Fragmented ✔️

17. Scar tissue

Dr Westcott's voice petered out as I focused on his ginormous nostrils flaring out, then getting sucked in when he breathed. If I angled my head lower and looked up, I could see three thick grey hairs sticking out of the end of it. I bet he had hairy ears to match.

"Miss Leighton, are we distracted today?" His dreary voice broke my thoughts.

"Not really. I'm bored." My toes tapped inside my boots and my attention moved from the doctor's nose to the colour of my shoes. Maybe I'll get a pair of these in brown.

"Your parents-"

"Yeah, I know. They pay you loads of money so you can keep telling them I'm fucked up." I sighed and shuffled in my seat, gripping on the leather at the same time. I didn't mean to snap, but Mum had forced me to make my monthly doctor's appointment, the same one I avoided each month. Those visits felt pointless. What else could he do for me? The outcome would never change.

"That wasn't what I was about to say." Dr Westcott clicked his pen lid on and moved over to examine my arm. Not denying the money comment. "The scar tissue has healed nicely. Any sensation?" He pressed over the raised line on my left forearm and I winced.

Fucking right it did. "When you do that there is." I covered my scar with my hand and pulled away from his grasp. One thing that bothered me most about him was his lack of personal space. He should have asked before touching.

"That's a good sign. It means your nerves are healing. What about your facial scarring?"

"A bit tight and uncomfortable, but not as painful. My arm one itches. Will they always be so visible?" I knew the answer to my question and had once been on the other side, reassuring patients, even giving some of them false hope.

"We could start you on a course of steroid injections but would prefer to wait a few more months before we take that step." Dr Westcott returned to his computer and focused on the screen. "In the meantime, continue massaging the area with the retinol oil drops we recommended." He typed a few notes, the clicking sound of his keyboard echoing through the room. "How are the group sessions with Miss Levant going? I'm pleased you're giving them a shot."

A smile played on my lips. My therapy sessions shouldn't make my stomach flip, but I couldn't help thinking of Matt when he mentioned them. "Good. Better than I thought, actually. Everyone's nice."

"Good, good. Would you consider an extra hour with her on a one-to-one basis?"

"Not yet," I answered all too quickly.

His fingers froze over the keyboard and he interlocked them as he placed his elbows on his rich mahogany desk. "Miss Leighton, I don't need to remind you how important those talks are."

"For me or for you?" I interrupted, my lips pulled tight together. More visits meant more money for him.

"Miss Leighton, we should be taking more steps forward and having this extra time with Miss Levant will only accelerate the healing process. We are both well aware of how much you detest your appointments here. Wouldn't you want to see her more so you see less of me?"

"Well, when you put it like that. I'd probably do anything," I dipped my chin and mumbled against my shoulder, but not quiet enough.

"Always a pleasure," he shot back and smiled before jotting down something in his prescription pad. "These capsules will help with the disturbed sleep. Your mother is aware." He handed the slip over.

Sleeping tablets? Yep, no chance I was taking them and feeling even more out of control. "Thanks." I slid the piece of paper into my back pocket and after the briefest of chats with Agnes, the sweetest receptionist to grace our town, I hurried to a waiting Zaire in the clinic's parking area.