Page 23 of Scarred Sins
“Fine,’’ I sigh. “You can inspect my wound.’’
Quickly, he grabs the essentials, pulls his chair over, and sits in front of me. I slump onto the hospital bed and can’t help but hum. Given the terrible mattresses we have in our cells, hospital beds feel like heaven.
“I have to touch your arm.’’
“I’m aware,’’ I drawl out. “Go for it.’’
It’s… odd. I’m wary of him, yet there’s something oddly soothing, calming about him. He’s the first doctor, the first person to tell me what they were about to do to me. No one ever gives me that decency, and it feels weird.
Firstly, he cleans the wound with some gauze, then pauses for a few moments to inspect it thoroughly. He applies some disinfectant, and I bite my bottom lip to prevent a pathetic sound of pain from coming out. I’m not used to being treated like an actual human, and even Melissa’s hands were rough, more often than not.
But Benjamin’s? His hands are so soft.
His touch is so gentle that it momentarily makes me forget the wound on my shoulder.
“You need a couple of stitches,’’ he says. “Do you want me to numb the area first?”
I shake my head. “No need. I’m used to this; just get it over with.’’
Reluctantly, he complies.
It’s still very strange. If he’s a genius to the point of being a doctor at such a young age, why is he wasting his time in prison? There have to be better ways to spend his time and jobs that are better paid than this. Unless there’s someone he cares about on the inside that’s keeping him here.
I wince, pain shooting through my shoulder. He does it rather quickly, stitching up my torn flesh and then, to my surprise, softly stroking the skin around it, as if to soothe the ache. For some reason, his touch doesn’t disgust me. It feels almost natural to have his finger linger on my skin.
He looks at me, and something happens. I don’t know what it is, but something twitches in the pit of my stomach, and it’s the first time I’m ever feeling like this. I don’t know what it means, and I don’t have the time to figure it out.
His eyes are as gray as thick, prowling clouds in a thunderstorm. And thunderstorms have always been my solace; they always made me feel safe, as if no one could hurt me. His harsh stare reminds me of brutal storms that cut through the sky, bringing on the catastrophic, dark nights.
“I would like to keep you here overnight for observation.’’
I get snapped into reality, brows furrowing together. “Why?”
He sighs. “You’ll be sent to solitary confinement, and it’s not exactly the cleanest place. I don’t want you to catch an infection.’’
“Then go and talk to the officers outside.’’
He’s swift on his feet, opening the door and stepping outside for a moment. I’m left alone, and in the meantime, I quickly get off the bed and head toward the cabinet drawer. I know exactly where Melissa keeps all the good sweets, and one of these days, my sweet tooth will be the death of me.
“All right, you’re definitely sta–’’ he stops himself, both brows raised to his hairline. “What are you doing?”
From his perspective, this looks terrible.
I’m behind his desk, drawers opened on the cabinet behind me. Only a few of them are still closed, and I swallow thickly. My back is turned to him, and slowly, I grab the first thing that I feel under my fingertips in the drawer, then turn around.
I almost screamed.
The distance between the door and the desk is at least fifteen feet. Now, he’s standing right in front of me, his tall figure looking down at me. How the hell did he get behind me so quickly, so silently?
“Candy,’’ I responded, showing him the bag of M&M’s in my hand.
“Candy,’’ he repeats, his voice lowering. “You could’ve asked for some.’’
One of my eyebrows lifts, and I fold my arms in front of my chest. “You’re not supposed to give me any, so I helped myself.’’
“You mean, you stole it?”
“Yup.’’
