Bare Your Teeth, Wicked Ones

20. Visitors From the Past

William

A week passed where William hadn't so much as seen Charmaine. The evening they fought; she wasn't in their tent. Her belongings were gone. She left for another area, and he hadn't gone to speak with her. Somehow, she could tell that he had spent time with Nicholas. He could have told her, should have, but Nicholas was his shame. A time he rather not admit to another lest they judge his horrible decisions and potentially harm him. Even Charmaine because she had been odd of late.

She stole rations from a soldier outside his tent. Snatched the food right out of his hand and walked off as if she hadn't done it. Even that day, she snapped at nurses for mundane issues, being too slow, too loud, or getting in the way. They weren't busy by any means, mostly minor wounds from bored and idiotic soldiers, so there was no reason to be hasty, but Charmaine buzzed about the tent with unrivaled energy. Her actions put him on edge, although they may have had to do with their fight. They had never gotten into an argument before. He hadn't a clue how to remedy the situation. If he apologized, Charmaine would ask questions, so he had to be honest and that terrified him. Not speaking to her again terrified him more.

"Albie, may I speak with you?" he called. She didn't look up from where she sat at a soldier's bedside. He suffered from a terrible fever. Charmaine dabbed the sweat from his brow. Sighing, William approached to whisper.

"Depends on what you want to speak about." Charmaine's right eye twitched. A vein throbbed in her temple.

"Do you still suffer from headaches?"

Her jaw moved side to side.

"Come here," he demanded and took hold of her hand. Charmaine grumbled, but allowed William to drag her to the back of the tent where they kept a handful of supplies. The two nurses taking a smoke break within jumped at the sight of them. Charmaine had lectured one of the girls earlier, so she ushered her friend outside. William gestured to the chair at the small desk that Montogomery typically used to write up orders.

"Take a seat and show me your leg," he said.

"My leg?" Charmaine repeated.

"Your headaches started after the attack and you said that you have been irritable lately, so let me take a look at it."

Charmaine crossed her arms. "Is that all you wished to speak about?"

"No, but I will speak more while looking over your leg, so sit."

With a reluctant huff, Charmaine fell into the chair. William knelt and gently tugged up her pant leg to reveal a scar. Nothing more. No sign of an infection. He pushed the fabric up to Charmaine's thigh. Still no sign of a problem.

"See? Nothing unusual," she said and knocked her leg up and down. William pressed a hand against her warm skin, trying to sense any injury. Nothing came to him and he tugged the pant leg back down.

"Did you not suffer any other injury, back then or recently?"

"I haven't. You are worrying too much."

"I would argue you are not worried enough," he muttered and they fell into silence. Charmaine's hardened stare pierced the turbulent guilt at the base of his gut. He sighed. "You were right the other day, about who I have been seeing."

"Am I also correct to assume that he's the most troublesome option there is?" The frustration in her voice was clear.

"Yes."

"William," she hissed.

William stood with his back to her, peering into the medical tent. No one was near them, but speaking on this made him unbearably paranoid.