- SIXTEEN #3
I followed behind in a haze of uncertainty about my situation as a whole, and shock at human kindness after such open displays of fae cruelty.
She was right. I needed to get cleaned up.
I wouldn't be any good dying of infection from the stupid cuts on my arms. From there, I needed to get clean and changed.
Then I needed to see if someone would help me with money for a train or bus or something back home so I could figure out where all my stuff was, get some money, and plan my next steps.
Whatever the hell they were.
But one thing at a time.
I was led to a small house at the edge of town with Dr. Robbins on a sign out front.
Going in, I realized that calling it a doctor's office was perhaps a little generous.
It was obviously also Dr. Robbins place of residence.
As Lily went straight into the back to, I imagined, relay what she thought was a delicate situation to the good doc, I grabbed a newspaper off the desk, checking the date. June third.
Christ.
I had lost so much time.
"This is Dr. Robbins, dear," Lily's kind voice said soothingly as she walked out with a man who was seventy-five if he was a day, all slicked back gray hair, giant glasses, and thin frame.
But he had kind and intelligent brown eyes and a lab coat on.
Hell, I had been putting freaking yarrow leaves on my feet.
Any kind of medical treatment would do at that point.
"I'm Cece," I said as he stretched his hand out for me to take.
"Well Cece, it looks like you are a little banged up. How about you come back into the exam room and my nurse, Milly," he said, waving his hand to a woman behind him in cheery yellow scrubs with a pleasantly round frame and a sweet face, "and I and we will get you all fixed up."
"Thank you," I said, tongue tripping clumsily over the phrase, having gotten used to it being forbidden.
Millie led me into the room first. "I have to ask, Cece," she said, her tone tentative as she reached for a hospital gown.
"I wasn't raped," I said firmly and she visibly relaxed. "I don't need a rape kit or to talk to a sheriff or anything like that. I just need a shower and maybe some triple antibiotic."
"Well," she said, smiling, and opening the door again. "We can certainly help you there. There is a shower right down the hall. Feel free to use anything you need. Take your time. We will be waiting for you to fix you up when you get out."
With that, I was shown to a small bathroom with a stall shower I wasn't sure I could even turn around in, but even so, I almost wanted to cry at the idea of getting clean. I was handed the gown, a towel, and a washcloth and left alone.
I really should have expected what I walked back out into. In the hall was the good doc, Millie, Lily, and the sheriff. Of course.
They wanted my story, so I gave it to them.
I left out the fact that the man chasing me was actually multiple men and that he was fae, but I gave a vague description that seemed to satisfy all involved parties.
Then I was led into the exam room where my arms were cleaned.
Some of the cuts just got some cream. Two on my right arm needed stitches, just six for one and eight for the other.
Nothing crazy. My feet were mostly healed, just a few blisters from all the walking.
My ankle was given a brace. I was given a pair of bright pink scrubs and flip flops from Millie who waved off my saying I would pay her back as soon as I got back home and got money.
The doctor too waved off my offers to reimburse him.
"If we can't heal someone who really needs it every once in a while, what's the point of getting into medicine? It's not about the money, dearie."
From there, I was dragged to a diner by mother hen Lily who stuffed me with the very limited amount of vegan food on the menu before the sheriff came in his beaten down old cruiser and brought me to the train station, paying my way with a wave of his hand, well wishes, and promises to investigate my case.
I sat back on the train with a clean body, a full stomach, treated wounds and I had never been more thankful for humans before in my life.
Despite what I was programmed to believe growing up about the frailty of people, about their weakness, their selfishness.
Despite the horrible violence accosting me on the evening news, I realized something I had always missed before.
There was an innate goodness to people. There was a need to rally together, to do the right thing, to help when they could.
After so much selfishness and cruelty in The Green, having basic kindness made me need to press the heels of my hands into my eyes to keep myself from losing it on public transportation.
I fell asleep twice on the ride, both times the nightmares coming back stronger than ever before, like my acknowledging them for what they were somehow made them more vivid, more haunting.
I woke up each time on a scream, eyes all around me watching me like the homeless man screaming on a street corner, like I was unhinged and possibly dangerous.
When I finally pulled into the station six blocks from my old apartment, I was a mess of nerves. I wasn't naive enough to think our things would still be there. One missed rent payment and they were probably boxed up and shipped out so new people could move right in.
"Well well well," Jo, the slimy as hell creep of a super said after dragging his disgusting ass out of his recliner to answer my knock. "Look who it is. I was wondering what happened to you girls. Where's blondie?" he asked, looking past me as he sucked on his toothpick.
"Not here."
"Shame. What can I do for you?"
"Where's our shit?"
"Right to it then," he said, exhaling as he went back into his apartment, leaving the door open for me to follow.
I did, but only a foot, keeping one of my feet firmly planted outside of the door.
"Miss the old days when I could just keep the shit and market the apartment as furnished.
Not that anyone would want to move in with all that hippie shit all over," he said as he shuffled through a pile of papers on his dining table.
"Ah, here. I didn't have anyone to call for blondie.
But you had your work listed. Your work gave me your emergency contact and... "
Fucking Corbin.
Of course.
Because that was my life.
"Did he actually come and pick it up?"
"Sure did in that fancy car of his. Asked a lot of questions about when I'd seen you last and whatnot. Told him to take your shit and fuck off with his questions."
"First kind thing you've probably ever done in your life," I said with an eye roll. I looked around for a second, trying to steel my nerve to visit the asshole ex. "Hey," I said, my eyes landing on a collection of Jade's figurines she made. "You stole those, you dick."
"Prove it," Jo challenged.
"Tell you what," I said, charging toward them and grabbing one. "I'm taking this one. You can keep the rest if you give me twenty for them. Jade sold them for thirty a piece and you have eight here. It's fair." And I needed bus money to get to Corbin's.
"Why the fuck would I give you..."
"Listen you slimy son of a bitch," I said, charging at him.
"I've had a hell of a couple of..." Days, but that wasn't right in the human realm.
"Months. I don't have time to deal with you haggling over this shit.
Give me twenty or I'll call the cops in and you go ahead and try to explain to them why you are in possession of things belonging to a missing person.
Because before I took off, I reported Jade missing.
Don't you think that would look a tad bit incriminating?
Sure, you didn't do anything to Jade. But you know cops...
sometimes they really just want to close cases and, while I'm no expert, you really seem like the kind of shit who would make your pretty young tenants disappear. "
"I liked fucking blondie better," he grumbled, moving over to the table beside his door, reaching in his wallet, and pulling out the twenty.
"Me too," I said, snatching it and turning back into the hallway.
So all that nice shit I said about people? Yeah, fuck that.
And 'fuck that' was a great mood to be in to go confront my ex.