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Patience strengthens the spirit, sweetens the temper, stifles anger, extinguishes envy, subdues pride, bridles the tongue.
-George Horne
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☪Diana
||New York||
10:47 pm
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2 months later-
Over the past months Levi and I, have become more close. We were taking things slow, and basically getting to know each other more. So far we've been on seven dates, and tonight would make it date number eight.
"Nurse Thompson, your phone is ringing." One of the nurses says, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I sighed heavily, before declining the unknown number once again.
Over the past month, the strange phone calls started again. Whoever that was calling stuck with the same routine, of not saying a word whenever I picked up. The only thing I heard when I answered was heavy breathing.
No matter how much I would block the number, whoever it was still found a way to call. It's gotten to the point, where I have to just keep my phone off.
"Sorry about that," I mumbled, walking out of the nurse's station.
"Thompson." Dr. Sheppard says approaching me. "I need you."
"For?"
Dr. Sheppard gulps, before clearing his throat. "There's a little girl here, who sadly has bruises all over her body.
I frown. "I'm not a pediatrician, nor do I treat younger patients," I said, walking at a faster pace.
"Indeed you don't, but you are in fact good with children. Which is something half these nurses lack." He says. "Now could you please just check her out. Maybe you could get her, to tell us who gave her does bruise."
I sighed, facing him. "Your lucky I have a soft spot for children. What room is she is in?"
Dr. Sheppard smiles. "Room 311." He says, handing me the girl chart."
I take a quick glance at the chart, reading the things I need to remember. Opening the door to 311, I walked into the small room. My eyes falling on the beautiful little person sitting on the bed.
"Hi, Mindy," I say, approaching the little girl. Her head turns to me, and I watch as she eyes me down. "My name is Diana, but most people call me nurse Thompson."
Mindy stays quite, starting at me as if she's looking for something. She bites her lips and slightly bends her head down. Analyzing my every move. Her hands hold onto one another, while her body shakes.
I hesitantly walk towards her side, quickly putting on a pair of plastic gloves in the process.
"Is it okay if I take a look up your shirt for a moment?" I questioned. The ten-year-old nods her head, and I take that as my cue to inspect her bruises. Slowly lifting up her shirt, my heart clenched at the sight. Purple welts were scattered across her abdomen like a disease.
YOU ARE READING
ѕage ιn тнe ѕecerтѕ: тнe ғυcĸed υp ғaмιly ѕerιeѕ вooĸ 2
General FictionDiana Thompson hides behind a capable facade. One that's also strict and a little coarse. In reality, she's frightened, all of it is something she uses to deal with a past so shocking she'd never reveal it to anyone. She was born in a town called Ri...
