In one swift motion, Dr. Rosario lifts me into a cradle position and pinches the clip on my IV bag as he drapes over his shoulder. I think of protesting but the heat in my body keeps rising and I feel like someone has lit a match to every surface of my skin. I watch as he seems determined and almost frantic to reach the door at the back end of the room. He kicks it just enough to make it swing on the hinges. I jump at the sound. It reminded me of that one act of cruelty when I was thirteen. The one I didn’t deserve that made me hate the idea of my own beauty. Once inside, Dr. Rosario turns on the water in a stand up shower, hangs my IV bag on the hook just outside of the tile walls and steps inside with me in tow. The water is ice cold and I feel as though there’s steam radiating off of me or better yet him. I look at up at him like a sheep in the lions’ den. “I can stand.” I say in the tiniest voice. “I think I’ll carry you just for safety. I wouldn’t want you to slip and hur
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