Damian hates his boss, his doctor has just told him he's got an inoperable brain tumour, and he's about to meet the Devil and the girl of his dreams, when all he really wanted was coffee and a sandwich. You might say it's not his day... or it could...
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Well it turns out La Morte is really fucking stupid for a building. I had four weeks of blissful, undisturbed slumber and then last night the bitch broke the truce. I am now sitting here nursing a broken left hand. It should have been my right, but then again it might have been my neck. I can't complain too much. I thought this old girl had gotten the message. I'm not to be trifled with. I guess she thought she was clever. Breaking my hand. Thinking I can't do her any more damage with my hammer and nails. Ha! I would walk over a bed of hot coals if I thought it would make this damned place leave me alone for good. I'm not even 2 months into my stay yet. I'm not putting up with anymore crap. Today a doctor is coming to set my hand. I've told them I'm agoraphobic. Can't go outside. So they'll come to me. Lucky. Anyway. At least I can still go to the toilet by myself. I'm not risking anything tonight though. Two weeks ago my brother dropped off all the artwork I own. As soon as the doctor has gone I'm going to hang me some pictures!
The doctor is 15 minutes late. Not too bad really considering. He meets us out back of the café and looks me up and down. I'm sure I seem pale and sickly. Thankfully I can blame this on "pain". He sits down across from me and examines my hand, while his nurse gets everything else ready.
'Yep, definitely broken, good call there,' he smiles.
'Yeah I figured when I couldn't move the fingers....'
'This won't take long. I'm just going to give you something local for the pain and then we can sort this out. Are you sure you don't want an X-ray first?'
'Can you do that here?'
'No,' he laments, 'I wish I could but the law would kill me,' he smiles again. I like him. He does things outside the box. Hence I'm not being dragged screaming out the door. To a hospital. Where I should be.
'I appreciate you coming out to do this though.'
'Don't thank me until you heal straight, otherwise you will have to come into hospital and they'll have to break and re-set your hand.'
I shudder. Fuck that.
'I'm sure it will be fine. I'm a good healer,' I smile weakly.
'Can I get you a drink, anyone?' pipes up Erica, popping her head around the door.
'No thank you,' reply the doctor and nurse as one. Luke chooses this moment to appear.
'Well my goodness what has happened!' he feigns surprise. I know nothing surprises him really.
'Had a bit of a fall,' I lie, obviously.
'Yes, I can see the stairs there, had a few too many?' he smiles awkwardly. That was an odd thing to say.
'Uh... yeah sure.'
'Well just sit tight, I'll be done soon,' he says getting to work finally. He dips his head and concentrates on my hand. Doing his best to get it right.
