Raseen ~ POV
I saw him admiring my paint. It was my mom last unfulfilled wish that I give her after her death. The first and last gift that I ever gave her and it took me six months to complete as I wanted it to be a perfect memory that we couldn't do physically.
There are so many emotions with each of my brush stroke. Each stroke is showing my struggle to overcome her death. Each stroke, has helped me relieve the burning pain in my chest and when it was completed I felt like moving on and I thought this would what mom had wanted me to do as well.
"This is the artist last gift to her dying mother who painted it.when she passed away" I said to snap him back to earth.
"Really, how come I haven't come across this artist? The stroke are the same style of Vincent Van Gogh? " he replied as his eyes were still glued to the paint.
"Because this artist start exhibiting her work just a few days ago and yes ...the person has the same sense of style as Vincent Van Gogh," I said.
I was getting very edgy and before he could ask more about the artist. I asked him to follow me into my mini hospital room.
I push the button that was further right to the paint and the glass door slides away letting us in. When we enter, the lights flicks on automatically.
It is a narrow hallway leading to my mini hospital that Dad made for me when I visited him when I was still a resident. It was in this room that I would spend hours to sharpen my skills.
This is the only part of the house that I hadn't visited ever since I had started living in Pakistan. I pushed the knob to inside and all the familiar scent hit me to the core. The cool antiseptic smell that I thought I had forgotten. Alas, I haven't forgotten anything, the loss, the betrayal, the struggle, the operation theater, the blood and the boy whom I have partially killed. The memories came rushing back with just one breath but you know what, I have to deal with it for now. I took in a huge gulp of air before I look at him.
I face him while tying my hair in a loose braid and ushered him to sit on the bed. He did as I told without hesitancy.
"Do you mind taking off your shirt by yourself?" I said while I disappeared to the closet to retrieve the things that I need.
I placed them on the table beside the bed and began to prepare for the stitches. But before I could move on, I realized he still hadn't done what I asked him to do.
I am very hot temper when people don't listen to me. When it comes to sensitive things it's better to move quickly without wasting a sec. The more we delay and dwell the worse the things gonna get.
I take the scissor and move toward him. I tell him to turn around and he looks at me dumbfounded.
"Since you aren't taking your shirt off. I am going to have it cut and that too in two pieces" I retorted with a mischievous smile on my face. I don't know why but suddenly I felt like playing around maybe it's because I feel nervous.
"Don't even think about that?" he said as he looked me in the eye without flinching.
I turned him around and before he could reason I scissored his suit into two equal pieces.
"Too bad, this is what you get when you don't listen to my instructions," I said as I put the scissor back in its rightful place.
"You just cut my designer suit into two pieces without letting me tell you that I can't take it off myself because it freaking hurt so much" he whisper-yelled at me annoyingly.
"Shhhhh...come closer," I said as he took the step to close the distance we still had.
I whisper into his ear as I heard our heavy breath coming in rhythm
" I don't want to touch you but I have to".
"Try me" now it was his turn to whisper in a husky voice as his breath fanned my ear.
"Okey," I said.
I moved my hand to his injured arm and give it a tight squeeze until he whimper in pain and shouted
" I was acting. You monster".
The monster word ringed in my ears. M.O.N.S.T.E.R.I hurt him unknowingly. I can't apologize because I can't find my voice.
I began to move so that I could quickly finish it. I took the part of his suit where he wasn't injured and gently pulled it off. I then moved to the injured arm and ever so slowly I remove the thick suit fabric as the wound became visible. It looked like he was stabbed multiple times purposely.
I took his injured hand in my hand and I felt like it belongs to me. The buzzing in my heart whimpered again. His hands that are so warm unlike how cold they look stir up something within me. An unknown emotion that I have no name for. I opened the cuffed and took the part of his shirt at collar where I had scissor. I removed it as his tan tone body became visible. His tone proves that of an athlete. The wound became even more visible under great light. And I wondered what weapon was used.
I could feel his gaze on me as I moved on with my examining. His greenness poking me at every nerve. The intensity within his eyes with which he was looking, I could practically melt. My knees were giving out but I tried to remained steel as I couldn't let him know what effect he is having on me.
When I was about to remove the other part of his shirt. I couldn't take his scrutinize gaze anymore.
"Could you stop staring at me like that?" I said in an irritated voice as I grabbed the collar of another part of the shirt that was still hanging on .....certainly looked like a beggar...
"Like what" he questioned as his eyes focused on me evermore.
"Just close it and let me do my work," I told as I began to remove the other part of him but I had forgotten to uncuff. So I hold his hand and his grips tightened which leave me horrified because he can't touch me like that it's against our religion.
"Don't do that..its haram..Are you even Muslim? " I questioned.
I pulled the other half and notice a slash on the left of his abdomen, where the stitches had been rapture.
"What about you? You can touch me all you want but I can't" he said and I felt my cheeks burned.
"I am the doctor. I have to" I said as I gathered his torn dirty clothes and dumped them in the bin. He manages to shut up finally. I made my way to the sink.
I turned on the warm water and wash my hands with antimicrobial soap and scrubbed. Finally, I rinsed my hands with an aseptic liquid. And then I wore sterile gloves to prevent contamination.
I came in and told him to sit and begin my way to clean the wound.
I thought my hands had forgotten its feel but as time passed by I gather my speed, cleanliness, and meticulousness that I was known for.
"When did you get hurt?" I questioned as the wound look deeper than I thought.
"This morning. On my way" he replied.
"How did you get hurt?" I asked
"I was stabbed by this punk," he said.
"Do you know this person?" I asked.
"Nope.Random" he said.
"But looking at the wound. It seemed planned because it's a multiple....Do you have any rivals that you know of..." I said.
"Of course...Every guy in this country is my rival since I am famous WD. Every girl, dream boy"
He said in an arrogant way and then he hushes up suddenly as he looks at me in the eye.
"It's all stitched up and the stitches will be removed in a week time until then it needs to be disinfectant every day," I said with great difficulty under his hypnotic gaze.
" And don't worry it won't leave any scar" I continue as he didn't reply.
"Will you do it for me? He questioned as his face came dangerously close to mine and his breath was fanning my face.
"No. I don't do it anymore and by this is the last time we will be seeing each other" I stood up and walked away.
Olah..people..hope u r fit and healthy. ....
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