Splintered

Chapter Seven: Bandages That Cover More Than Bruises and Scrapes

Dying golden light shimmered as it reflected off the several feet of newly laid-out snow. Roasted potatoes, herb-seasoned vegetables, and chicken-scented air wafted through the otherwise stale library. The walls wore varnished rows of wood shelves. Every inch was covered in a quilt of books in all shapes, densities, and colors. Burnt orange leather chairs were clustered about.

The room was like something out of a fairy tale, albeit highly under-utilized since the family had moved in. Hazel sunk further into the chair in which she was currently trapped, breathing in the familiar scents, hoping they would calm the nervousness tickling her limbs. While the chair was comfortable, the elegant clothes Indira had practically forced her into were anything but.

Festus Creed idled past the rows of books, running a finger over their spines. A dull thrum filled the air as he walked.

"Festus," Indira called, arms crossed, "Can you stop that?"

His curly hair bounced as he sighed like a kid waiting for his parents to be done with grocery shopping, "How long is this going to take?"

"Not much longer, Mr. Creed." Dr. Calyx replied, "Maybe grab one of those to read while you wait."

Festus scowled at the books like they were sour milk on his tongue.

Indira gestured to an open seat, "Or at least just sit down and stop fidgeting."

"I don't understand why this is necessary. You two were out here barely a couple of weeks ago, and she looks..." Festus scanned her face, squinting his eyes a bit, "Well tired, but no worse for the wear."

"I would have asked for you to visit sooner if I knew you'd be handing out compliments," Hazel mumbled.

Festus smirked and pushed away from using the books as a makeshift xylophone. He sunk into the seat nearest to her. "You missed me, don't pretend."

Hazel sent him a lopsided smirk. Surprisingly, she had. She'd missed them both. While they were living and breathing reminders of the worst experience of her life, she felt bonded to them in a way.

"Mr. Creed, I assure you our visit is absolutely necessary as well as mandatory." Dr. Savi brought Hazel's bare left palm closer to his face. His knowledgeable eyes were bug-like behind a pair of black spectacles. His lips crinkled but not into a smile but something more similar to disappointment. "Looks like healing is not progressing as much as I would like." Hazel fought to hold herself still under his highly focused scrutiny.

"I've been trying to tell her, doc," Sable mumbled from the doorway.

Hazel scooted even deeper into the too-soft chair. The library should've been a peaceful room, but at that moment, it was more like a nicely decorated, dinner-scented exhibit case. Indira, Festus, Sable, and Leo formed the haphazard audience, watching the doctors' work.

"He just doesn't like running," Hazel muttered as she stared down at the gash. The stitches were gone, and pale, silvery scar tissue skirted the wound's edges. However, the center remained an angry pink. Slight circular bruises littered the surrounding skin, and several drops of blood were peeking out of the open areas.

"You need to take better care of this." Dr. Savi released her hand as he began to dig through his bag. "Let it heal."

"Exactly," Sable replied with a smirk. Hazel narrowed her eyes at him.

"Is it infected, doctor?" Indira inquired, her deep yet warm voice relaxed Hazel a bit.

"Not right now." Dr. Savi didn't look up as he laid out the various bandage items on the table next to Hazel.

"Then why is it not healing?" Festus asked with a tilt of his head.

Dr. Savi met Hazel's eyes, "Overuse, most likely."