Noah sat perched on the stiff hospital bed, his gaze fixed on the rhythmic movement of the doctor's needle as it pierced and then retreated from his skin, each puncture accompanied by a fresh trickle of blood. Despite the discomfort, Noah remained calm. This wasn't the first time Noah had found himself in need of stitches, and it wasn't the first time he had endured the procedure. The memory of his first stitching, administered not by a trained medical professional but by Dhakirah, lingered in his mind. There had been no painkillers to dull the sensation, only raw agony as he worked to close the wound.
Though Noah felt the tug and pull of his flesh as the doctor carefully stitched him up, he was oddly detached from any physical reaction. The pain was there, an ever-present undercurrent, but Noah remained numb to the demands to scream.
The doctor glanced up at him and their gaze met briefly, then he turned to the nurse "How many doses did you inject for the numbing?" the doctor enquired from the nurse beside him.
The nurse stared back at him confused "None, he came in haste and the other nurse was here, so I thought she already gave him some. Did you receive any injections, sir?" The nurse returned the question to Noah holding a confused gaze.
"I didn't receive any shots," Noah replied, causing the nurse to freeze. "I came in rather quickly, so perhaps there was a miscommunication."
Noah watched as the doctor's expression shifted, suspicion etching lines between his brows as he finished stitching the wound without further comment. With a sense of unease settling over him, Noah observed as the doctor left briefly, only to return with a file in hand. His soft blue eyes bore into Noah's, a hint of confusion evident in their depths as he spoke.
"Do you suffer from CIPA?" the doctor inquired, his voice gentle yet probing, as if seeking confirmation of a suspicion.
Noah raised a brow, trying to decipher the acronym the doctor had mentioned. Then it clicked. Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis. It was a rare condition characterized by the inability to feel pain "No, why?"
The nurse shared a look with the doctor, "You didn't seem hurt by the stitching even when the area was not numb and the wound was so deep." She explained, her voice laced with concern.
"Oh," Noah uttered before staring at the stitch, "It was hurting, it is still hurting. I can feel it, I didn't think it was necessary to disrupt your work by screaming and shifting like a child." Noah said innocently, surprising them all.
The doctor couldn't make a clear sense of what he just said, "Get Beatrice," He instructed as he approached Noah. Taking the tissue half covered in blood from his grips.
"What happened to you? Accident?" He tried to stir up a conversation.
Noah nonchalantly wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve, the fabric staining with blood as he did so. The doctor tried to overlook Noah's apparent indifference to his injuries as he continued to tend to him.
"Got jumped by some other students," Noah replied casually, his tone emotionless.
The doctor grimaced, "Terrible." he murmured sympathetically, his fingers deftly tilting Noah's head so he could address his injured nose. Noah offered only a grunt in response.
As Beatrice stepped into the room, her presence seemed to add a layer of tension to the already fraught atmosphere. Her smirk, more sardonic than sympathetic, hinted at an underlying disdain as she studied Noah's condition. "Look at who we have here." She smiled but it looked fake.
"The last time I saw you, you were just a kid," Beatrice remarked with an attitude. "I met Cordelia in the waiting room. She looks ghostly. What trouble did you get yourself in again?" Her words dripped with mockery as she took in Noah's injuries.
YOU ARE READING
Days Are Numbered
Ficção AdolescenteNOAH MERRIDEW is your typical popular kid who can't keep his emotions composed. Being the only child of a rich couple he is spoilt and rotten to the core with all his caprices being answered. However, thing takes a different turn when his father die...
