The waiting area was full to the brim when I stepped into the sterile building. The splint pressed uncomfortably into my hip and I received disparaging looks as I sat down in the surgeon's waiting area.
It smelled of disinfectant and reminded me in an unpleasant way of the hospital stay after my parents' murder, of the way the police had glared at me and told me that my parents would never greet me again when I got home.
Tears welled up in my eyes and blurred my vision of the other people in the waiting room.
A woman in a wheelchair came into the large waiting area and as I was unable to bend my leg, she had to stop in front of me.
The disparaging looks increased, because now I couldn't let the woman through.
The sight made it difficult for me to breathe, because I was also supposed to ride around in a wheelchair so that the painstakingly stitched-together muscle mass of my leg couldn't tear.
But I refused to live like this, refused to limit my life to the minimum.
Even if the doctors didn't want to accept it, I still had so much quality of life left in me and I refused to simply throw it away.
"For Ledger."
I was torn from my thoughts when the nurse picked me up in an uncomfortable-looking wheelchair, as she did at every doctor's appointment, forcing me to sit in it so she could wheel me to the doctor.
I sighed as I sat down and let myself be taken to the doctor without saying a word.
The people looked at me as if they had only just found out that the murderer had been released and the pity in their eyes made me want to sink into the ground.
The scar suddenly started to burn, which probably had a lot to do with my pounding heart.
"Ah," the doctor greeted me with a gentle smile on his lips. He usually looked different, had deep circles under his eyes and looked completely sallow. "There you are again." He clapped his hands in delight, but I couldn't even return his joy by half.
"Yes," I sighed. "Here I am again."
The nurse left the room as she always did, as she was unable to look at the injury without losing consciousness.
She was pale as she closed the door behind her.
"You're here for stitches today, right?" my doctor asked me as he rummaged through the cupboards for the equipment he would need.
I nodded disapprovingly.
"It still hurts." I tried as hard as I could to force it out, but only fragments of my voice left my throat.
"Mhm." the doctor nodded as I sat down on the patient couch and pulled down my trouser leg. I didn't feel uncomfortable sitting in front of him without my pants, because he put a warm blanket over the other leg and covered my underwear.
The cool gloves gave me ice-cold goose bumps because they reminded me so much of the ice-cold blade that had been stuck in my leg for so long.
The still unhealed scar looked absolutely hideous.
Pain twitched all the way to my toes when the doctor touched the wound. He tried to find the spot that still hurt —
He didn't understand that everything hurt.
A cry of pain escaped my throat, causing the doctor to remove his hands in a frantic movement. He seemed almost afraid to touch me again.
"I'm sorry, but we have to pull the stitches." I took a deep breath.
I managed it.
It wasn't as bad as the actual knife in my leg.
The stitches went from my groin down to my knee and every time I saw the open wound I wondered how I had survived it and my parents hadn't.
My leg ached just at the thought of having a scalpel near my leg and suddenly I was gripped by naked fear.
"Have you been to therapy recently?" the doctor tried to distract me, but failed so miserably that I wanted to get up and run away.
"Yes." I lied, hoping he wouldn't be able to uncover the bad lie.
I had neither the strength nor the will to talk about the past.
A knock at the door made the doctor pause in his movement and I was so grateful to the nurse who poked her head through the door and an unhealthy pale color immediately entered her face.
"Mr. Norris has just arrived. Shall I send him over?" My mind raced. I didn't want him to see this. I didn't want to have to explain to him what had happened, I didn't want him to look at me like I was unstable.
"Yes, please." the doctor replied faster than I would have had the chance to.
I felt dizzy and my pulse doubled at the thought of seeing Lando again.
"Why did you do that?" I hissed in pain that I couldn't even begin to put into words even if I wanted to.
"He funded the operation. Without him, you'd be dead."
My heart skipped a beat and dropped so low in my pants I was afraid it would hit the floor.
But Lando would never let it get that far, would save it from the impact.
The Brit stuck his head through the door before entering the room and immediately the tears came back to my eyes when I saw his soft eyes.
"Lando..." I sobbed, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in his protective arms.
The racer looked at me gently, glanced at the stitched wound and then looked back into mine with tears in his eyes.
"Oh, Sage." He came towards me with long strides and pulled me so tightly into his strong arms that I felt safe for the first time in a long time.
He gently stroked up and down my back, placing a heartbreaking kiss on the base of my neck.
"You saved my life," I realized meekly as I looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. The Brit smiled gently at me and nodded barely perceptibly.
"That's a story for another time."
Lando nodded to the doctor, who came back towards us with the scalpel. My eyes widened, but I didn't feel the need to escape into Lando's arms.
"I can't do this." I sobbed, crying into Lando's shirt. I clung to him as tightly as I could, but nowhere near strong enough to ignore the pain that was coming.
"Yes, you can." The McLaren driver looked at me seriously, put his hands on my cheeks and stroked small circles over them. "And you will. You're the strongest woman I know. You can do anything."
Suddenly it really felt like I could do anything —
Because Lando was by my side and I was sure I could do anything with him. He assured me of so much more security than I had thought was possible and I tried to cling to that.
Lando pulled me into his arms so that my gaze was completely shielded. I could no longer see anything, I could only perceive Lando's calm breathing, which I tried to focus on.
YOU ARE READING
𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐄, lando norris
Fanfiction❝i don't want to have the worlds attention. yours is enough. ❞ formula one fanfic lando norris x female!oc
