Page 19 of A Whisper of Cinders

Lenient.

Right

I swallow down the bile rising in my throat and drag myself forward. Blood oozes from the wounds where my skin got ripped off my back. My nightshirt clings to them and I can’t contain a whimper.

The infirmary isn’t too far from Dom’s practice area, but in my current state, I don’t know if I’ll make it. The hallway spins around me and I nearly triple over my own feet on multiple occasions. Every step feels like a mile, my back and shoulders are bent forward, trying to relieve some of the tension on my wounded skin.

After what feels like forever, the door to the infirmary comes into sight. Whenever an accident happens at night, they call Doctor Herbert and she arrives within less than five minutes.

I know the code that opens the doors, Doctor Herbert left it out on her desk one day. She did it deliberately, I’m certain. She is too smart to leave things like that out in the open for anyone to read. The fact that I still have to go through Dom’s…special treatment, means Doctor Herbert’s hands are tied and Dom can bend the rules to how he wants it one way or another.

With shaky fingers, I enter the code. The little screen turns green and the door clicks open. I stumble inside, not sure if I want to sit down or take something to ease the pain first. Since the edges of my vision start to go dark, the former might be a good idea to begin with.

I reach the examination room closest to me and lower the table until it’s my height. I should’ve learned by now, that sitting down is not a good idea, nothing really is when your back’s been shredded. I’m not even surprised when I have to hurry to the closest trashcan and vomit.

I retch until there's nothing left, the violent convulsions slowly coming to an end. I’m a trembling, sweaty mess. I wipe my mouth clean with the back of my hand and carefully sit down on the table, counting my breaths.

I got this. I’ve been through this before. I can do this.

I hold onto the table and carefully turn my neck to look across my shoulder, lowering my nightgown until it’s around my waist, biting through the fabric that sticks into the wounds, and see the damage that has been done. It could be a sickly coincidence, but there stands a mirror right in my line of sight.

Heatwaves flush through me. I think I’m going to be sick. Again.

Shit.

This looks bad. And that is an understatement.

I have gone through the motions a hundred times at least, but this? He’s never gone this far. Calling Doctor Herbert would be the wisest idea, but I have to try it on my own first.

It takes me twenty minutes to reach the locked cabin with painkillers and another hour to gather all the supplies I need. Most of the wounds have stopped bleeding, my nightshirt dark red instead of white, but I know the deep cuts are still open and raw. Would I be able to stitch my own skin? The thought alone makes me nauseous all over again.

But I can’t delay this any longer. If I want to prevent infection from seeping into my already poor system, I have to clean the wounds and cover them up. I run through the steps in my head, place a leather strap between my teeth and bite down hard. I breathe in and —

“Oh Mai…”

My heart stops beating. How did she even get in? The door must have remained open.

I take the strap out of my mouth and turn my head to the side. She has seen me naked many times before, she knows about the scars on my back, who puts them there. I have begged her a thousand times that I don’t want her to interfere, because I know she would take my place in a heartbeat and that would pain me even more.

It’s why I normally treat these wounds myself, so as not to worry her. She knows when I’m in pain, but never knows how deep it runs. But now…

“I’m fine, Ami.”

I don’t turn around. I can’t hide the agony I’m in and she would be off to god knows who to demand justice and retribution.

Shuffling footsteps move closer. “Let me help you.”

The raw edge in her voice doesn’t escape me. I can tell her to leave, beg her even, but I am tired. I’m in pain and my best friend is offering to help me, so why would I deny her. “Okay.”

I toss the bloodied nightgown to the side and lay down on my stomach on the examination table. My back is curved and I can’t really tell if it helps with the pain. As if she reads my mind, Ami’s fingers gently push under my ribcage as she shovels a pillow underneath my stomach.

“Thank you.”

Ami turns on the bright light and moves it so it’s positioned above my back. She mutters something I can’t quite hear, I don’t have the energy to ask what’s wrong. “Did you take something for the pain?”

I nod, but the movement pulls at the skin of my back and I suck in a breath. “Yes,” I respond between clenched teeth.

“Something strong?”