8
Lucas
When I bring Yulia back into the living room, Goldberg has her stand while he feels her pulse and listens to her breathing with a stethoscope. “Good, good,” he mutters under his breath, jotting down something in his notebook.
He bends down to look at a big bruise on her knee, and Yulia shoots me an anxious glance. I can see that she wants answers, but I don’t give her any reassurance.
I don’t want the doctor to know how much I’ve softened toward my captive.
After a minute, Goldberg stops and gives Yulia a smile. “Just a few scrapes and bruises,” he says cheerfully. “You’re underweight and a little malnourished, but a few good meals should fix that. Now, I’d like to take some blood if you don’t mind. Please, have a seat.”
He points toward the couch, and Yulia glances at me aga
