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The next day went mostly without a hitch. That was until Dr Nazmi hollered for me and the latte I was drinking went down the pipe anything other than air shouldn't go down.

Ever-helpful Mandy hit my back twice, told me to suck it up, and pushed me off the stool.

Jesus, was I about to get fired? Did people get fired for hanging around in a consultation room for too long?

I went to where she was standing in front of the physio room, a medical notepad in hand and an everlasting frown on her face.

"Hurry up," she said, each word dripping with irritation.

I speed-walked to her as she regarded each of my ill-fitted steps. I was a considerable number of inches taller than her, yet it felt like she was looking down on me.

"Rebecca told me you wanted to intern here."

Oh, thank Jesus. This was just about the internship. I was not getting fired. All was good with the world.

"Yes. An internship will knock off three credits off my seventh term, so I was—"

"I have a task for you."

"Oh. Okay."

"You know Christopher Beckett? Of course, you do. The two of you mistook the consultation room for a lounge yesterday."

If I could flush red, then I would've at that instant. "I'm really so—"

"I need you to help him with therapy."

"Yo—You need me to... Huh?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck

Sirens went off in my head. Loud, blaring sirens that eerily spelt out run. Run away. Don't look back. Keep going forward. Till your knees give out and your feet bleed. After that, run some more.

"I said I need you to help him with therapy."

"No, yeah, no. I understood that. It's just I have no experience—"

"All you need to do is stick with him."

"Stick with him." Nope. Not happening.

"Monitor his progress."

"His progress." Over my dead body.

"Note down if he's feeling any pain or discomfort. And then report it immediately back to me."

"Report it to you." I'd rather report it to the Devil.

"Do you have to repeat everything I say?"

I shifted my gaze to my shoes. "Yeah. No. Sorry."

She clicked her tongue. If it was mild irritation at first, she had now progressed to the stage of I can't believe I'm dealing with a donkey. She shoved the medical notepad she was holding into my hands, and was about to leave after saying, "Note down today's progress in that," when I stopped her.

Again, I wanted to shrink into myself when she cast me those eyes that screamed vermin at me. "I'm sorry. I—Why me?"

"Why you?"

Now, who's the one repeating? "I'm not experienced. And I feel one of the physios here will be able to help him better."

"See, Neil." A step closer. "Do I look like an idiot to you?"

"Yes. No! No, I meant no."

"We're understaffed. Also, I'm not going to find a physio who is ready to spend an entire hour with one patient. Rebecca is the one helping Beck with his exercises, but she has another patient at the same time, and she can't give her full attention to him. I want someone on him the entire time he's here."

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