Blood Iris

Chapter Ten

I stumbled against the door frame, trying not to fall on my face. I heard frantic footsteps behind me and hushed, panicked voices.

"Someone call a doctor!" A slightly familiar voice yelled.

"I'm a doctor, I can help." Another voice called.

I tried to pay attention to what they were saying, but my attention seemed to be drawn to the pain in my thigh and the ache in my ribs. My shoulder was vying for my attention along with my face.

I felt strong arms under my arms and along my back. Another man, I'm assuming it was the doctor, grasped my legs, and helped carry me to an empty room. They laid me down and the doctor ran across the room to get his bag of medical supplies. He laid everything out and then looked me over. He began touching tender spots on my stomach where the bruising was worst. I let out a sharp cry that turned into a whimper.

"Broken ribs, gunshot wound in shoulder and thigh, and possibly head trauma. Is there anything else?" The doctor asked.

I opened my mouth and pointed to my back teeth. He inhaled sharply, trying not to look shocked.

"I'm going to start with your leg first. It's the worst. It will hurt a lot, but try not to move too much." He looked behind me, "Evan, will you hold her down?"

I winced as the doctor tore my pants just above the wound. I flinched when he brought the gleaming tools closer to me.

Evan, the officer's son, held my arms and shoulders down, he eased up on my hurt shoulder when I winced in pain. He was very strong. I tried to distract myself as the doctor picked up a large pair of tweezers. They brought back way to many horrifying memories of doctor's tools in dark rooms with psychotic interrogators.

I began struggling before he even put the cleansing ointment on. I was screaming at him to stop. Evan tried to hold me down, but I was too determined and terrified, my adrenaline not quite worn off. I kicked and struggled, my foot colliding with the doctor's face. I knocked the tray of medical tools off the small table they were on. I struggled out of Evan's strong hold, opening my shoulder wound further. The doctor tried to get closer but only got kicked in the chest.

I jumped up, limping and struggling to stand. Evan tried to grab my arms again, but I just pushed him out of the way and yelled at the doctor, "Get out! Don't ever hurt me again! Stop torturing me!"

I stumbled to the cot as the doctor scrambled away, not even looking back. Evan just stood in the doorway, looking helpless.

I leaned my back against the wall, easing the pressure off my ribs.

"You need serious medical attention. Let me call the doctor back and-" I interrupted him.

"No!" I wouldn't let anyone else hurt me.

"But you need medical attention-"

"So I'll do it myself! Hand me the tweezers and a small towel. Now!" I ordered him.

He bent down to pick up the fallen tweezers and grabbed a towel off the counter. He handed them to me silently.

I took the towel between my teeth and the tweezers in one hand. My other hand grasped the railing on the foot of the bed.

I took a deep breath, then plunged the tweezers into the wound. My screams were muffled by the towel in my mouth, but the pain could not be muffled. I found the bullet, buried deep in my leg. I quickly pulled it out and dropped it, with the tweezers, on the floor.

Evan was by my side in a split second. He had bandages from the doctor's bag.

I didn't even struggle as he applied padding and bandages. I tried to focus on his gentle, slow movements, rather than the excruciating pain. His touch was oddly distracting and I found it a soothing relief to focus on his touch rather than the pain that traveled throughout my lower body.

When he was done, I pried my hands off of the bed railing. I slumped down onto the bed, too exhausted to care about the rest of my wounds.

"Shouldn't you at least clean the rest of your injuries?" Evan tried to get me to respond, but I couldn't find the energy to move.

Finally, he left the room and came back with a glass of water, and packages of disinfectant wipes. He brought me to a sitting position and put the glass to my lips.

I drank the water too fast. I choked and coughed, whimpering and moaning from the pain my coughing caused in my ribs. Evan took the water away and opened the wipes. He sat across from me on the bed.

"I'm going to get this blood off of your face, okay?" He asked me, but I didn't respond, so he proceeded.

I closed my eyes as I felt the cool wipes on my forehead. Although the wipes stung the scars on my skin, it felt good to get the blood and grime off my face. I tried not to notice too much how warm his hands were on my skin and how close his face was.

I gasped and opened my eyes as he tried to wipe my nose; it was pretty badly bruised.

I could see the pity in his eyes as he asked, "What happened to you?"

I looked away from those dark, probing eyes that could see everything. "I don't want to talk about it."

He turned my face back to his, and I thought he was going to say something, but he just silently continued to clean the blood off my face.

I watched his face, his brows drawn together in concentration and confusion. I tried to ignore how handsome he was, but I couldn't, so I closed my eyes again.

Eventually he finished and I went to lay down. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.