𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 . The woman who after a rough past fought her own way to success. A respected and well-known trauma surgeon. What everyone aspires to be and looks up to, she is no more than an angel that tries her best to make the world...
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I wake up on a bed in an unknown room, light walls with wood flooring. No windows. Just a tall black door in the center and a few pieces of nice minimal furniture. I have no idea of how much time I have been down for or where the fuck I am supposed to be at but I sure didn't expect it to be a place like this because the room might have no windows but it's not jail cell or a basement, it's just a room, one in perfect condition. With newly painted walls and a big chandelier illuminating it.
And It's strange, you would think they would tie me or do something up but no, apart from feeling dizzy due to the drugs they used on me everything seem to be fine which makes this even more confusing. Nothing makes any sense.
Getting up to a sitting position I crawl over the rather comfortable mattress to the wall behind me to have something to be against, I am about to lay back when someone enters the room. I can distinguish the tall intimidating man, with questionable manners, who basically kidnapped me.
"You are awake, finally. Get up he is bleeding." He stood tall and unfazed in front of me.
I can't tell a thing that is going through his head but there's no need, I'm smart enough to understand that not obeying to this man's orders is totally out of the question so carefully I try to get up but my arms have no strength. The drugs.
"A little help? You drugged me remember?" My quick mouth was definitely going to be a problem but he didn't seem to mind and helped me up.
Slowly walking out of the room I follow him through the clean gray colored hallways to another room that is just next to where I was. The man I saved lies on a bed in the middle of the it and he seems to be bleeding through the bandages.
"Here." The tall man hands me what appears to be a medical bag. "Do your job."
Okay...
Looking through the medium sized bag with shaky hands I find some alcohol and new bandages but there's no needle or suture. I can't do much with this, no when it looks like some of stitches on his abdomen had broken.
Slowly I reach for the bleeding man's shirt and put it up, my suspicions coming to live. "I need a needle and prolene." I look back toward the other man. If this is all the give there's no way I will be able to help this man.
Without a word he walks to the side, opens a cabinet and takes another bag out. One he quickly throws my way. "That's all we have." He mutters ignoring me completely and focusing his gaze on the man lying over the bed.
Thinking about how absurd it is to take me here without even having the right equipment I take everything out of the bag and find a needle — a sewing needle to be exact — and some thread. It's not ideal but since it doesn't look like a smart choice to say anything more to this man who already looks to be on the verge of snapping I decide to work with that. Fully removing the bandages I cut the old stitches with the scissors and clean the area with a cotton pad soaked in alcohol.
