Infection Runs Deep

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: A GAME OF SCALPELS AND SCREAMING

The rest of the shift was boring. No other real patients. We continued to monitor Mom and Baby, but everything seemed to be fine. So Nurse Anna left early, keeping her pager to remain on call. She was technically still working but didn't have to come in unless we needed her.

The sky had darkened into hues of mauve and deep sapphire, the clouds blurring the sparkling stars. I stared at them as I shut the clinic door for the night. They were so beautiful, some of the only things that have always been good and incorruptible. No matter how bad the day was, I knew that the stars would still be there, shining and casting light into the darkness. Even if they were hundreds of lightyears away and had already burned out, their light continued on. They made an impact after their death. They mattered. They had an impact. I wanted to matter, to have an impact on those around me. That's part of the reason that I became a doctor.

Even with the boot, my ankle throbbed, a relentless beat echoing my heart. Our stolen golf cart sat right where we left it. One good thing. After what happened in the golf cart this morning, I wasn't sure I wanted to ride in it again. But with my choices being riding with Oliver or walking a mile or so back to the Woods, I was inclined to choose the golf cart. I didn't think my ankle could handle the walk.

Besides, being in the clinic with Oliver wasn't so bad. We had worked together as a team. If I truly wanted to forgive him, I had to be willing to ride in a car with him after a fight, willing to swallow my pride and apologize, willing to work through the problem together, not pit ourselves against each other. It was so easy to blame him for everything. But it was us against the problem, not me versus him.

Leo had taken the night shift, opting to stay behind so that Oliver and I could talk. He didn't want to admit it, but Leo thought of my relationship with Oliver as a sort of soap opera. It was stupid and not worth his time, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

I sat down in the passenger seat of the cart and folded my hands neatly on my lap. Oliver slid in beside me, twisting the key to start up the cart. It was a quiet click, no loud roar like a real car. The rush of emotions in my ears overpowered the noise and I lost myself in thought,

"Are we going to talk about this?" Oliver asked, the wheels crunched.

I closed my eyes. "What more do you want me to say?"

He was quiet for a moment, long enough that I opened my eyes to look at him. "Listen," he said. "I get that I haven't always treated you how I should've and I'm sorry for that. But that doesn't mean that this relationship is over." He reached for my hand and I didn't pull away. "I love you, Elizabeth. I am willing to fight for you."

A soft sigh precursed my sad smile. "I don't know if I want you to fight for me." I covered my face with my free hand. "I don't know what I want."

Oliver's expression darkened. "Even after today? We worked perfectly together, babe. It was like old times."

"Today felt like what could have been," I said softly. "Seeing that couple with their new baby...That could have been us."

"It still can be, El." Oliver's voice was gentle, smooth like a rich coffee.

"Can it?" My voice was quiet but sharper than a knife. "Can I trust you?"

"You don't trust me? After everything?" The grip he had on my hand was tighter than a vise, tight enough to hurt.

I tried to retract my hand. "Let go."

"I'd trust you with my life, Elizabeth, but you don't trust me? You don't respect me enough for that?" He started to yell, his voice increased with every word, his grip tighter and tighter.

"Let go," I said more forcefully. "You're hurting me." He released my hand aggressively and I drew it to my chest, cradling it away from him.

"You think that hurt?" he said with a glower. "How do you think Ifeel knowing that you don't trust me or love me or respect me?"

I stayed silent, tears streaking down my cheeks. He got like this sometimes and I just had to ride it out. So many times, I defended him, I justified his actions. Now, I saw the truth. I couldn't do that anymore. I needed to stand up to him.

"You're right, Oliver." I took a long deep breath. "I don't trust you. Not as a partner. Without trust, I can't love you. I'm sorry, but I just can't."

He slammed on the cart breaks, jolting me forward. "You're sorry?" he growled, turning to face me fully, his eyes dimmed with anger.

I had to stand my ground. "Yes. But that doesn't change anything. I meant what I said."

Before I could blink, he backhanded across the face, hard. I recoiled, spitting blood and pressing my hand into my cheek. My eyes burned with unshed tears. It wasn't the first time this happened, but every time I hoped it would be the last. Every time I was wrong. Not this time.

"Get out," I said as harshly as I could muster. "Get out."

He didn't move, still staring at me, breathing heavily. "Elizabeth," he said.

"Don't." I turned away. "I don't want to hear it. Get out."

He grabbed my arm forcefully and turned me back to face him. "Look at me." I refused to meet his eyes. "Look at me."

"Let go," I ground out, my eyes hard.

"Not until you apologize."

"For what?" I started to yell, the tears coming in full force from my fear and frustration. "I won't apologize for telling the truth."

He raised his fist and I flinched, squeezing my eyes shut as if it would ward off the blow. It didn't. A hard crack as his knuckles collided with my upper cheek, the pain overwhelming. I cried out, pushing against him with the little strength I had left.

Through my sobs, I said, "Get out. Leave me alone."

He laughed without any mirth, running a gentle hand down my bruised cheek. A caress to heal the pain. "Elizabeth," he said. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. It was an accident." His voice broke. "It won't happen again. I'm sorry. My emotions were running too high."

I pulled away, getting out of the cart. "No, I'm done." I swiped at my cheek, smearing blood along my zygomatic bone like a glittery highlighter. Both were metallic. Mine was just much more pigmented. "Stay away from me."

I hobbled away, my ankle hurting with every step away. He didn't try to follow me. Good, I thought bitterly. I didn't want him to.

I managed to get to the clinic steps, collapsing onto them, the tears coming in full force. The reality of the situation hit me like a bus. I had just called off my impending marriage, severed ties with the one that I had promised to love forever. There was no going back.

Deep breaths. I was okay. I would be okay.

I didn't know if that was the truth.