Chaos and painkillers

31. Do you survive in hell?

Wednesday, 22nd may, 2019.

"Psst!"

Startled, the highlighter fell from Laila's fingers to her table, down to the floor, her frightened gaze whizzing to Naimat. Naimat gestured at the door where one of the doctors stood, gripping the latch, a tight expression smeared on his face.

"Halima Amin?"

In pure respect and alarm, she stood erect, "Yes, sir?"

"Follow me."

Laila's heart skipped a beat, her gaze falling back to her colleague who lifted a perplexed brow at her. Why was she looking at her like that? Even she didn't know what was going on.

Nonetheless, Laila composed herself and muttered. "I'll be right back." Then walked out of the room with everyone's eyes paying attention to her gait. Once out, she took a deep breath, swallowing the last bit of saliva in her mouth before exhaling shakily.

She dipped her hands into her dress pocket and fisted them inside as she followed the doctor from the OBGYN department who had blatantly insulted her in one of their numerous cesarean section observation.

Laila alternated between biting the insides of her cheeks and her lips as he lead her through the hallway that connected the clinical academics site and the real clinic.

She exhaled another shaky breath just in time for the man to stop. She did too, only that she stopped breathing too. "We part here, the MD wants to see you."

MD?

MD?

MD?

Eyes wide as saucers, she pushed her head forward in question, voice shaky. "The uhm-the Md? Medi-medical director?"

In a dismissive grumble, the man barely acknowledged her as he started to walk away. "Did i stutter?"

Doctors and being angry, 5&6.

She blinked. Fast. Too fast. Then whizzed at the man that was about to take a corner, "Thank you, sir!" There was nothing thankful about what the asshole just did. But, if you knew what you were doing in medical school, you'd do well to remember every insult thrown at you must be received wholly, or else, well, wait until ward rounds or exams or attitudinal scoring came.

"Right!" She declared at no one in particular, revving her sweaty hands from her pocket and clapping.

As fast as she could, she walked to the said director's office. There, she knocked thrice and heard a, "Come in."

Laila fisted her hands, hard enough to draw blood as she took a second to brace herself. Once she felt it was enough, she unlatched the door and poked her head with a; "Salam'alaykum."

With a small smile, the aging man behind the chair in the lavish, large office threw her blessings back. "Wa'alaykumus Salam, Laila."

Masking the fact that she was about to shit her pants, she closed the door behind her and preceded with a fake smile that looked genuine. "Ina yini, Baba?"

"Lahia lau, Laila. How are you doing?" He gestured to the empty seats in front of his table. "Please, have a seat."

"Yes, sir." She nodded, answering the rest of their greetings before she sat on the chair. Now that he couldn't see much, she crossed her legs and clasped her shaky hands on her abdomen while making herself busy by bouncing her legs.

She already had so many shits rumbling in her head, so;

What did the man want?

Why was she called here?