My Little Pup

Chapter 10

A blinding white light floods my vision. I feel very dizzy and disoriented as the sound of a muffled voice fills my ears.

"Can you hear me?" An unknown voice asks.

My eyes adjust to see a tall, lanky, slightly aged gentleman kneeling before me. He is adorned in a white lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck. A doctor? What's going on?

I muster a slight nod in response to his previous question. A quick glance around reveals that I'm back in Negan's room, my battered body laying on my designated bed. I'm shocked to notice that I am not chained to the bed frame.

Dwight is leaning against Negan's dresser, attentively guarding my limited movements. I attempt to sit up but am immediately overwhelmed by dizziness, causing the room to spin off kilter. The man gently coaxes me back down.

"Take it easy, you took a nasty lick to your noggin. More than likely suffered a concussion," he states dryly. Again, shining a penlight into my eyes to examine my current condition. "I'm Dr. Carson."

A replay of events flash through my mind – the meeting with my dad, Negan changing the terms, and the beating afterwards…. That accounts for the blackout and severe disorientation. It must have been one hell-of-a hit from Negan for me to still be feeling it's affects.

"Ho-how long was I-I out?"

"Couple hours, long enough for Negan to get you back here and to contact me. I've already assessed your other injuries." Dr. Carson explained, as he motions towards my body.

It's then that I notice that my right arm is now secured tightly against my body in a sling, ice packs are loosely wrapped against my ribs, and there are multiple bandages covering various wounds and scrapes on my body.

"From my examination, it appears that you have several cracked ribs, a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, deep tissue bruising, and several contusions and abrasions of varying degrees of severity. Stitches were required to close a wound on your cheek, my guess is from a well-placed punch. I'm floored that you were still functioning with as many injuries as you had." The doctor shakes his head in disbelief.

His verdict only confirms my original beliefs – I've been thrashed within an inch of my life from my time here at the Sanctuary.

A stabbing, surge of pain radiates through my body when I try to readjust myself on the bed. The aches and pains that I had previously felt pale in comparison to what I'm experiencing now. With my adrenaline now worn off, I can register every tortured sensation from my head to my toes. Burning tears freely fall as the pain consumes me.

Seeing my immense discomfort, the doctor turns to Dwight. "Go get the pain meds that are in my truck; they're much stronger than the ones that I brought upstairs with me."

"Negan said no meds. Let her suffer for a bit, then she'll learn." Dwight spits.

"I know what Negan said, but I'm the trained physician. Negan wants her coherent and alive, right? Well, get me the meds. The painkillers will incapacitate her and give her body the necessary time to heal itself. Makes for a faster recovery."

Dwight ponders this for a moment before storming out of the room to retrieve the materials, leaving the doctor and I unattended.