“I’m sorry if this hurts,” the nurse gently apologises as she cleans and dresses my head wound.I mumble a reply, my eyes fixed on my hands in my lap. The nurse did her best to clean me up, but I can still see the dried blood embedded around my nails and cuticles. I pick at it, trying desperately to get rid of it but it won’t go away.When I was admitted, the nurses took photos of my injuries. They did that the last time I was attacked too but this time it felt so much worse; so much more invasive. They took photos of my head, face, hands, wrists, ankles and chest. I guess there were marks there too but I don’t want to think about it. They did so many other things, but I just tried to tune it all out, even though they were being so kind and gentle the entire time and always asking if I was okay to continue. I wasn’t, but I just wanted to get it over with.“Excuse me, we were hoping to have a word with Miss Contreras,” announces a masculine voice.I look up to see a male and female off
Last Updated : 2024-12-10 Read more