Can You Keep It Saintly?

7 “Pixie”

Year 2017

Since arriving at Pine Ridge a week ago, Atlas had been working as a nurse for emergency cases at the kindly small hospital in the small town, where Maurice had assisted her. Additionally, Ingrid had offered her a room in their family's apartment, which they simply named Jonah's. Ingrid did not want a down p*****t from Atlas at that point in time, since Atlas had basically nothing, allowing her to just pay the rent when she received her first paycheck.

Maurice and Ingrid had noticed that Atlas was still struggling with trust and was hesitant to open up to others due to some previous experiences she had gone through that she had not told Maurice and Ingrid yet. As caring people who were older than her, they viewed Atlas as their daughter. That was why they wanted to support her and guide her towards healing and growth. They also recognized that Atlas had a fear of physical contact, and wanted to help her overcome it by showing her that not all people or touches are harmful. They were committed to standing by her side and providing the support and comfort she needed to learn to trust again and feel safe in her newfound community.

“Firefighters beat up nurses in here?”

Atlas stared at the staggering tall man with deep-seated honey brown eyes, thick brows, with wavy sandy blondish brown hair with short on the sides and longer on the top. His question was triggering her, since to Atlas the jerky guy was poking fun at her bruises which were on her arms and on her eye, yet she tried to ignore the way he looked so cocky and smug in front of her. His cocky and smug demeanor only added to her sense of being belittled and disrespected. Despite her annoyance, there was an underlying fear towards the tall man’s confident and reckless behavior, a fear that Atlas could not quite shake off. After all, the towering man just ran into the burning building and jumped out from the fifth floor as if it was nothing, as if it was a hobby that he had been doing.

Atlas, however, responded differently as she met Tatum’s gaze with a quiet but firm determination. “No, firefighters do not beat up nurses here and it does not concern you how I look right now.” Her tone was steady, and her response held a subtle hint of resilience, as if she had stood her ground against adversity many times before. “Moreover, ordinary people like yourself should not run to burning buildings.” She muttered under her breath.

At Atlas’ response, Tatum chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his voice. When she muttered about ordinary people like himself not running into burning buildings, he tilted his head slightly, a flicker of intrigue in his eyes since the woman knew nothing of him. “Maybe not all ordinary people do,” he conceded, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “But some people have tendencies to rush into the flames without second thoughts.” His gaze held a hint of self-awareness, acknowledging that he might fall into that category at times.

“How brave.” Her tone was cold and monotonous while her baby blue eyes looked up at him.

“I know I am. What about you? What are you? A punching bag?” Tatum asked mockingly, unbeknownst to him that she was a victim of abuse. Tatum’s question was not only mocking, but also unknowingly and absolutely insensitive given that Atlas was in fact a victim of abuse.

His lack of awareness and insensitivity only served to further provoke and upset her but she was trying not to be mean and unprofessional. She did not respond, and she did not want to respond, but Tatum’s words had deeply hurt and offended her. It was clear that he had no idea the pain she had been through and the abuse she had experienced.

She exhaled heavily as she felt absolutely so offended with what he had told her even if they barely know each other as she responded with a flicker of sarcasm in her voice. “Oh, you caught me.” She quipped, a dry smile playing on her lips. “I have been secretly signing up to be a human punching bag for the local MMA club,” She added flippantly, her tongue firmly planted in her cheek. The sarcasm was laced with a hint of frustration at Tatum’s insensitivity, but she managed to maintain her composure, though it was clear there was more than met the eye when it came to her recent injuries.

Tatum raised an eyebrow at her response, a hint of amusement sparking in his eyes that she was playing fire with fire. “Oh, so you are a part-time professional punching bag,” he quipped, his voice laced with wry humor, wanting to tick her since he found her words absolutely so disrespectful towards him. “Well, if anyone asks, I will make sure to recommend you for the open position at the MMA club,” he mocked with a teasing grin, the sarcasm in his tone evident. He did not know the full story behind her injuries, and he did not care at all, but he could not resist a little banter in the moment.

Atlas’ words likely frustrated Tatum because they challenged the perception he had of himself, as someone who was typically seen as important and held in high regard. Her casual and dismissive remark, regarding his earlier comment, may have clashed with Tatum’s self-image and the way he perceived himself in relation to others. His huge ego who was ten times taller than the Statue of Liberty may have been bruised, and he might have felt insulted by the idea that his importance and regard were not being recognized or acknowledged. This dissonance between self-perception and external validation can be quite unsettling and frustrating for individuals with narcissistic traits.

She calmly responded in her cold monotone voice, “Your words are such a baseless insinuation that casts absolutely unnecessary doubt on the integrity of the firefighters at the scene at the moment.”

Atlas, despite being an oncology nurse she still had experience of emergency care and right now she was responsible for caring for Tatum, who had sustained minor injuries while rescuing the boy and the dog from the burning building. She knew that she needed to attend to his little wounds, then after she checked his vital signs, and assessed his overall condition to ensure he was receiving appropriate medical attention. She was even cleaning and bandaging any cuts or scrapes on his skin, then she was checking for signs of burns, and monitoring his heart rate, breathing, and blood pressure. Atlas provided Tatum with pain medication if necessary while his eyes were glued on her face and how beautiful her baby blue eyes despite having her hair in a pixie cut.

