Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Freya is standing in front of me in her white lab coat, pulling on a pair of gloves. She snaps the latex against her skin, and I wince. Her expression doesn’t change, however, and she continues to stare at me as if I’m the stupidest person alive.
“You’re my bitch now,” she says. “Lift up your hoodie.”
I sigh, listening to her orders.
Freya groans. “And your shirt, dumbass.”
“Fine, fine,” I scoff, and lift up my shirt. Arlo is right behind me, staring at the back of my head. Chills spread all over my body, and although he’s not outright saying it, I can sense the judgment in his stare.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Freya blows out. “Why did you do this to yourself?”
“Well, I kind of had to.”
“You should’ve called me, I would’ve come,” she says, sitting on the chair and pulling herself closer to the bed.
She softly touches the skin around the terribly done stitch work, and I wince in pain.
“This is terrible. Once I take these out, I’ll know if there’s an infection. Just tell me there’s an exit hole.”
I nod. “I stitched that one, too.”
“Fantastic. Can you stop playing doctor from here on out, please?”
“I will,” I mumble.
The harder Freya is pressing to the wound, the more it hurts. I snap my eyes shut, feeling every nerve in my body ignites at her touch. To make matters even worse, she’s trying to be gentle.
“It’s swollen,” Freya mutters.
“Does she need to go to the hospital?” Arlo asks, worry evident in his voice.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll know when I see the damage.”
“Get it over with, please.”
Freya looks up at me. “I can’t just take them out. It’s already painful, and I’m not even directly touching them. I need to use numbing cream, then local anesthesia. Sit tight, this is going to take a while.”
She stands up, tossing the gloves into the small trash can. “I’ll go grab everything I need.”
The moment she’s out of the room, Arlo sits on the bed next to me. He holds my hand in his, rubbing the back of my palm with his thumb. The motion is soothing, and as I lower my clothes again, I wince a little.
“You should’ve told me immediately,” Arlo says. “This is a priority.”
“I’m sorry,” I sigh.
“What did I tell you about apologizing?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “I know you’re worried. I’ll be fine. At worst, we’ll have to have a small trip to the hospital. But I believe in Freya’s abilities here.”
“I’m glad you think so highly of her, but Freya is a chemist, not a doctor.”
I shrug. “She did go to med school for a few years. I think she knows how to do stitches.”
“Fine, but if she says she can’t do it, we’re going to the hospital.”
I smile. “Okay.”
Freya returns with some medical equipment, putting the grey tray on the small table next to me. She puts on a new pair of gloves, and Arlo helps me take off my clothes. It hurts, but I know it’s my own fault.
He tosses a small blanket over my shoulders to keep me at least somewhat warm while Freya does her thing.
The numbing cream is cold, and I snap my eyes shut while she applies it as close as possible to the wound. She carefully spreads a thin layer of it everywhere, then pulls back.
“We’ll wait a few minutes, then inject you with anesthesia. Are you feeling alright?”
I nod. “I’ll be fine.”
“Once I’m done, and assuming I’ll be able to fix it, when showering, you’ll cover the gauze in a thick layer of seran wrap. You can’t get it wet.”
“Okay.”
My eyes follow Freya’s movements when she reaches for the anesthesia, my eyes widening. “Now, now, why the hell is the needle so big?”
She rolls her eyes, before she pushes the needle into my skin. It’s not terrible, only a prickling sensation. I relax instantly, and close my eyes.
In silence, Freya works on me for a while, removing the old stitches, and cleaning the wound. I don’t dare look at what she’s doing, keeping my eyes closed. I’m not scared of blood, but seeing myself being stitched up just makes me nauseous.
Arlo’s hand is on my shoulder, rubbing it, in an attempt to soothe me.
“It’s not infected, thank God,” Freya breathes out. “It swelled up because of your terrible work. So, I can’t restitch it immediately. Come back tomorrow when the swelling’s gone down. I’ll give you some pain meds, because you’ll definitely need them.”
“Thank you.”
“Welcome,” Freya says, and stands up once she’s done wrapping me up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Now, I do have something for you,” Arlo says, coming to stand in front of me. He pulls out a couple of ID’s from his pocket, handing them all to me.”
I frown. “What’s this for?”
“Well, since Amy is now Blair Hawke… I thought you might not want to live the rest of your life as Amy Marshall. So, I chose some pretty names, and it’s your pick.”
I skim through all the ID’s, with a raised brow. “Why are all surnames De Santis? It’s like we’re married.”
Arlo steps back, scratching the back of his head anxiously. He laughs, but it’s the nervous kind of laugh that immediately makes me suspicious.
“See, about that,” he laughs again, not looking into my eyes. He’s avoiding my gaze like the plague.
“What is it, Arlo? Spill.”
“Eighteen-year-old me was… well… stupid.”
I blink. “Elaborate, now!”
“I saw you and knew you were it for me. So uh…”
“Yes?”
He looks at me, swallowing harshly. “I may or may not have already married us without your knowledge.”
“We’ve been married for years?!”
The gasp that leaves my lips is one of a kind. My eyes are as wide as possible, words getting stuck in my throat. And there Arlo stands, a little bit sheepish, and not at all apologetic.