Chapter 06
1347 Words
CARMEN POV
The clinic room was small, but it felt safe.
That was the first word that came to mind as I sat propped up on the narrow hospital bed that was oddly the same size as my bed in the manor. This bed, however, had an extra blanket, a luxury I lost three years ago. The extra-thin blanket was currently pushed to the side. I wasn’t used to this many options; it almost felt taboo.
The walls were a soft, faded cream, lined with shelves of neatly organized supplies. A small window let in the waning daylight, and somewhere down the hall I could hear the faint clatter of equipment and quiet voices.
It wasn’t cold and sterile like a hospital. It felt lived in, maintained with compassion and pride, both things you rarely seem to find at General hospitals nowadays.
Not that I’ve been in one for years, but when my parents were still alive and well, I always felt unwelcome in hospitals. I feel like many people do. Which is unfortunate, but it is the reality of today's society.
Frank and Ellen sat nearby, their chairs pulled close as if they didn’t want to leave me alone even for a moment. It was nice to be cared for. You realize you miss it when it's gone, but having glimpses of it again makes you emotional. But I fought to keep those things inside of me.
I didn't want to scare them away with my unloading of baggage, so I kept many things to myself for now, despite them asking me questions about my life before we met on that darkened road a week ago.
I had learned their names not long after waking up, but hearing them chit-chat in casual conversation now felt more natural. Less foreign. Like I had known them longer than just the short time I have been awake.
Frank leaned back slightly in his chair, arms crossed loosely over his chest.
“You know,” he said with a quiet chuckle, “they say that retirement is supposed to be peaceful, and here I am, picking up strays off the side of the road. Literally.”
Ellen rolled her eyes fondly and batted his arm playfully, her smile making it clear this was a familiar exchange.
"You say that like you didn’t spend thirty years chasing chaos with a big grin on your damn face," she replied, the affection obvious in her tone.
Frank met her gaze, smirked, and shot her a wink. "That was different. That was structured chaos," he teased, clearly baiting her for a reaction.
I found myself watching them, something soft stirring in my chest.
They spoke easily with each other. There was comfortably between them. They had the kind of connection that only came from years of shared life.
After a moment observing them, I cleared my throat. "So, you mentioned that you were in the military?" I asked quietly, my voice still a little rough.
Frank nodded. There was something that flashed in his eyes. I didn’t catch it, but I presumed it was a memory from his past career. Before I could think too much about it, he was back to his grinning self. I watched as his chest puffed with pride.
“Indeed. It is a great honour to serve our King, and I did it proudly as a ranked officer within the Royal Military for most of my life,” he said. “But that was a long time ago now.”
Ellen smiled faintly.
He won’t admit it, but he misses it. Men of structured chaos rarely take retirement well. It’s too quiet for them. That’s why we decided to sell our home and buy an RV.
Frank huffed.
“Whoa, wait just a minute. I don’t miss the freezing mornings and terrible food, or the loss of comrades that I was close to. I also don’t miss the time I lost with my family, but I do miss the cause. The sense of purpose every day.”
I shifted slightly on the bed, wincing as my ribs protested the movement.
Ellen noticed immediately.
“Careful, sweetheart,” she said gently. “You’ve got more broken than just that leg.”
I let out a small breath. “Yup, it definitely feels like it.”
For a moment, silence settled between us again. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, just—quiet.
Ellen leaned back in her chair, her gaze thoughtful.
“I worked as a nurse,” she said. “Small hometown clinic. Nothing fancy like this, but enough to keep people patched together.”
"You make it sound simple," Frank muttered, giving Ellen a sidelong smile.
Ellen smiled faintly. “It wasn’t always. But it mattered to the people within my community.”
I watched her carefully.
There was something steady about her. Grounded. Like she had seen a lot in her life, but hadn’t let it harden her.
Before I could say anything else, the door opened.
All three of us turned.
An older man stepped into the room, dressed in a white coat. His hair was gray, his posture slightly stooped, but his eyes were sharp and alert.
But there was also warmth and kindness in them.
He offered a small smile as he stepped inside.
“Well,” he said warmly, “I see our patient is finally awake and talking.”
Ellen stood slightly.
“Danny, this is Carmen.”
He nodded as he looked over what I presumed was my chart as Ellen spoke.
He lifted his gaze and shifted it to me.
“Hello, Carmen. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, conscious. I am Doctor Daniel Flint, but you can call me Doctor Dan, most do around here.”
I nodded faintly. He wasn’t at all like the doctor that Arthur had made house calls to my room every morning. He didn’t make my skin crawl with an unease I didn’t understand like the other doctor, either.
He stepped closer, pulling a stool over and sitting near the bed.
“I must admit, we almost lost you at one point,” he said. “I’ve been helping patch you back together, checking your vitals, and until today, nothing changed.”
His tone was light, but there was something careful beneath it.
“How are you feeling, Carmen?” he asked.
I hesitated.
There were too many answers to that question. How much paper does the guy have for the notes?
So I settled on the simplest one.
“Sore.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“To be honest, I’d be concerned if you weren’t.”
He reached gently for my wrist, checking my pulse. His touch was careful and non-threatening, but still, my body tensed slightly.
He seemed to notice. I’m pretty sure they all noticed.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Carmen,” he said quietly. There was something in his tone that somehow made it easier for me to breathe.
I gave a small nod.
He released my wrist and leaned back slightly.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions,” he continued. “Make sure we’re not missing anything important. Would that be okay, Carmen?”
I nodded again.
His expression grew more serious.
“Alright, I am just going to jump right into it, then. You let me know when you’ve had enough for the day. Okay?”
Again, I nod in understanding, but look to Ellen for reassurance. She offers me a supportive smile, and her eyes warm when they meet mine. I felt safe again just because of that small gesture from her.
“Good, so some of your injuries—” he began carefully, “suggest that there has been prolonged trauma without proper medical attention. Is this assumption correct?”
I swallowed with an audible gulp, but didn’t withdraw.
“T-that’s a-accurate.” I stuttered.
He held my gaze for a moment before asking the question.
“Do you want me to perform an examination for s****l assault?”
- Writer
