Page 43 of Save You

“Thanks, really, I mean it!” We smile and nod at one another. I think we’re even closer than we were before, not least because of all the tragedy we have both had to endure in our lives. Rosalie is just as much a new beginning to him as she is for me.

Chapter 17

Beth

Oliver bursts into the room, not even waiting for me to respond to his knock and walks toward me with determination and a no-nonsense attitude. An older woman who looks like she belongs in a secret coven for the wicked, follows behind with a smell up her nose. She offers no words of greeting or even a smile to put me at ease. In fact, she makes me feel like I’m five years old again and almost has me running for shelter only so I can avoid her sharp features and icy cold stare. She’s a far cry from the warmth and friendliness of Doctor Sawyer.

The late doctor’s name has me feeling sick with guilt and I can hear bubbles of acid churning around inside of my stomach. Leo’s thick arm is all that I can see of the only friend I have in this place, and even that disappears when Doctor Mean Bitch slams it shut, effectively closing it on the safety of the hallway outside.

At the sound of the door meeting its frame with an obnoxious bang, I instinctively pull the sheets of the bed up to my chin and hide behind them. Of course, I had forgotten that this woman isn’t the only terrifying person in the room, so when Oliver rips my cover away, I can’t help emitting an audible gasp that only causes him to look at me with a snarl of annoyance.

“Beth, this is Doctor White, she’s here to check you over,” he says before gesturing to the woman who is now getting things from out of her bag. “And I will be staying in for all consultations from now on!”

“Good afternoon, Miss Taylor,” Doctor White finally acknowledges me, “I need to check your stomach, as well as your stitches. I’m sure Mr Lawrence can wait by your head if that’s more comfortable?” You’d think she was directing her question toward me, but she is looking directly at Oliver when she speaks and only continues when he has given her a subtle nod of his head. “I’ll then check your usual stats and we can talk about contraception. You’re at your most fertile now, so you will need to be cautious.”

“No need to worry about that, Doctor White,” Oliver replies for the both of us rather stiffly, “we intend to wait until our wedding night. I want to be informed as soon as the bleeding has stopped. How long might that be by the way?”

“Hard to say for certain. It can take anything up to six weeks, Mr Lawrence, but usually, it’s only about a month.”

She smiles warmly in response to his charm, the one he puts on for strangers. She then bends down to inspect me. I can’t fault her for her gentle touch, but it still feels humiliating to be having this done in front of Oliver.

After a while of pushing and pulling me about, only pausing to change whatever instrument she’s using, she begins to press around my stomach. It still feels like it’s missing a vital organ. Once I confirm that everything is pain-free, she looks at Oliver to inform him that everything is as it should be and that I am lucky to be healing so nicely. I begin to scoff when she uses the word ‘lucky’ but manage to turn it into a cough at the last minute.

“Now, Mr Lawrence has told me to give you a contraceptive shot so we can do that now,” she tells me, then returns to her bag to prepare it.

Oliver smiles tightly while I think about whether this doctor is part of Mayfield or not, seeing as she’s a woman in a very prestigious position. The urge to ask her is on the tip of my tongue but then I think better of it and choose to remain silent, just as Oliver would want me to be.

“As long as we keep up with these shots, you should be safe. I’ve looked at your notes and your bloods have come back clear of any STDs, so that’s all well and good. Now, before I leave, how are you feeling in yourself, Miss Taylor?”

Her question renders me speechless for a moment or two, making me cast doubt over my earlier assessment of her coldness. Perhaps I’m casting my hatred of Oliver and Mayfield over everyone, whether it’s warranted or not.

“She’s fine, aren’t you, Beth?” Oliver speaks for me. I inwardly call him something unsavory while closing my eyes in frustration over the position I now find myself in for the foreseeable.

“I lost my baby; how do you think I’m feeling?”

The words escape me before I can even tell myself to keep them inside of my head. Oliver’s murderous glare tells me I will pay for such a slip-up, but at this point, I think I’ve begun to not care anymore. I feel like life isn’t really worth living, especially not this one.

“We can give you something to help, if that’s ok with you, Mr Lawrence?”

The fact that she keeps referring back to Oliver like I’m a fucking child, makes me want to scream.

“That won’t be necessary,” he answers for me, “she’ll have a few more days to feel sorry for herself, then she’ll need to pull herself together. She can always have another baby…a proper baby with her husband!”

I’m left frowning with confusion by her reaction because the moment he says his callous comment, her mouth drops open in horrified shock. Meanwhile, he is now eyeing me with an expression that warns me that what he has just said is an order. After all, Oliver Lawrence is a magician who can control people’s feelings, as well as their lives. I remain neutral, passive in all of this, for I already know there is nothing I can say or do to change anything, so why risk his wrath?

Doctor White seemingly shakes away her moment of disbelief and resumes her stoic expression before nodding his way. Once she has meticulously packed away her belongings into her prim and proper doctor’s bag, she waits to be led back outside where Leo escorts her to the front door. Oliver and I are then left alone; it’s the first time since I woke up to find him in my hospital bed a little over a week ago.

Oliver is stood in front of one of the large windows overlooking the grounds outside and is looking at me pensively. I remain wordless, waiting for him to say something, anything, other than the silence that feels like it’s choking me. The anticipation of him rescinding on our deal to punish me is almost worse than the actual physicality of it happening. I made that condition already knowing that he will go back on it, that he’s going to punish me one day. Perhaps that day is already here.

Eventually, when I’ve trained my eyes to remain focused on the dressing table straight ahead of me, I hear him moving over to the bed. With my eyes staying fixed upon that ugly piece of furniture, I feel his warm large hand cupping my chin before he pulls it forcefully toward his face. The same hand then slowly slides down to my neck while his mouth simultaneously curls up into a smile that makes me feel more terrified than comforted.

His smile quickly morphs into a snarl as he begins squeezing against the artery in my neck, but I remain defiantly expressionless as I stare back at him, refusing to crumble under his threatening eyes. I know that’s what he wants, my fear and my abject misery, to feel weak beneath his grip, but I am stubborn and angry and won’t allow him to see what he so dearly craves. His hold only tightens, so much so, I’m struggling to breathe, but still, I look back at him, keeping my mask of indifference in place. He squeezes tighter again, only this time, I’m unable to breathe at all.

We stare at one another in this battle of wills, and I know it’s only a matter of seconds before I pass out altogether. My head is already feeling dizzy, so I give in by letting one tear fall over his hand and down onto the sheet. It seems to be enough of a win for him to let go. As soon as he releases his fingers, my body coughs, and splutters as it tries to gasp for precious air. Oliver, meanwhile, begins to pace around, flexing his hands as he does so.

“Better?” I eventually splutter, grabbing at my neck which now feels hot to touch.

“Careful, Beth,” he warns, without even looking my way, “you don’t want to anger me even more than you already have!”

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