Page 110 of Carnival
Aria falls on top of me, shielding me from the direct impact.
The impact is deafening, but my chest rumbles. In that moment, time stops, and all I can see are blinding lights, a ghostly silence following.
42
Rose
The first shower I took after the explosion was divine. A full-on body scrub, detailed hair wash, and even getting to shave after such a long time felt liberating. I was careful not to put my feet in hot water, because it would’ve hurt like a bitch.
The leather couch beneath me is cold, a shiver running down my spine as I take a seat. My damp hair is being held up with a big claw clip, a few strands of my curtain bangs falling over my eyes.
Freya’s on her knees in front of me, much to her displeasure — and she made sure to voice it out. Her skillful hands work on my wounds, and even the bitchy, stoic woman winces when the old bandages come undone.
“Jesus,’’ she whistles. “Have your feet gone to war?”
“More or less,’’ I snort. “Will this be painful?”
“Oh, yeah,’’ she says, with a little too much enthusiasm for my liking. “But it needs to be done. If you chicken out, who knows the damage you’ll suffer long-term.’’
I nod. “Alright, do whatever you need to do.’’
She opens the small, metal briefcase before putting her glasses on. Her eyepatch is in a pink color that I’m struggling not to ask questions about. Apparently, Freya’s wife has been nagging her to start wearing more colors, and that includes her eyepatch.
Freya puts on a pair of blue latex gloves, snapping them into place. The first, and the most painful thing, is to clean the wounds. She’s not being gentle, either. She puts a lot of disinfectant on the cotton swab, rubbing it all over my wounds.
A low hiss comes from me, eyes squeezing shut. The intensity makes me shudder, the stinging sensation lingering even after she removes the cotton from my feet. Once she cleans both, and a lot of bloody and dirty swabs later, she leans back, just inspecting them.
“Your nail is chipped, but it should grow normally. If you feel any pain or discomfort in that specific spot within the next week, I’ll need to remove it.’’
My eyes widen, almost dropping out of their sockets. “Remove it?! My nail?”
“No, your finger,’’ she says, voice dry. “Yes, the fucking nail.’’
A groan comes from me, and I slump on the couch, grabbing one of Noelle’s decorative pillows, putting it on my lap, and resting my hands on it. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’’
“Let’s hope it does,’’ the sadistic bitch mumbles, then puts my feet down. She takes off the gloves, replacing them withnew ones. If I’ve learned one thing about her, it’s that she’s immaculate when it comes to cleanliness and hygiene. “Now, no stitches needed. But you’ll need to be on bedrest for a while, until the bottom of your feet heal enough not to start bleeding again.’’
I straighten up. “How long?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, two weeks tops.’’
Relief floods over me. “Thank God. My exams will start soon.’’
She blinks. “That’s what you’re worried about? Exams?”
I hum in response, glancing down at my feet. The sight makes me grimace. They’re so ugly. Red, bruised, with opened wounds and burst blisters, and in some spots, skin started peeling off, too.
Freya starts applying some cream on them, coating them entirely, before wrapping them in bandages. It’s done better than the doctor at Vivian’s manor, with Freya making sure not a single inch of my flesh is showing, and it’s coated well in the cream.
“There,’’ she says, taking her gloves and glasses off. She packs up everything back into the metal briefcase, snapping it shut. “I’ll come by tomorrow to change them.’’
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll do it myself.’’
“It’s not like I’m doing it out of the goodness of my heart. Hudson’s paying me extra for home service.’’
“Of course he does,’’ I mumble.
Freya leaves without so much as a word of goodbye. Her heels click on the marble floors until she’s out of sight. The frontdoor opens, then closes behind her, and I close my eyes for a moment, making myself comfortable on the couch.
