Of Illnesses And Antidotes

Chapter Sixteen

"How are you, Naomi?"

"Fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You don't look fine."

"I'm fine."

Doctor Warren lets out a sigh and purses her lips. "If you say so."

I don't even flinch as the needle is driven into my arm. Pain no longer fazes me. I've been through so much suffering, I've accustomed to ignoring my emotions and carrying on like the warrior I am. Besides, it's not like I'm five. It's not like I've lost the only two people who ever truly cared about me. She was just a girl; a person I knew.

A person I trusted.

A friend.

Something stings my eye. I hurriedly wipe it away. "Did you say something?"

Doctor Warren shakes her head, smiling. "Don't worry about it."

My eyes narrow. "What did you say?" I ask sharply.

"Nothing, honestly." She turns her back to me and shuffles her files around.

Standing up, I fold my arms and frown. "How did it happen?"

"Huh?"

"How did she die?"

Doctor Warren stop moving. Her body may be still, but it remains calm and composed. She shows no signs of anxiety or worry. Her shoulders are relaxed, her hands don't shake and her eyes drift upwards languidly. Slowly, she swivels around, a solemn expression cast upon her face.

"That's not the sort of question you should be asking, Naomi." Her voice is serious and it rings with warning.

"But Doctor Warren..."

"You're grieving. The answer to that is the last thing you need to hear."

"But I want to hear it!" I plead. "Please, just tell me."

Doctor Warren places both of her hands on my shoulders gently and she looks me in the eyes. Her hands are soft, comforting. "What you want to do is go back to your dormitory and grieve. Take time off from your job; I'm sure the pharmacy can manage without you for a few days."

"What do you mean?" Perplexity is sewn into my words. "What does grieve mean?"

Val would know what it means.

I push that thought out of my head.

"It's when you mourn for the loss of a close relative or friend," Doctor Warren explains softly. "You feel sad for a while because you're trying to cope with the idea of them being gone forever."

"I don't need to do that," I mutter bitterly, turning away. My fingers reach up and curl around the locket. The cold metal sends a rush of solace down my spine. "I'm fine."

"No you're not, Naomi." Doctor Warren's voice is firmer. "You may think you are, but you're not. Everyone has lost someone and everyone has acted the same. Take it from the people who know."

I stay silent for a moment, contemplating her words, then turn back around to face her. "Have you ever lost someone, Doctor Warren?"

She doesn't say anything to start with. Then she sighs and quietly says, "Yes. But it was a long time ago." Suddenly, she seems older. Her eyes are weighed down by bags that are lightly concealed with a lick of makeup and her skin is disseminated with sunspots. Thin furrows dart across her cheeks and her forehead, weaving in between her features like a string threading together a patchwork of cloth. Her expression aches with fatigue.