𝘿𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡 𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙛𝙩 - 𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 ✓

17.

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If someone had told me during my teenage that I'd be working face-to-face with the most deathly handsome, yet also deathly terrifying men imaginable, I wouldn't have believed them. But I get to fall asleep every night to the reminder that I'll be seeing him again, wake up to the thought, get ready, and there he is. 

I don't consider this love; I don't plan on defining this feeling. Yet. I don't know Stanislav's motives, neither do I know my own. My heart follows with what it wants, and that's the only route I've taken. I don't have a plan or direct idea of what Stanislav and I could possibly be. But it is quite fun to ponder about, to imagine the fake scenarios and possibilities. Yet I know deep down, nothing will actually arise. I work there. He is a patient. That is all it is. 

 As soon as I got home from that day, the day I stitched his wounds, I stared at myself in the mirror before I showered. This thumbs smudge line across the edge of my lips was still visible, and it took every ounce of might within me to clean it off. I really, really didn't want to. I liked how it made me feel, how he did that to me. I liked how he touched my skin, so gently compared to the horrific beating he caused against that other patient. I hate how special it makes me feel.

Ever since that day, the memory plays in the back of my mind on repeat. Sometimes I feel like he is the only reason I get up in the morning, to see that face. I know that's a horrible thought, and a horrible mindset to have, but I can't lie. There's no way to describe what he does to me. How he makes me feel. 

But every time I think of him, the old, coffee-stained divorce papers stare untouched, unsigned. It's a hinderance. I hate seeing them every single day. 

━━━

"We need to talk."

What could be compared to a painful screech chirps towards me, the distance voice of nurse Bridget urging my attention towards her. Her presence is enough to lower my mood to the floor, but she wants to talk to me? seriously? Well, take a deep breath, and compose yourself Y/N, you've got this.

"What?" I twist my body to face hers as she approaches me from down the hall. She reaches me, our figures face-to-face in the middle of the hallway. Patients observe us as the walk past, and nurse Bridget ushers me around a corner in distant privacy. She's got this very specific sour glare painted over her face, one where it's not overly visual, but it's definitely there by the knitted eyebrows and how she's sucking her teeth. 

Her head turns back, checking for staff or patients, then back to me. "Can I be honest with you?" She begins, in the same agitated, sour tone. I raise my eyebrows with gritted teeth and a bored expression. "Go on," I state. "You've been a real bitch lately, you know that? ever since the Christmas party, you haven't tried to talk to me since. You haven't tried to fix anything since. And this whole 'thing' you've got going on says a lot, you know?" Her hand waves over my face as she insinuates what 'thing' she's talking about. 

"What 'thing', Bridget? seriously, did you ever think that maybe I never wanted to fix anything between us? you weren't good for me, not everyone loves you, you know?" I scoff at her arrogant comment, and her expression only grows more and more frustrated that I never wanted to repair whatever we had. "That's not the point Y/N, I'm just saying, it's pretty childish to be like that after all I did was try to give you advice about working here," She diminishes everything she said and done in the past with ease, and it's almost amusing how wrong she is. 

"Okay Bridget, whatever. There's nothing you can say that changes how I feel about you, because you may say you 'only' did this and 'only' did that, but at the end of the day, you just weren't a good friend in the first place. So, whether you would've 'given your advice' or not, I still would've stopped talking to you at some point or another," I shrug, and this does not sit well with her. 

Clear anger builds in her gaze, and I only watch as she grows more and more petty in the moment. After her minute of passing rage, she shakes her head, scoffs, and laughs with audacity. "You know what Y/N? you want to know something? You're a hypocrite. You were always a hypocrite, the day you got here. I love how you said I don't take therapy circles or activities, as if you ever have. I've never seen you actually act like a real nurse. All you are is a Stanislav dick-rider who can't accept the fact that you're not better than everyone else! you never were! you only started wearing that shit on your face and began acting like a bitch because Stanislav gives you attention!" 

Within the burning second, I feel every built-up might within me burst, and a wave of uncontrollable shock and anger slam into my body. "Me!? You think I'm a hypocrite? you think I'm up myself? have you ever thought that maybe you're the one that's projecting your own issues onto me? because your insecure and have nobody else to leech onto anymore!? I've done more in this workplace within one month then you have in your whole time being here!" We enter a complete argument, her arm's waving around like a mad woman as we yell. The levels of anger only build and build, like a flood of rage expelling. 

"Oh, sure, I'm the insecure one. You can be serious Y/N, grow up. And honestly, what have you done here!? what, talked to a few patients maybe two times, put some shit away? that's about it, Y/N. You've done nothing here, and it's obvious! I've never seen you once do anything actually medical, and when you do, Stanislav's there! don't you think it's a little fucking weird to drool over a man while you're married!? Especially a man that you would never have a single chance with!?" 

Oh, to strangle this woman would be a dream at the moment. But anyway... 

"Don't you think it's a little weird how you were moved to the senior building for having inappropriate interactions with Stanislav in the past? Don't you think? it's not about 'having a chance' with him Bridget, you know why? because I'm not you! I don't stoop that low as person like you do!" 

I've never seen her anger completely disappear within a split second like this. Her rageful scowl instantly drops, and the realisation that I know more about her then what's let on smashes against her assumptions of me. She lets out another scoff and short, small laugh, but this time, it's forced. She doesn't want me to see that I've gotten under her skin; that I've backed her into a corner she can't escape from. 

"I'm not fighting with you about this," She finishes before making a swift turn, stomping away as her hair moves with her fast speed. I shake my head, taking in a heavy inhale before sighing deeply. Arguing with people like her is so draining. It's always so mind numbingly infuriating. Even worse, because it's so mind numbingly infuriating, it brings out the worst emotions within me, especially at the worst times. 

Because once her figure disappears down the hall and I take a moment to breathe, and I can feel myself becoming emotional. 

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