The Aid

Part 8

"Marco!"

If it hadn't been for the sound of the door unlocking from the outside, that yell would've sent me to the ceiling like a frightened cat. "Polo!"

"God, you will not..." Violet paused, and for a second I could only hear the things she was discarding in the hallway, her shoes, bag, keys, anything that reminded her of going to work. "Believe the day I've had."

I put the sunflower-themed bookmarker back in my copy of Normal People, and tossed the book on the seat on the couch next to me, just as Violet came into the living room. To be honest—but only in my head and not out loud—she did look like I wouldn't believe the day she'd had. Strands of black hair falling out of her claw clip, bags under her eyes, and the frenzied attitude all indicated I was in for one hell of a story.

"Guy comes in," She began as she tried to plug her charger into her phone, but her hands shaking made it an unnecessarily, but comically longer process, "Says he fell backward into a window and is bleeding. Alright, he didn't look too bad, but we still check him out. He lays down, and immediately, I find it weird that like, none of his clothes are torn or anything- not even a scratch anywhere. And then he takes his clothes off."

Violet finally let her long hair out of her clip, whining a bit as she ran her fingernails over her scalp, and sat down on the living chair across from me. From the bottom shelf of the coffee table in the center, she pulled out an ashtray and her cigarettes—and that is where I knew it was going to get wild. She lit one of her occasional cigarettes that were only there for bad or unconventional days, and looked at me. She looked at me for a long few seconds before speaking, "He was bleeding from his asshole. Because he had glass in his asshole."

Violet nodded at my blank face as she took a long drag from her cigarette, "That is horrifying."

"Big time."

"What- what happened then, what did he say?"

"That he didn't know how the glass got there since he'd fallen into a window." She nodded while I shook my head, still in denial, "It was my last guy, too. It just happened like forty minutes ago."

"...You gotta go in the shower and boil yourself."

"Worst part is, I was the only one there when he came in, so I picked the shards out of his butt and stitch him up." She took a sip of the tea I had made for her when she texted me that she was close, but I could see in her eyes that she'd rather have driven herself into a ditch. "He's gonna be fine, but they're gonna call me Violet Glass Dildo. Violet Glass Asshole. Glasshole. Like Edward Scissorhands, I'm gonna be Violet Glasshole. Thanks for the tea."

I blinked at her sadly, knowing she used humor to cope with these situations when she was at her wits' end; I stood up and walked around the table, to throw the pale green mink blanket that was on my lap over her shoulders. I rubbed her arms while she nodded as a thank you, but I was afraid that no cozy, warm blanket or hot chamomile tea was going to save the evening. At least her hands were finally calming down as she was finishing her cigarette. "Thank you for the blanket, too."

"You're very welcome. I wish I could do something to take away the pain."

"The pain will last forever, but I think I'm gonna take your advice and just go boil myself."

I kissed the top of her head, earning a hum from her, "You are safe and you are surrounded by people who love you."

"And in my head, I'm trying to figure out what exact frail glass object that guy stuffed himself with."

"...You and me both."

Violet stubbed out her cigarette, got up, and kissed me on the cheek before leaving the room. By the time I returned to my spot on the couch, she had locked herself in the bathroom and was, without a doubt, going to use all the hot water we had. Even after working in the ER for a whole year and generally being numb to whatever her patients came with, she'd still have days when she'd come home speechless. All things considered, she was better off clocking out with some light trauma caused by some weird fetish stuff like this, than broken from true monstrosities that people were capable of. In the time that I'd known her, she'd had maybe two stories that made my skin crawl. Even under my warm blanket, I'd get goosebumps just thinking about the horrors she'd encountered.