Apprehended: Chapter Nine
"I don't want to do this." My voice was but a mere whisper. Unfortunately, Ethan-with his good hearing-heard my plea.
"This is non-negotiable, bellula. I can hear your breathing. It doesn't sound right. Now stop giving Hubert a hard time and lay down," replied Ethan.
I wanted to argue, to tell him that it was my body, my choice. But to be completely honest, breathing was beginning to hurt.
Martin cleared his throat and looked at Ethan. "May I?"
I frowned. "May you what?"
He continued to address Ethan. "Examine her?"
I snorted but ended up coughing. It sounded raspy and moist.
"Do it," demanded Ethan.
I thought back to what Tony said. That I wasn't an object. I wanted to voice that fact, but my current condition didn't allow it.
"Lay back, please, Ms. Annie." Dr. Martin had snapped on some gloves.
Nervously, I did as I was told. Unconsciously, I looked at Ethan for some sort of invisible support, as if merely looking at him would offer a form of comfort. I'm not sure why I did it. It seemed instinctual, like I wasn't in control of my own body. Especially considering the stress I was under.
Ethan was on it. He took my hand and engulfed it with his own, his warm fingers circling around me with heat. I squeezed and was momentarily lost in not only nervousness, but overwhelming anxiety.
Ethan and the doctor were going to see my scars. The scars of my past. Those were burdens that only I carried and witnessed. They were reminders of what I would never allow again. They were also reminders of what I endured.
I felt cool air tickle my skin as my gown was pulled apart by Dr. Martin and I couldn't bear to stare at Ethan. Sure, he saw me when he changed my clothing before. But I wasn't conscious to remember it. This, however, was up front and center. I nearly vomited with the capacity of it; of the weight that crushed me.
Dr. Martin looked at Ethan briefly and they shared a silent exchange. Ethan nodded his head as if acknowledging that he too noticed my scars and it was okay to continue with the examination. I felt my face grow hot under their scrutiny and my vision blurred. I tried to suck it back, to completely devoid myself of the overwhelming shame and embarrassment I felt over my body. Over my anguish and torment.
I turned my face away, no longer able to face the two men who were taking care of me. Even though I knew I was safe here-especially with Ethan by my side- I felt alone. I felt like this was not only Dina's doing, but my own. I allowed her to fool me into thinking that Ethan needed me. I should have listened to my instincts. I should never have left that fucking cabin.
This was an agony far worse than abuse. It was an exploitation of my suffering. I tried to hold back the tears that threatened to consume me but failed. Wetness coated my cheeks and I quickly brushed them away with trembling fingers. I knew Ethan not only saw that I was crying, but most likely could smell it.
I wasn't disappointed.
"Hubert how is she looking?" said Ethan.
I shivered when I realized that Dr. Martin was in the process of examining me during my emotional and mental breakdown. He was probing me with his fingers, pressing against my ribs. I winced and shot him a dirty look. That hurt.
He smiled apologetically and asked me to sit up a little so he could listen to my breathing. Ethan assisted. When he was satisfied that I was comfortable, he let Dr. Martin finish his examination and only when he was done did Ethan wrap the gown around me to shield me.
Ethan tucked me closer into his side and continued to hold my hand as he said, "What's the damage?"
Hubert took off his gloves and tossed them in the trash bin. He took a seat on a rolling stool and sighed heavily. "Her lungs don't appear to be collapsed. Just bruised."
"Is that serious?" asked Ethan.
"It's a pulmonary contusion. With rest, she should begin healing within one to two days. Complete healing takes place in three to fourteen days."
"How did she get it?" Ethan continued. His voice sounded deeper, making the mattress rumble with the severity of it.
Dr. Martin looked at me. "Did you fall?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I slipped."
Ethan growled and lowered himself so that his golden eyes found mine: an unwavering, gleaming sunrise amidst a white, sterile room. The gloriousness of his stare was powerful. I wondered what it would be like to stare at his eyes for longer than one minute. Uncomfortable?
More like losing myself. Losing my capacity for cognitive awareness. I thought of our oral escapade together and how easily I lost myself to Ethan. To his eyes, mouth and hands. I felt my face grow hot at the steamy memory.
Ethan made a face, an all-knowing one. Followed by a cocked brow. Did he know what I was thinking about?
"Did he hurt you, bellula?"
I blinked rapidly and forced myself to pay attention. "What?"
"Did he hurt you? Don't lie either. I'll smell it."
I had no idea what he was talking about, let alone who he was referring to. "Who?"
He made a face in what I assumed was agitation. "Tony," he gritted out.
