. . Chapter I . .
The rich girl shifted in her hospital bed, uncomfortable and more than slightly irritated. This bronchitis was driving her nuts. All the IV medication was making her bladder feel like an over-sized water balloon and every time she coughed, a little urine would trickle down her well-toned thighs and onto the bed sheets. I'm rich, she thought, I shouldn't have to endure bed-pans and I will NOT accept wet bed sheets. Daddy pays more money to this damned hospital than it's worth, so I'll get his money's worth, she thought defiantly. Sitting up in bed, she grimaced at the cooling wet spot beneath her dampened thighs.
She glared at the night nurse with steely gray eyes. They'd always been her best asset, but now they were just plain cruel. She waited until she knew that the nurse had gotten off her feet and snatched up the call button, pressing it repeatedly. Nurse FairHaven rushed in the room, her eyes filled with concern. "What is it, sweetie? Are you alright? Not having trouble breathing, are you??" she queried with a flushed face. Gwendolyn plastered a sickeningly sweet smile on her contemptuous face and said, "No, I'm not alright, you menial, middle-classed wench! I'm sick and tired of pissing myself every time I cough and with bronchitis, when am I NOT coughing?! My bed sheets are soaked!"
Nurse FairHaven smiled and nodded, assuring her that the interns would be by within five minutes to change her bed clothes. As she turned to leave, Gwendolyn threw her water cup at her, hitting her in the back. Stunned, Nurse FairHaven spun around and bit her tongue to curb her anger. "What is the matter, Ms. Attager? I told you that the orderlies will take care of you in moments." Gwen's eyes narrowed to slivers as she hissed through perfect teeth, "I don't want to be taken care of in moments! I want clean sheets, NOW! My father pays your salary and I can have them snubbed with the snap of my fingers! YOU put clean bed clothes on my bed immediately or I'll call my father!"
Gwendolyn's pretty (but not pretty enough to make prom queen without Daddy's help) face was contorted with the anger of a spoiled child. Her silky hair, mussed from being bed ridden for over a week, was still a sight to make you want to bury your face in it and inhale deeply. Nurse FairHaven winced and hid her desire to do that very thing as she glared over the girl in hot rage. "Alright, miss," Imogen replied, "Please get up and I'll take care of it."
The girl's anger was replaced with a face of smug satisfaction as she leapt out of the bed for the wench to carry out her demands. She smiled arrogantly as the nurse pulled off the fitted sheet, placing it in the soiled sheets hamper. Gwendolyn looked her over, thinking to herself, She can't be more than 22. I wonder how she stays in such good shape... She's very muscular. Quite attractive to the unbiased eye, really. Wait a minute... Why the hell do I care?? She's a nobody and I shouldn't feel any kindness toward her! Imogene smiled as pleasantly as she could as she fluffed the pillows, just to be sarcastic. Gwendolyn slid back into bed and picked up a magazine, ignoring Imogene completely.
Not even a 'thank you', eh? Well, we'll see, little girl.. We'll see. This night's shift is far from over and I'm SURE you'll have Me running in circles for you like some pathetic lackey. Just wait; I won't stand for it.... Just wait and see, Imogene thought. She smiled and stepped out of the room, closing the door as quietly as possible. Nurse FairHaven met up with the head orderly in the hallway on her way back to the nurse's station. "We've got a stinker in room 202, Jimmy", she whispered under her breath, "Leave her to Me, got it? Tell the others, now." Jimmy nodded and smiled, knowing Imogene well enough than to disagree with Her.