Wounds and Emotions

(Zorya)

I couldn't stop shaking when Jazian dropped me back in the clinic. Tatiana wearily eyed me and stood up from her chair. 

“What happened?” 

I sagged on the bench, holding my face. Tears of humiliation flowed out of my eyes. 

“You are not going to survive here if you cry after every summon. Harden your heart and keep your strength; you will need it,” she said, her voice lacking any animosity. 

“Go, meet Ashlia in the recovery room. She will tend to you. She is the one who did it before too.” She placed her hand on my shoulder and pressed. 

I didn't need tending now, but I wanted to escape this suffocating situation. I wished to breathe. 

Entering through the backdoor Tatiana had pointed towards, I arrived in the recovery room. 

Everything was pristine white and clinically clean. From the hospital bed to the walls and curtains. Devoid of colour and yet hauntingly serene. 

“Hey!” I turned my head at the voice and found a female around my age, placing white roses in a crystal vase on the table. Like Tatiana and Rami, she wore green clothes and a white coat. 

“I am Ashlia,” she said, warmly smiling. 

I remained by the door, not moving. 

“How are you feeling now?” She gently asked, seeing how rigidly I stood there. 

Tatiana had said she was the one who treated me for the past few days when I was in that torturous state. 

“Confused, used, overwhelmed,” I spoke the truth, biting down on my lower lip. 

I had imagined her to shush me into silence like others, but she continued to smile. 

“Who wouldn't after the ordeal you have been through?” she pragmatically spoke, maintaining that peaceful smile. 

“Remember, no one can take away who you are. Here.” She pointed towards her heart. Somehow, an ease settled into my heart for that moment. 

“Yes!” I quietly whispered, and she continued to smile. Moving away from the vase, she calmly observed the arranged flowers. 

“Come, let's eat something. Rami is waiting for me.” She moved with ease and grace. Eating was the last thing on my mind. All I wanted was to survive this place. How she was so relaxed and at peace was difficult for me to comprehend. 

Before we could exit, the door banged open. I jumped away in fright. Four sentries entered, carrying him, the man who had saved me from being gang raped. 

They dumped him on the bed face down. Tatiana followed them, tight-lipped and grim. 

“Tend to him. If anything happens to him, Vega Canara will have your heads,” one of the sentries sinisterly warned before exiting the room with others. 

The blood droplets marred the white floor, like the darkness taking over the day. I stood frozen, watching the blood and then his severely bruised back. 

How many lashes did she give him? What should have been a few stitches from his fight turned into a nightmare. 

Tatiana was already putting on her gloves and surgical mask. 

“Get me saline gauze and Xeroform. Zorya, you will help me with cleaning and dressing the wound. Ashlia, get him on the morphine drip 2-5 mg and then IV fluids.” 

Ashlia moved quickly. I was still rooted to my spot, watching his closed eyes and pained face. My heart beat loudly against my chest, almost about to spring out. 

His massive body dwarfed the small bed underneath him. 

Tatiana turned on the lights above. Rami and Ashlia rushed inside carrying gauze, drips, and other medical supplies in metal trays. 

“Zorya, I need you. Get yourself together,” Tatiana's sharp voice pulled me out of my stupor, and I moved. I yanked on gloves. 

Rami handed me a saline gauze to disinfect his wounds. Ashlia hooked him on morphine and checked his vitals. 

“His pulse is high,” she grimly said. 

Tatiana had already inspected his wounds and began cleaning. The blood had clogged, raised abrasions, and split skin hurt my heart. 

My hands shook; they never shook. I had cleaned wounds countless times, stitched them up for my villagers. But now they were gone, and here I was. 

I owed him; I had to save him. Some of the wounds had closed. Taking a deep breath, I forgot everything: my past, the last few days and today. 

Only his battered body and I remained. With concentration and diligence, I disinfected his wounds. We then spread the antibacterial ointment on his whole back and covered it with Xeroform gauze. 

“Let him rest,” Tatiana instructed. “I will check on him in a few hours again. Hook him on IV fluids. Ashlia, stay with him.” She turned towards me. “You will be on night duty.” 

I nodded at her. Gathering the used gauze and bandages, I exited the room and discarded them under Rami’s supervision. 

“You did well. Once you focused, your hands were steady, and you didn't flinch.”  Rami handed me a glass of water. 

I remembered simply shutting off my emotions to focus, and I was able to do it. 

“I tried.” I took a small sip, letting my parched throat be relieved.

“Eat up and rest; night duties are brutal, and you are on in a couple of hours.” 

He showed me to the resting room. A table laden with food and drinks and two beds in the corner. 

Even though I had no appetite, I grabbed a plate and loaded it with some fruits. Sitting at the end, I began munching on them, lost deep in thought. 

Who was he? 

He didn't appear like a normal human. Was he a shifter?

How long had he been a slave? 

The same questions crossed my mind regarding Ashlia, Rami, and Tatiana. What were their stories? How did they end up here? 

Exhaustion and sleep took me, with these questions still brimming in my head. 

Ashlia’s gentle voice woke me up. “Hey, it's time.” 

I blinked at her and got up. Right, night duty. “Keep an eye on his vitals. He is stable for now. His wounds will need another dressing.” 

“Alright.” I left Ashlia there and went to the recovery room. Gently opening the door, I entered the room. The night light was on, filling the room with its warm and soft ambience.  

My eyes drifted towards him, and he appeared to be peacefully sleeping. His dark strands decorated his forehead. 

Quietly, I sat on the chair beside his bed, observing his handsome face in reverence. 

He appeared young, maybe in his late twenties. His face carried a serenity and stillness that drew one in. His skin had that bronzed look to it, making me wonder if he had spent countless hours training under the sun. His sleek lips were lightly parted as he slowly breathed. 

There was no sun in this sick fucking place, only darkness and morbidity, or was he new like me? 

A strand had fallen right over his tapered nose, and I felt the extreme urge to pull it away. 

Carefully and with my heart hammering inside my chest, I reached and picked it up. Soft like silk, it felt between the tips of my fingers. I was about to place it with his other hair when his eyes shot open. Like molten emeralds, they sparkled and stared.

A small squeak left my lips at the suddenness of his actions. I dropped his strand and tried to pull myself back, but his strong hand reached and wrapped around my wrist like a shackle, halting me, right there.