4| The Good Doctor

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He could read the fear in her eyes and felt the slightest stirring within him.  He took a deep breath to calm himself before reiterating, "You can't leave until you're fully healed. Unfortunately I can't trust you to take of yourself."

"I'm fine!" she countered stubbornly but winced at the slightest throb in her wrist.

He chuckled "Let's get your wound treated before it gets infected." He headed to the kitchen, not bothering to check if she was following. He went straight for the drawer underneath the sink and pulled out a first aid box after which he turned to find Mai hovering at the door way. He knew she was fighting with herself on whether she should trust him or not. Understandable but by the time that battle would've ended, she would've bled out.

"Please sit!" he stated firmly yet politely.

With a heave, she made her way towards the island and sat on one of the stools. He sat in front of her, placing the box on the counter. He then proceeded to unravel the blood soaked bandage. Silently he began working on the wound.

Mai watched the stranger work expertly on her wound. He must be a doctor, she thought. She practically knew nothing about him, she realised except that he was frightful sometimes. She didn't even know his name.

"What's your name?" she asked.

He raised his head momentarily, pushing his glasses up. "Henry"

"Why are you helping me?"

"You need help."

She yanked her arm from his grasp angrily. She was tired of being pitied. "Who are you to decide whether I need help or not? Even if I did, I sure as hell didn't ask for yours."

"You could seriously get hurt if you keep up with this. Your wound is still fresh." He reached out to grab her arm again but she stood up abruptly, causing the stool to fall.

"Stay away from me." she yelled out and turned to leave when he grabbed her arm to stop her. Startled, she turned and slapped him.

Henry immediately released his hold and stared at her in shock. She hit him. The realization hit him and suddenly, he feared for her life. He could feel rage simmering within. Along with it came the awfully familiar stirring. He took off his glasses and shut his eyes.

Stay calm! Stay calm! he chanted softly to himself. When he opened his eyes and found her staring weirdly at him, he found himself getting angry again. He needed to get out. He grabbed his glasses and stormed out of the kitchen into his study, making sure to lock the door. He frantically searched through his drawer for his black pouch. Once he found it, he fell into his chair and  struggled to open it.

He couldn't lose control. He just couldn't. He finally got it open and quickly stabbed his neck with a vial. Painstakingly, he dragged himself to the brown couch in the room, passing out just as he reached it.

~
It was quiet and slightly dark outside when he woke up. Early birds chirped happily for a new day, a happiness he could not partake in. He had been so close to losing himself for the first time in six years. For years, after he got past his suicidal stage, he trained himself to be patient and tolerant with everything and everyone for their own sakes. Yet, in a single day, all those years felt like waste.

With a grunt, he got up from the couch and cleared his desk of the mess he made the night before. With the pouch safely locked in the drawer and papers cleared, he marched to the window to stare at the beautiful horizon. Due to the harmattan, Ghana's version of winter, the atmosphere was clouded with mist but the picture of the sun's rays bursting through calmed his troubled heart. He eventually walked out of the study, ready to face the day.

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