Chapter 7: Treated
The inside of the CDC was dark, daunting, and disappointing.
But not nearly as dark, daunting, and disappointing as Dr. Edwin Jenner, who came to greet us after we entered. The sole inhabitant of the CDC. The only one there in that big, empty building.
It was clear the moment we realized no one else was there except for him. There really was no hope anymore. The world had been shot to hell and was never, ever coming back.
I honestly couldn't tell you a lot about that night. Everyone was celebrating our safety, despite the newest grim outlook on life in general, and someone handed me a drink and I just took it. Who cared if I was under twenty-one? It's not like anyone was around to enforce the old laws, even though Rick and Shane had been in law enforcement. And who cared that I'd seen what alcohol did to people who abused it like my stepfather? I deserved a little break. Besides, my shoulder had been bothering me for the last hour or so, and I figured a bit of alcohol might take the edge off of it.
It was Daryl who offered me the booze. Unlike Glenn, who looked a little baffled at the thought of alcohol, I took it immediately and didn't say a word. I choked it down, despite the fact that it didn't really appeal to my taste buds, and tried to ignore Rick's disapproving look. It didn't really matter what he thought, because he'd had enough to knock him out for the night. I noticed as much when I watched him stumble off to bed, looking for Lori and Carl. By that time I was completely wasted, and I had a feeling I wasn't going to remember much the next morning.
I had one thing to do before I lost consciousness. I searched everywhere for Andrea, and finally found her in one of the rooms, lying on a bed in quiet. Her eyes were wide open.
"Andrea?" I said, hearing the slur in my voice.
"Noah?" I was surprised at how clear her voice was. She couldn't have had a sip of all the free booze. "How much did you have to drink?"
"A lot," I said, taking a step in the room. "I wanted to say something to you."
"What?" she replied.
"I'm really sorry about Amy," I said, and then I started laughing. "It's funny, isn't it, how someone like me, who has no one caring about them at all, is spared, while someone like Amy, who is so loved and cherished by you and Dale, dies? It's almost comical. But that's this world, isn't it? How brutal and real and sickening is it. Why am I even trying?" My laughs turned into coughs, and then I realized I was going to be sick. I made a beeline to the little bathroom in Andrea's room and started to throw up into the toilet.
Andrea was at my side immediately, pulling my hair back. "God, Noah, how much did you drink?"
"A lot," I repeated, and then retched again.
When I was done, I sat back against the wall and wiped my mouth with a towel. My head felt equal parts fuzzier and clearer at the same time, and it was hell. "I'm sorry," I said. "What I said…I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it. When I was seventeen I did far worse things when I was drunk. I know you don't really find Amy's…what happened to Amy funny."
"Andrea, can I crash on your floor tonight?" I asked. "I don't want to move anymore."
She nodded. "Of course. But you take the bed. Honestly, I know you need it more than I do."
"No, it's fine, I'm drunk, I won't even remember sleeping on the floor—"
"You're a hammered seventeen-year-old with a gouged out arm and a beaten in face. You're taking the bed."
I didn't argue any further. Andrea led me to the bed, which I fell down upon immediately. A real, actual bed. It'd been so long. There was a pillow beneath me, a mattress, and blankets to cover myself with. A real miracle. I could barely feel Andrea pulling the shoes off of my feet and placing an extra blanket over me, and I fell asleep clutching the pillow in my hand and thinking of Amy.
The next morning was painful and sluggish. My head was swimming, and I relished the pillows and the mattress for about ten minutes before forcing myself up and into the bathroom. I looked into a mirror, shocked and yet not really shocked by my appearance. I was kind of one big mess. My hair was mussed and tangled, the bruises on my face from Ed were dark and prominent, and I was a little too thin. Even though I'd gotten a little tanner since the world ended, I was still pretty pale, courtesy of my redhead genes. My eyes were the same plain hazel, and I remembered the days when I used to rim them with eyeliner and mascara and cover my freckles with makeup. Those days were long gone. I hadn't even seen a tube of mascara in weeks.
Andrea had already left the room, so I decided to take a shower, hoping that would numb some of the throbbing madness that was drumming in my head. I could have died when I realized there was hot water. As steam filled the bathroom, I shed my clothes and stepped into the shower. It was bliss, even though my headache ruined it a little bit. I ran my fingers through my hair as the water poured down over my head. I found some soap, shampoo, conditioner, and even a razor. It was like a little piece of heaven.
I limited myself. There was no use in getting too attached to the luxury of a shower. After I was sufficiently cleaned, I wrapped my hair up in a towel and stepped out. I grabbed my one other change of clothes, a pair of dark denim pants and a loose white button down with a new bra and pair of underwear, and laced up my boots, and put my knife in my pocket. I found a little plastic baggie to put my dirty clothes in and then shoved all of my other things into my backpack. I looked longingly at the bed, where the pillow was. It wasn't a super thick pillow. I didn't think about it before I did it, I just grabbed the pillow. It folded into a surprisingly small little section, and it fit into my backpack nicely. I zipped everything up, slung the bag across my shoulder, took the towel off my head, and pulled my hair into a sloppy wet bun before finally stepping out of the room.
