Whispers

Chapter Five

5

"That looks like it hurts." Mr. Carter's hands rose to my face almost as soon as I had walked through the door to his office that next morning. His colorless eyes flitted over the bruise, skimming across my cheek, before meeting with my own, serious concern clouding his expression. "When did this happen?" he asked.

"Yesterday," I replied, stepping away to a comfortable once he had dropped his hands again.

"How?"

Chloe had been entirely right about my excuse from before not making much sense. It would have taken a great amount of skill to have smacked my head against a door knob and as much of a klutz as I could be I wasn't that bad. So I had spent the entire time getting ready this morning coming up with a whole new excuse. One that was actually somewhat believable.

"There was a fight in the halls and I got too close," I told him. "I ended up getting clipped by a rogue elbow."

"There always seems to be a fight going on these days." He gestured for me to sit down before turning away and walking into a small room to the left, opposite of where I had originally come in from. "You should have come to me as soon as that happened," he called back. "How do you feel now?"

"I feel fine," I answered, dropping my messenger on the floor and taking a seat on the small mattress he had pointed me to, pushing back the thick curtains that hung on either side. Likely there for privacy purposes in case someone had to change or sleep.

"Any pain?" Mr. Carter asked.

"Well, it's a black eye so yeah, some."

"Dizziness? Headaches?"

"I guess, kind of."

When he returned again he was carrying a small ice pack in one hand, wrapped in a thin towel. "Here." His free hand on my shoulder he gently pushed me back against the mattress. "I want you to lay down and put this on your eye."

"Isn't it a little late for that?" I asked but laid back all the same. The sheets beneath me were surprisingly soft, the gentle smell of detergent and bleach drifting up to greet my nose. They smelled exactly like the pillows in my dorm room.

"It's always a good idea to ice a black eye. Now, brace yourself. This might be a bit cold." Slowly, making sure I was ready for it, he placed the ice pack on my eye. Instantly a chill shot out through my face causing a small tingle to race across my scalp and down my neck. I was almost positive had I not been wearing my ridiculous yellow sweater Mr. Carter would be able to see the stretch of goosebumps I could feel making their way down my arms. Slipping his fingers around my hand he raised it upwards to rest against the cold pack. I could feel his warmth seep through the thick fabric of my glove a stark contrast to the freezing cold of the ice. The longer he held on the more awkward I began to feel. "Just keep that on that and in fifteen minutes we can take it off again."

"Fifteen minutes?" I balked. "My entire face will be frozen by then."

"Being a little dramatic now, aren't we?" he chuckled. After a small moment he released my hand and the warmth with it soon began to dissipate. Soon there was only the cold. "Is it alright with you if I ask you a few questions?"

"These those questions you were telling me about earlier?" I asked. "The ones that will help you get to know me better as a patient or whatever?"

"Those would be the ones. Do you have any objections?"

"Nothing in particular. Ask away, Doc."

He turned to retrieve one of the chairs positioned against the wall and dragged it closer to the bed. "So, tell me, Miss Thompson," Mr. Carter began. "How has your hand been feeling?"