The Gender Game 5 by Bella Forrest (uplifting novels .txt) 📕

Desmond is not here, and you are safe. Viggo is here, but I’m not sure where exactly—he comes and goes as he pleases. No one is a prisoner, but as your doctor, I will tie you to the bed if you overexert yourself, so I reserve the right to amend that answer whenever I please.”

I put the water cup down. “No Desmond… Then how did you… come to be here?”

“Viggo, Amber, and Owen went to our—the Liberators’—home base,” she explained. “They had the others… watch your video.”

“Oh.” I had forgotten about the video. I couldn’t decide how I felt about them showing it to the Liberators, until I remembered that was exactly why I had made it. Still, the fact everyone had borne witness to me getting the stuffing beaten out of me by Tabitha? Talk about embarrassing. I put it aside and focused on the more important issue. Biting my lip, I looked up at her. “And my brother?”

She frowned and shook her head. “Sorry—I’m just your doctor. Viggo would have a better idea of… Hey, you sit back down right now!”

I ignored her, trying to get my limbs to obey me. Even though I was wide awake and mostly clearheaded, my arms and legs were stiff, so much so that moving had become quite troublesome. I grated my teeth together as I slid my legs out from under the covers and over the side of the mattress.

Then Dr. Tierney was there in front of me, her hands on her hips. At that moment, I despised the ease with which she moved, almost as much as it irritated me that she was in my way. I stared up at her, but she stood firm.

“Lie back down, Violet,” she ordered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Please,” I said. “I have to know about my brother.”

“Violet, I cut open your skull two days ago. You were bleeding internally, and I had to drill not one, but two holes in your head. Not to mention your fractured skull, which is only a small injury and will heal itself… But only if you take care of it. The good news is that you’re awake, and you seem lucid. But I am not letting you out of this bed until I can at least check you out.”

I frowned. “If I let you check me out, will you please let me go find Viggo?”

“Wouldn’t it be better if I went and got him?” she asked, the hard edges of her face softening slightly.

“No!” I snapped suddenly, with vehemence that surprised me—a surge of fear hitting me hard. I looked up, noted the clinical look on Dr. Tierney’s face, and immediately forced my fear aside. “No,” I repeated, modulating my voice to be softer and more reasonable, but with no room for argument.

Dr. Tierney sighed and squatted down until we were at eye level. “Sometimes, some patients who receive this kind of surgery are prone to emotional reactions that are illogical, or not rooted in anything rational. It’s perfectly normal, but before I agree to let you do anything, I need to know: why are you being so stubborn about this?”

I hesitated, trying to determine why I had been so upset by the idea of staying in bed. It was difficult to put it into words.

I took a deep breath and then exhaled. “I don’t know how long I’ve been in this bed, but I can tell it’s been a while. I need to get out and move… even if it’s just a little bit. Please? Please just… let me? For a few minutes?” Also, I don’t want Viggo to see me in this stupid bed again, I thought, but didn’t feel the need to add that part out loud. I knew it was a point of vanity, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to show him I was well, so he could stop worrying and feel better.

Dr. Tierney’s gaze was hard and searching, but I met it straight on, letting my resolve give me strength. Finally, she sighed and nodded. “After I check you out,” she said, her voice full of warning.

I smiled and nodded, folding my hands obediently in my lap.

“What’s your name?” she asked, standing up.

“Violet Bates,” I replied without hesitation.

“When were you born?”

“September 7th, two hundred and eighty-one years after The Fall.”

“How old is your brother?”

“Sixteen, but he’ll turn seventeen at the end of the month.” I felt a pang—the end of the month might have already passed, for all I knew. It had only been fifteen days off when I had gone to the palace for my showdown with Tabitha. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with worry for him. I pushed it aside for the moment, knowing I needed to prove I was all right before I could do anything.

“What day is it today?”

I screwed up my face, and gave a shrug. “I have no idea—how many days have I been unconscious?”

Dr. Tierney smiled softly as she scribbled things down on her notebook. “From what I understand? It’s been four and a half days since your fight, two and half since the surgery.”

I counted it off in my head. “August 20th? 21st?”

Her smile grew as she set the notebook down. “It’s the twentieth,” she supplied as she moved closer. I followed her orders as she checked my reflexes, pupillary responses, and the functionality of the patch in my eardrum. I asked her questions as she went, quizzing her on the injuries, how long it would take for them to heal, what she’d done to my skull… I couldn’t quite bring myself to ask why my hair was gone, though. I didn’t want to tell her how embarrassed I was.

Most of the checkup was painless, but I did hiss when she asked me to raise my arm over my head, and I quickly lowered my arm and placed my hand on my ribcage. “Well, they’re healing up as fast as we can expect,” she said. “You should be fine to walk. Just