He grabs a kit with medical supplies and takes a piece of cotton in his hand. He's purposefully ignoring my question.
I know that I'm naked before him, but I don't feel even the slightest bit shy. I'm too consumed by wanting to know the truth that it's impossible for me to feel any other emotion.
"This may hurt," he says as he presses the wet cotton against my stomach, "but it will help with the pain until your body heals itself."
My fists tighten against the sheet beneath my body, "the physical pain is no match for the emotional pain that you've brought upon me."
I know I'm not supposed to admit it, but I felt like it was the right time to tell him that.
His hand stops just above another cut, and a muscle ticks in his jaw; it tells me that my words have struck a nerve. Still, he d
