FlyGirl - The First Edition

Chapter 5: I'm the one who got shot here

SOMETIME LATER, I woke up in the Home Office's medical department to find a doctor bandaging my arm. The doc was obviously a relative, what with the red hair, green eyes, and judgmental attitude. I looked down at his work.

"Is it bad, doc?" I asked. "Am I going to make it?"

"Yes," he replied, all monosyllabic judgment pouring off of him. Like that ever bothers me.

"Do you think it'll scar?" I continued. "I hope it scars. It'll give me street cred."

"No. I don't think it'll scar. It's just a graze."

"Are you sure? I wanted a scar."

"Yes, I'm sure."

I laid back down. "Whatever. I'm still gonna milk it for all it's worth. My brother shot me, give me stuff." I grinned at him. "It has pathos, right?"

The doctor stared at me like I was a defecating cockroach. "You were lucky it didn't hit a bone or an artery."

"I'm lucky my brother can't shoot for shit." I sat back up. "Hey, you got a lollipop for me?"

"No."

"How about some Percocets, then?"

The doctor signed something on a chart. "No. You don't need Percocets. Take some Alieve, psycho girl."

"I'm in pain, doc. My brother shot me."

"Do you really think that will work?" he asked while he washed his hands.

"Eventually. Are you really not going to give me any pain killers?"

"I'm really not going to give you any pain killers." He tossed his trash into a medical waste trashcan.

"Not even Tylenol 3?"

"Not even Tylenol 3."

"How about Dilaudid?"

"No."

"Morphine?"

"No."

"God, doc," I groaned. "You suck."

He gave me this unimpressed look. "It's not medically necessary, psycho girl."

"Says you." I yawned. "Man, I'm hungry. Is there anything to eat around here?"

"Nope." He walked over to the door and then paused. "So, psycho girl, why'd you'd firebomb your brother?"

I looked at him, all wide eyed. "Firebomb? Whachyou talking about, Willis? I don't know nothing about no firebombing." I batted my eyes at him innocently. "There was an electrical fire, and then Pat shot me."

"Right. I'm sure that's what happened because it makes complete sense," he replied in a tone so dry it made me thirsty.

"It's my story and I'm sticking to it."

"You're such a McIver," he sighed and opened the door. "You know you have to stay here until they decide what to do with you."

"I figured. Hey, can I borrow your phone?"

"No," said the doctor as he pulled his phone from his jacket and placed it on a counter. "You most certainly may not. I'm always losing the thing, anyway. I set it down and then I can't remember where I set it."

"Phones, man. What are you going to do?"

He gave me a small smile. "Good luck, psycho girl. I hope the whole my brother shot me thing works out for you." He started walking out.