin on my upper arm before administering the first shot. It stings like a motherfucker, but I bite my tongue. The second burns twice as bad as the first, and she mutters, “The booster is a slow release, so it works in place of a ten-day pill course.”
Aida places a cotton ball on my arm, cuts off a piece of medical tape and sticks it there. She explains, “There’s likely to be a lump there tomorrow. Don’t touch it unless you want it to bruise.”
Ling steps up then. “Can you set my nose, Aida? I don’t want it to heal crooked.”
Aida sighs and stands. “Okay, but take it in the bathroom. Chances are, when I do it, it’ll bleed like a faucet.”
Ling’s gaze snaps to me, fury evident. Curling her lip, she lifts her hand and flips the bird my way. Walking away, she mouths, “Fuck you.”
Aida waddles behind Ling, disappearing into the house, leaving me with Julius.
“You need help walking?”
I look up at him. My mind is set on more important things. “Are you taking me home?”
He is. I see it in his eyes. He’s going to take me home, to my death, then leave like I never existed to him.
“I can’t go home.” This comes out a whisper, and far more pathetic than I intended.
Julius tilts his head, studying me. “Your brother.”
“What?”
Julius straightens. “Your brother will help you.”
I force out a cold laugh. “My brother is a soldier. Even if he wanted to help me, he couldn’t. And my father…” My eyes close. I swallow past the thickness in my throat. “My father will do what he has to in order to keep the peace.”
In layman’s terms, I’m already dead to him.
Blinking away the stinging behind my lids, I declare, “I’m not going back there.” As God is my witness, I fucking mean it.