ɪɴᴜʀᴇ [ᴘᴏᴇᴛʀʏ]

x. ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ

Waiting room. Walls painted white with
nothing except framed posters I could not read
hanging from the walls. Magazines
cluttered the coffee table but
        I could not read.
Distress sat across from me, fear next to me.
Grandma lay her hand on my knee and reassured me
there was
        nothing wrong with me.
Then why am I here?
Why is it that it's
        my name being called and
                not hers?

Doctor's room. Walls painted a faint red, or
perhaps it was orange?
Grandma told him I had a bladder infection — nothing
        serious, she hopes.
I suppressed my need to urinate; the Doctor's post-it notes
caught my eye. I could draw. I could if he'd let me. But
        he wasn't interested.
Doctors aren't paid to entertain little girls.

He told me to strip. We'd get nowhere by
       sitting around. Talking would solve nothing.
He drew the curtain. I hesitated.
Mama's already got me an ultrasound and the doctors found
       nothing. How would Doctor, with nothing except
               his hands, be able to detect
                       something wrong with me?

Grandma's house. She liked to read the newspapers — she had
no TV, so what else could keep her entertained?
I flipped through it and laughed at the comics, but
        could not read them. I still hadn't been taught how to read.
The pages painted my fingers grey, ashy.
I left for the toilet. I had an undetected bladder infection, and
I brought the newspapers with me. The pictures were

cold, but they'd keep me company.
Grandma was taking a nap — she
always did whenever she was upset. I usually tried to make her
smile again by drawing for her, but
Doctor told me to learn to read first. Drawing didn't
        please anyone. It certainly didn't please him.
Doctor was educated. He would
        know best.

He told me I was spoiled. He told me I'd faked a serious
infection for attention. Told me I
        liked attention and
told Grandma I lacked attention —

I didn't think that seeing his face on the
newspapers could recall
        forgotten memories.
I assumed he'd had an article written about him because he was a
great, notorious doctor.
I woke Grandma up. She shook her head and pursed her lips.
        That doctor is in prison now, dear. He was
                found guilty of

paedophilia.