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Chapter 12: Physical Assessment
publish date:
2026-11-03 03:01:38
Latest chapter
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The tenth morning arrived without ceremony.Gray light still moved across the floor in the same thin, colorless wash it had used for days. The rain had thinned overnight into a fine, continuous mist that softened the sound against the glass without silencing it. The air in the room held the faint residual scent of antiseptic and clean gauze. Alexei sat against the headboard in the position that had become fixed: wrists cuffed, heavy chain running through the bedpost, the limited radius of movement now as familiar as the low pulse of the healing thigh wound beneath its bandage.Luca entered carrying a shallow black box and a pair of shears. He set both on the nightstand with the same quiet precision he brought to every object that entered this room. The box made almost no sound. The shears rested beside it, blades closed, handles aligned. He unlocked the cuffs long enough to strip the loose pants and the last of the medical gauze from Alexei’s torso. The metal opened and closed with sm
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The document arrived on the ninth morning.Gray light still filtered through the rain-streaked glass, thinner than the day before, as if the storm itself were growing tired without any intention of ending. The air in the room carried the same low dampness it had held for days. Alexei sat against the headboard in the position that had become habitual wrists cuffed, heavy chain running from the central link through the bedpost, limiting every movement to a narrow radius. The fresh bandages from the doctor’s visit remained clean. The thigh pulsed with a dull, contained heat under its packing. He had not been given water since the previous evening. The dryness in his throat had become another constant, like the weight of the chain and the red LED in the corner.Luca carried the document in himself a thin folder of heavy paper, no letterhead, no seals beyond a single handwritten date at the top. The paper was thick enough that it made a soft, substantial sound when he set it on the nightst
MARRIED TO MY DEADLIEST ENEMY Chapter 12: Physical Assessment
The doctor arrived at 09:40.He was a thin man in his fifties, gray at the temples, carrying a black medical bag and a tablet. The bag looked older than the rest of him, the leather worn smooth at the corners from years of the same quiet work. He did not look at Luca when he entered the room. He looked only at the patient. His expression remained neutral, the practiced blankness of someone who had long ago decided that questions beyond the body were not part of the contract.Alexei sat on the edge of the bed, wrists still cuffed in front of him, the heavy chain looped through the bedpost so he could not stand fully upright. The position forced a slight forward curve to his spine. Fresh bandages covered the worst of the cuts on his chest and stomach. The thigh wound had been re-dressed the day before, the gauze already marked by a faint shadow of seepage. His skin was pale under the remaining bruises, the older scars from his father’s knives still visible in long, pale lines across his
MARRIED TO MY DEADLIEST ENEMY Chapter 11: The Shower
The eighth morning brought no change in the weather. Gray light filtered through the rain-streaked glass, thin and colorless, the kind of light that made every surface look colder than it was. The storm had settled into a steady, unrelenting rhythm overnight, neither strengthening nor breaking. Alexei had not slept so much as drifted in and out of a shallow, fevered haze. Time had lost its edges. He measured it only in the slow throb of the graze on his thigh and the constant, low-grade pull of the chain across his shoulders. The heavy links still held his arms wide. Every breath pulled the crusted cuts open again, a small, inevitable tearing that he had stopped reacting to. The wound on his thigh had gone from seeping to a steady, hot throb that made the whole leg feel too heavy, as if the infection had weighted the bone itself.The door opened at the usual time.Luca entered without speaking. The soft click of the lock and the quiet shift of air were the only announcements. He cross
MARRIED TO MY DEADLIEST ENEMY Chapter 10: Luca’s Ghosts
The report came in at 02:14.Dante Rossi stood in the doorway of the secondary study, rain still darkening the shoulders of his coat, the smell of wet asphalt and gun oil clinging to him. He didn’t sit. He never did when the news was this thin. Water dripped from the hem of his coat onto the dark hardwood in slow, irregular ticks, each one loud in the otherwise quiet room. The city beyond the rain-streaked windows was a smear of sodium lights and distant headlights, muted by the storm that had been grinding against the building for hours.Luca didn’t look up from the tablet. The feed from the corner camera above the bed showed Alexei still chained, arms stretched, chest rising in shallow, uneven pulls. Blood had dried in thin, cracked rivers down his stomach. The red LED blinked steadily. Still breathing. The image was grainy in the low light, but clear enough: the way the heavy chain held his wrists high and wide, the faint tremor in his fingers, the slow, deliberate effort of each i
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The seventh morning was worse.Alexei woke on his side, wrists raw and stretched, the heavy chain now looped through both cuffs and bolted to the bedpost so his arms were pinned wide. The cuts across his chest and stomach had crusted overnight but pulled open with every shallow breath. The graze on his thigh wept steadily, the bandage soaked through and stiff. His vision was still blurry at the edges from blood loss and pain. He could taste copper on his tongue and feel the rain hammering the window like it was trying to wash him away.He hadn’t spoken once since Luca left. The silence was ironclad. No food. No water. Just the slow drip of blood onto the marble and the low hum of the city far below.The door opened at 6:06 a.m.Luca stepped in wearing the same black slacks and white shirt, sleeves rolled high. The bruise on his temple had turned a deep, ugly black. His storm-grey eyes flicked over Alexei’s chained form, cataloging every new cut, every tremor, the way blood still leake
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