Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

106. Just Another Day

---

"Hey, Carrie?"

My coworker sat up straight in her rolling chair and looked up at me. "What's up?"

"Can we swap patients? My guy in room 14 just fired me."

"Why? " she drawled, raising an eyebrow. "What'd you do?"

"My job," I quipped, crossing my arms and leaning my hip against the counter beside her. "He said he doesn't want an 'apple-muncher' touching him or his meds."

"For fuck's sake." She sighed in annoyance. "Okay, I'll take him—you can have my lady in 7."

"You better not be giving me your worst patient."

"She's fine," Carrie replied. "She's just confused and likes to take everything off and wander around."

"Fun," I deadpanned. "Is that all?"

"Yeah, but I mean, she's not exactly the most aesthetically pleasing patient I've ever had," she remarked. "Kind of looks like a shriveled-up raisin. Pretty sure everyone up here has seen her goodies by now."

I smirked. "I'm pretty sure everyone up here has seen my goodies, too, at this point, so at least we've got that in common."

Carrie shrugged. "Could be worse—at least it was just your abdomen we were messing with. You could've been like Missy and had all your coworkers see your cooch while you forced out a nine-pound baby."

I inhaled sharply through my teeth. "Jesus, he was nine pounds? "

"Yep. Nine pounds, five ounces."

I visibly cringed at her answer. "Goddamn, poor Missy. How did someone so tiny make such a fatass baby?"

"No clue. Must have been from Reggie's side."

I pulled up a chair next to Carrie, to which she responded, "Don't get too close to me, girl. You sound like you're coming down with something."

"I might be," I mumbled. "My boyfriend got kind of sick earlier this week."

"And you just couldn't keep your hands off each other for a few days," she remarked, then smirked at me in amusement. "Understandable. He looks like the type to be an animal in the sack."

"Jesus, Carrie. . ."

After successfully steering the conversation back to work, I proceeded to give Carrie report on my prejudiced patient, and in turn she told me about her confused stripping grandma. Not long after, I entered my new patient's room with a syringe of medication—and she screamed the instant I touched her arm.

"Help!" she shouted, flailing around and writhing in the hospital bed. "Help! This apple-muncher's gonna kill me!"

I sighed. I'd admittedly had enough blatant bigotry from these people for one night, even if the ones doing it were not in their right minds.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, sweetheart," I cooed, slowly reaching for the IV in her forearm. "I just need to give you some medicine. It's gonna help bring your blood pressure back dow—"

The air was immediately knocked out of my lungs when the old woman roughly swung her arm directly into my stomach, her bony clenched fist hitting me directly in my healing belly wound.

I gasped, stumbling back from the bed a few steps and leaning a hand on the nightstand. The syringe of medication slipped from my grasp and fell to the floor with a light click, and I clutched my gut in a vain attempt to lessen the intense ache rippling through me.