“Tobias is busy, he will be in a little later,” he tells me. I just nod and look away. As soon as the door opens Theo walks out and straight to his office. Thank God I have done my hair and make-up in the car. That was the most awkward exchange we have ever had. It’s like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
Going to my desk, I switch the computer on and turn the phones over when I bump my hip on the edge of the table. I hiss at the jolt of pain, my eyes almost cross at the sudden flare. I have been cleaning it regularly and changing the dressing, but it’s taking a long time to heal, and I’m reminded of my infection worry. Checking Theo is still in his office, I sneak over to the small bathroom. I haven’t checked it since yesterday.
Pulling my blouse up, I peel back the bandage. The edge is stuck and I can feel the fabric pulling at the edge of the wound. It starts bleeding. Grabbing a tissue, I dab at it. It’s definitely infected. I should have just tried to sew it myself.
My skin is red and angry with traces of pus oozing from the center, and the edges just won’t close together. The slightest bump makes it reopen. The door bursts open, I drop my shirt, covering myself, but it’s too late. Theo sees my battle wound in the mirror above the sink. His face contorts before he drops his gaze to the ground. His jaw clenches and I can see the vein in his head near his temple pulse. I’m positive I locked the door. How did he get in?
I lift my head up and he meets my gaze. His eye is twitching and that vein is pulsing. What is he angry about? He’s the one that walked in on me! Ignoring my stunned expression, he walks over and lifts the corner of my blouse, exposing my wound. “How did you do that?” He demands, staring into my eyes.
My ears have to be playing tricks on me, because I swear I hear him say something else but his lips barely move. “I knew I smelled blood.” I look back wondering if I heard what I think I did, but he’s inspecting the slash across my hip. “I asked how did you do this?” He snaps at me.
What a weird turn of events, the mean one has turned gentle and the nice one is growling like an animal at me.
“On a piece of wire,” I reply, glancing away from his eyes.
“When?” He stresses. I try to pull my shirt down, to hide the wound. I’m taking care of it, I don’t need him. He pushes my hand aside, “This is infected, come with me,” he says, grabbing my hand and tugging me towards his office. He makes a phone call, talking so fast into the phone I don’t catch a word of what he says. “Sit,” he orders. I sit down, not knowing what else to do. I don’t want to get in any more trouble than I know I’m already in. I’d be grateful if they don’t fire me after learning I have been trespassing for months in the garage, on their company property.
I don’t know how long we wait. Him staring at me, and me trying to do everything but meet his eyes. After an eternity, a man walks in, he has a white doctor’s coat on and scrubs underneath. He carries a huge box that I assume is a medical kit. Theo motions towards me and I stand up before the doctor pushes me towards the couch. “Lay down, Imogen,” Theo orders, I wince at his tone. He’s furious, but what have I done?
I quickly obey and the doctor lifts my shirt. He doesn’t say a word to me. He pulls the side of my pants down, exposing my hip. He prods the area with his fingertips, eyes focused on my reaction. I manage to only swallow instead of whimper like I want to. He doesn’t exactly have a gentle bedside manner. Nodding to himself, he gathers some supplies from his bag and gets to work. He cleans the wound, a lot more aggressively than I have prior to this. The alcohol burns and I clench my eyes shut to keep from breaking down. He pulls out a needle next. I jump up, but Theo forces me back, his hands on my shoulders pushing me back down. “Don’t make me hold you down,” he challenges. I relax my shoulders and muster up what courage I have. He can’t fire me after all this torture at least.
“This may hurt,” the doctor warns me. I nod and focus on his face while he goes to work stitching me up. The doctor is maybe thirty years old at most, not that old at all for a doctor. He has dark hair and brown eyes the same color as mud. He tries to be gentle, but it doesn’t stop the hurt and sting, my hands begin to sweat, he stops a few times when I wriggle too much. One look from Theo though makes me freeze.
When he finishes, he places waterproof gauze over the top and stands up. Rummaging through his bag, he hands me a bottle of pills. “Take these three times a day, they will help clear up the infection. You’ll probably want some pain pills as well, you let it get pretty bad. Take what you need to fight the fever and drink plenty of water.” I grab the small bottle and read it, Cephalexin, an antibiotic. I nod and look up to say thanks, but he’s already gone.
Theo however watches me. “Why didn’t you get that looked at earlier? You could have avoided all this,” he motions with his hand. He sounds angry and I drop my eyes to the floor. Wait, this is what he’s angry at me about? The wound?
“Because I hate hospitals,” I answer in a soft voice, almost a whisper. Theo steps closer, his hand guiding my chin forcing me to look at him. His eyes search mine for any deception. I don’t know what he sees but he lets go and walks out, leaving me standing in his office.