Tatum found himself staring at Atlas, the nurse assigned to attend to his injuries. He was supposed to be annoyed and irritated by her presence, expecting that she would be too timid and nervous to treat him properly. But instead, he was surprised to see her focused and professional demeanor, her hands moving skillfully as she cleaned his wounds and checked his vital signs. She was taking her job seriously even after he mocked her, and Tatum could not help but appreciate her dedication and care despite how arrogant, cocky and rude he was towards her and her bruises. The sight of her pixie-cut hair and sparkling blue eyes only added to her charm, as he had always thought that women with short hair looked ugly.

Tatum considered ladies with pixie cut hair to be unromantic and ugly, despite his absolute disinterest in romantic relationships, love, and all things that were related to romance. This opinion was probably shaped by his own tastes influenced by the women that had been surrounding him since he was younger and growing up into an adult, as well as cultural conventions that link femininity to long, flowing hair of any color and shade. His conception of woman with beauty and femininity was limited and out of date to most people, but he did not care since it was his personal preference. Seeing a woman with a pixie cut bothered him since he thought that ladies were meant to have long, flowing hair.

Tatum’s slowly perspective began to shift as he observed Atlas even more, not looking away but keeping his eyes on her, the woman with bruises. Despite the injuries on her arms, the confidence and charisma she exuded gave her an air of strength and resilience, something that Tatum found fascinating when women were mentally, physically and emotionally strong. The sparkle in her blue eyes caught his attention, and as Tatum continued to observe her, he found himself reevaluating his preconceived notions about women with pixie cut hair being unattractive.

Slowly but surely, Tatum’s initial bias faded away, and he started to appreciate the beauty that could be found in a woman who sported such a hairstyle. Atlas’ presence challenged his limited views and expanded his understanding of feminine charm. But Tatum was too stubborn and too egoistic to admit that to himself.

After all, he was Tatum freaking Van Saint. He viewed women as mere objects for his personal satisfaction. He saw them as commodities to be acquired and disposed of at his leisure whenever he would want to. His rude streak of arrogance and entitlement drove him to believe that he could have any woman he wanted, simply because of his wealth and status, and the power he had over most people.

To him, women were nothing more than a means to an end, his pawns to be used for his own gratification. He saw himself as untouchable and above the ordinary limitations and emotional connections that other people experienced in their relationships. It was this deep-rooted sense of superiority and selfishness that led Tatum to treat women in such a dehumanizing manner. To him, no one and no woman would catch his attention because he does not want to.

Tatum’s inflated ego and sense of importance made him believe that no one could capture his interest, let alone a woman. His stubbornness and arrogance convinced him that he was above being drawn to anyone, as he deemed himself too important and superior to be swayed by such trivialities. He refused to acknowledge the possibility that there might be a woman who could capture his attention or inspire a deeper connection.

As far as Tatum was concerned, he was the center of his own universe, and the idea of someone intruding into that space was foreign and unwelcome to him.

When Atlas meticulously finished aiding Tatum, she muttered, “All done. If any infections happen after a few days with your minor injuries, then please have it checked to the hospital right away.”

“If it would get infections then that means you did not do your job well at the moment, right?” Tatum tried to tick her off while he smirked and wanted to annoy the woman for some reason.

“Do not worry,” Atlas barked, not looking at him and was busy packing the medicine kit. “I do not think infections would even want to infect you knowing how crude you are so they will practically feel scared then.”

Tatum immediately felt a mix of surprise and intense irritation when the woman disrespected and mocked him. Most women would respect him, kneel down in front of him, even the ones who did not know him, would want to respect him and flirt with him despite how rude the words were coming out from his lips. Every single woman he met respected him, looked up to him, wanted to have s*x with him, and just flirted with him because of the fact that he was actually very handsome and hot.

This was actually the first time a woman had done so, and it hit his ego hard. He was used to being treated with reverent respect, and the woman’s words right now challenged his sense of self-importance. Tatum could not help but let out a sarcastic chuckle, trying to mask his annoyance. “Wow. Your wit is as sharp as a butter knife,” he replied sarcastically, a hint of irritation in his voice especially with the way he spoke.

In the back of his head, she was a mere bug that he wanted to step on so he could teach her a lesson.

He added, “But then again, I suppose even dull tools have their use.”

Atlas looked Tatum in the eye impassively and responded firmly, trying to find her ground and to not let others belittle her, “Thanks for the compliment.” She looked unfazed, reminding herself of the words Ingrid and Maurice told her, to never ever let anyone put her down ever again.

“My wit may not cut as swiftly as your Eiffel Tower of an ego, but I assure you, it is far, far, more enduring. Unlike your narrow-minded and shallow impressions,” Atlas retorted, her voice laced with a quiet but firm resolve. “My understanding of the world goes absolutely far beyond the boundaries of my own ego. It seems all you have to offer are crude remarks and empty boasting.”

Her words hold a subtle hint of defiance, challenging Tatum’s superiority and highlighting the depth of her own perception and understanding. She chuckled dryly and humorlessly under her throat. Atlas began to leave him as she walked to the other medic but her words left a mark on Tatum, piercing through his ego and stirring a flicker of doubt. Her confident demeanor and sharp rebuttal forced him to question his own perception and reevaluate his stance.

Atlas’ unflinching attitude, even in the face of Tatum’s attempted mockery, made an impression on him, leaving a sense of intrigue and respect that he struggled to reconcile with his usual sense of superiority.

The unnamed woman definitely made a mark on Tatum.