Chapter 22- Burgers

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Kind of a weird chapter title, but I just had a burger....so wth? ;)

~MS~

~~~

"And what did he threaten, Keona?" the physiologist leaned closer slightly, his clipboard clutched tightly against his legs.

My gaze drifted to where Mitchell and Gideon sat in the room. Gideon held his hands together, face leaning into them with his thumb pressing on his chin. Mitchell was looking at the floor, arms crossed, and leaned back on the couch.

I looked back to the man carefully. "I-I don't really remember."

I felt all eyes in the room turn to me. Gideon had even pulled away from his hands to look straight at me. The physiologist looked stunned.

"Are you sure, Keona?"

"Can we end this for today?" I asked, feeling my forehead. "I'm tired."

The man glanced to the other two men in the room and then nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Once the door shut behind the physiologist, I stuck my tongue out where he disappeared. "Don't bet on it, bastard!"

"He's just trying to help, Keo," Mitchell murmured.

"I remember," I narrowed my eyes and made Gideon widen his gaze.

"What?" both men breathed.

"I didn't want to tell that guy everything. It seems like there's no one who I can trust except for you two now," I admitted. "Why should I tell him? Is it so he can try to heal me with his words? Bullshit."

"Continue what you're doing then," Gideon seemed to agree. "And trust who you think should be trusted."

"Can we go?" I asked.

Mitchell nodded and then stood, walking over to where I sat in the wheelchair in a few steps. Gideon followed his moves, opening the room door.

"I'm hungry," I growled, squeezing the sides of the wheelchair.

"What do you want?" Mitchell asked.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Something that isn't moldy hospital meals."

Gideon chuckled. "They aren't moldy."

"Fine," I shrugged again. "But they aren't healthy for you, that's for sure."

As Mitchell pushed me out of the room, I felt a lot of eyes turn to me. Most of the people in this part of the hospital could walk on their own. They could speak without a pause. I felt venerable, open to the strikes of the daggers.

Gideon walked on my right, his steps light and his gaze focused in front of him. Mitchell pushed me in silence, the office we passed through the same way.

After being spun around in the wheel chair in the elevator, I sighed. Mitchell put his hand on my shoulder.

"I feel like a doll. Being dressed, fed, carted around," I breathed.

"As soon as you're out of here, I'll make sure to take you places to helps soothe you needs," Mitchell spoke gently.

"Then take me out shooting," I murmured. "Let me fight."

"Not fucking happening," Gideon growled.

"Why?" I looked up at him.

Gideon gazed down at me in silence, contemplating on his reply. He knew he would always win this argument, but he tried to do so politely.

"You can barely walk as it is, Keona," Mitchell spoke slowly. "We'll see where you're at in a few months."

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