Page 9 of Damaged
Andy removes the manacle from over my head as Christina stands, backing away from us. I lower my arms down in front of me, covering my naked chest. They are still bound by the tape hesecured them with. Opening and closing my hands and wiggling my fingers, I try to get the circulation back into them.
They start to tingle, feeling like little needles piercing my skin all over them.
Slowly, I turn away from the wall, leaning my shoulder against it. The piece of shit pulls his knife from his back pocket again, cutting the bandage loose from my wrists.
He's glaring at me from under his lashes, as I do the same. Dr. Graveheart stands ramrod straight in the doorway with his arms clasped behind his back, waiting patiently. Watching everything as if he were my guardian angel, which I know he definitely isn’t. Even if he saved me from this shithead, he could still do worse.
Just before Andy pulls the last vestiges of the bandage from my skin, Andrew whispers, “He won’t be around all the time. Those screams belong to me.” He slides the blade back into his back pocket again. My eyes never leave his, but I store that for later.
“Good fucking luck…Andy," I snarl his name out.
He steps into me, wrapping his hand around my neck, but I don't move except to lift my chin. While I may have screamed from the pain he delivered by the leather strap I see on the floor, it doesn't mean I didn't enjoy every bit of it. He needs to understand that I am not afraid of him. But he, however, should be very fucking afraid of me.
“Andrew!" the doctor barks out, stopping him from tightening his hold immediately. His eyes dart to where the doctor is still standing, and a moment of hesitation and…could that be fear I see cross over his face?
A small smirk lifts the corner of my lips at the revelation. His bitch ass is scared of Dr. Graveheart.
“Well…come on. Nothing but air and opportunity. Oh wait. That's right. You're nothing but a little bitch!" I snark out,making him stiffen. I can see it in his face; if the doctor weren't here, he would definitely love nothing more than to choke me out.
“Katarina…" the doctor scolds, using my full name, sounding like he's speaking to a child. He knows how much I loathe my full name. “Stop antagonizing Andrew. Come now. Let's get you cleaned up in Med Room 2."
Lifting my chin and straightening my spine, I walk away from Andy and move to where the doctor is waiting. Yes, I'm completely naked except for my socks and covered in blood, but I will not let that asshole get the better of me.
Dr. Graveheart steps to the side as I pass by him, walking toward Medical Room 2, which is directly across the hall from his office. Just as I exit the room, his gaze roams over my exposed body.
All the welts, cuts, and blood from the leather strap that asshole used on me cover the front and back of my torso along with the cuts on my face. Everything is on full display for everyone to see.
His head dips, watching me, as I continue walking past him through the doorway. He’s well over my five foot seven inches, having to look down as I cross in front of him.
My focus never wavers, and I keep my eyes focused on the hallway directly in front of me. He remains unreadable and stoic, as usual. He’s known on this ward as the genius in psychiatry and sociology, but it's because he’s just as psychotic as us inmates…he just knows how to hide it better.
But psycho recognizes psycho.
“Clean this up immediately, Andrew. I expect you to be in my office in an hour. Do you understand me?" He directs his attention back into the room we just vacated.
I can hear the moron's mumbling response but not his exact words as I continue my socked steps, however, knowing him, it'sjust him being a little bitch and kissing ass. "And Christina, be a dear and head back to the unit. Andrew can handle the clean up…on his own.”
Pushing the door open to the medical room that Dr. Graveheart indicated, I stroll into the bright, white room illuminated by several LED lights above, crossing my arms over my chest from the chill. This room, being closed up, seems to be colder than the others for some reason.
Looking around the room, the reclining table in the middle, taking up most of the space, is covered with that thin crackly paper that you would usually see in a regular doctor’s office.
There are several polished silver upper and lower cabinets that have locks on them, making sure none of the inmates who are left alone can get in. A few silver-topped glass jars line the back of the counter, holding cotton balls, Q-tips, Band-Aids, and wrapped gauze packages. Things that can be quickly accessed but are not worth stealing for any real purpose.
Staring along the back wall where there are a couple of posters of the anatomy, showing different parts of the inside of a body, I hear the door softly click closed behind me. My eyes never leave the poster I'm currently staring at.
Looking over its entirety due to my constant curiosity about how the body works and what it looks like on the inside, I keep my focus on the wall. It’s not my first time in this room, but every time I come in here, this poster right here always captures my attention.
“I’m sorry about Andrew, Katarina,” Dr. Graveheart says in his deep, soothing baritone voice as he moves around the room, pulling the tops off a couple of the glass jars and unlocking one of the cabinets. My eyes roll at the use of my full name once again, and still, I shrug my shoulders at his words. “Come sit. Let me have a look at you.”
Slowly, I turn and walk to the table, stepping up and sitting on it. My arms are still clasped over my chest, making my breasts bubble up over my forearms. His eyes immediately fall to them, making me smirk.
I know my rack is significant. It’s really what draws guys to me first, seeing as I’m a 34D. That and my hourglass-shaped, curvy body. I have a small waist and wide hips with an ass that looks manufactured.
It’s not.
My entire body is all naturale’.
I have a few stretch marks on my upper thighs and hips circling to my ass to prove it.
