Wild by Tina Folsom Read Free Book Online

coffee table.
     Vince pulled the blanket to the side to reveal my injured leg. He started taking the dressing off. His fingers seemed to stroke my skin as he held up my leg to unwrap the bandage. My skin tingled under his soft touch. It felt as if his hands caressed me with every movement, but of course I was just fantasizing. He was a doctor. It was what he did for a living. Touching somebody else didn’t mean the same for him as it did for me.
    “It will hurt a little when I pull the last bit away,” he warned me.
    I looked at it and could see blood had encrusted somewhat on the last layer of the gauze. I understood what he meant. I could also see the discoloration of my skin around the wound. The sight made me feel nauseous all of a sudden.
    He looked at me and understood instantly. Immediately he turned his body to obstruct my view so I could no longer see the wound.
    “Are you ready?” His voice was but a whisper.
    “Ok.” My voice sounded less than sure.
    The tear was painful, but the pain disappeared almost instantly. I could feel him touching the skin around my wound and applying some cool-feeling ointment. He applied the gauze and dressed it. It was all over very quickly, far too quickly. I wanted him to touch me longer.
    He gently placed my leg onto the couch.
    “Thanks.”
    “Sorry, we’re not quite done.”
    I looked over his shoulder. It looked done to me.
    “You have another injury,” he claimed. “On your other leg. Let me turn you around so I can get to it.”
    He lifted me up and reversed my position on the couch. I looked at my other leg and saw what he meant. It was another spot covered in gauze and I remembered the spot. It was exactly where I had received the injection for the clinical trial.
    “Oh. What happened?” I didn’t think the attacker had stabbed me a second time. I was pretty sure of that.
    “I was hoping you could explain that to me.”
    “I’m not the doctor. You are.” I didn’t understand what he was getting at. “You are a doctor, aren’t you?” I was suddenly filled with doubts.
    He smiled only briefly. “Yes, I am. But I can’t explain this. Maybe you can.”
    I took a small item from the table. It was in a small plastic bag. I looked at it. It was an oblong item not larger than a quarter of an inch if that much. I shook my head.
    “What is it?”
    “I found it in your thigh. Right here.” He pointed to my second injury then looked intently at me. His eyes were probing and he seemed anxious.
    “I needed some money…“
    He waited.
    “So I went to the hospital and took part in a clinical trial. They said it was some kind of contrast liquid they were testing.”
    “Which clinic?” he asked urgently.
    What did it matter? “UCSF.”
    “Which clinic at UCSF?” His eyes felt like they wanted to penetrate me.
    “I don’t remember.” I could feel his impatience. “But I have a card from them.” I bent over to the coffee table and fished out the card I had taken out of my jeans.
    He took it from me and looked at it. When he looked up, I saw pain in his eyes.
    “At what time did they inject you?” His voice sounded strained.
    “Around four o’clock yesterday.”
    His eyes shot to the clock over the TV and he seemed to calculate. The look on his face worried me. He didn’t say anything, but got up and walked to the door.
    “What is it?” He didn’t turn. “Vince, tell me what it is!”
    “Stay here.” His voice was harsher than I had heard it before. He stopped, but didn’t turn. “Please,” he added, his voice beseeching now.
    I was frightened. Something in his demeanor told me he was terrified. He was the doctor. He shouldn’t be scared. He should be the one telling me I was ok. Why was he not doing that?
    What was wrong? The stab wound was much bigger and I was sure I had lost a lot of blood, but he wasn’t too worried about that. So why was he getting so angry about the little injection? Did he not approve of people getting paid for