Everyone was eating breakfast, looking miserable as they nursed hangovers. I was overwhelmed to see that they were eating eggs—powdered eggs, no doubt, but still, eggs. They all looked up at me as I walked in, and Lori offered me a seat by her. I sat down silently, not even noticing as T-Dog gave me a plate. After a belated thank you, I dove into the food as eagerly as everyone else.
"Did you sleep well?" Lori asked after a little bit, glancing at me sideways.
"Kind of," I grumbled.
She grinned. "I take it you've never had anything to drink before."
"Never. And never again."
Everyone grinned a little at that. Even Dr. Jenner, who had seemed to be decidedly against smiling ever. I looked at him, and he met my gaze.
"Those bruises look a little better this morning," he said to me, gesturing towards my face. Everyone quieted down as he pointed them out. I nodded, not knowing what else to say. "How'd you get them?"
"Tripped," I replied quickly. "The end of the world doesn't cure clumsiness it seems."
Dr. Jenner looked around at everyone else, obviously not buying my story. The narrowed eyebrows of Shane and Rick probably told him all he needed to know. He looked at me again. "Were you able to put any ice on it? Or take any swelling medication or anything?"
"No," I replied. "Ice and medicine are a little hard to come by these days."
"Not here, they aren't," he said, giving me a little half grin. "C'mon, I can get you something for that."
"Are you sure?" I asked. "You don't have to waste your supplies on me."
"Of course," he replied. "There's no one else here for me to give this stuff to, and I don't think I'm going to be tripping quite as badly as you did any time soon."
I blushed a little bit, but I took one more bite of eggs and then stood up and followed him to another room. He opened up a cabinet and told me to sit down in a chair. He pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen and handed me an ice pack, which he had pulled out of a tiny refrigerator. "Here you go," he said. "What's your name again?"
"Noah. And thanks," I replied, taking two of the pills and putting the ice pack against my head.
"You have blood on your shirt," Dr. Jenner noted, pointing towards my clothes. "Is that from one of the reanimated?"
"What? No I changed clothes—" I looked down to see the shoulder of my shirt stained with a little blood. "Oh, that's nothing. Just a scratch."
"Do you want me to take a look at it?" he said. "I'm not a medical doctor, but my old man was, and he taught me a lot."
"Well, I don't know, I mean it's just a scratch," I repeated.
"What'd you scratch it on?" he asked, switching gears.
"I…I honestly don't know," I replied truthfully. "I was running from a walker…and I just got snagged…."
"Oh, so now it's a snag, not a scratch?" Dr. Jenner asked with the barest of grins. I just shrugged, despite the pain the simple motion wrought. "C'mon, just let me look at it."
"It's okay, really," I said quickly, wanting to just melt away into the background and escape somehow.
"Is there something you don't want me to see?" he asked, concerned. The look on his face darkened. "Have you been bitten? Or scratched?"
"You took my blood when I came in, you know I'm not infected," I replied, but my heartbeat quickened.
"Then let me help you. I can help lessen the pain, and make sure there's not an infection. You're friends out there, they're smart I'm sure, but they don't have the antiseptic and antibacterial tools that I have."
I took a deep breath. "Okay."
"Good," Dr. Jenner replied. "Now I need you to unbutton your shirt about halfway so that you can easily push down the sleeve on your arm."
I did as he told me, knowing I was about to reveal a little bit more than just the wound I'd gained the day before. It was the reason I'd been so hesitant for him to help me in the first place.
My stepdad and I hated each other long before he married my mom. In fact, he had been my middle school math teacher, and I had complained about him so much at home that my mother had finally set up a parent teacher conference with him to sort out my issues. And I guess it was love at first sight, because soon enough he was coming over to my house and spending the night in my mom's room, and then suddenly there was a rock on her finger and there were wedding bells in the air. And I never hated him less.
He was raging. He wasn't a drunkard, although on the rare occasion he had a drink he'd get a whole lot worse; he wasn't an addict. But he had a serious problem with anger. And he would take it out on us, the kids, and scare us enough to never tell our mom, although I suspect she knew. But he had her brainwashed, and she really just loved him to pieces, and she was so blind to his faults that it hurt all of us.
Aaron, my older brother, tried as hard as he could to take the force of the blow. He tried so hard to stand in front of every swung fist, ever steel-toed boot flying Mandy's and my way. But he couldn't take them all. Our stepdad was a menace, and he had left more than his fair share of scars to prove it.
One of those scars was located right on my collar bone, and it stretched across my shoulder, where Dr. Jenner would surely see it. It had happened one night when Aaron was out late working, trying to get enough money to go to college. My stepdad got pissed off at Mandy because she spilled her chocolate milk all over the couch, which was "just reupholstered, you worthless bitch" and "unfixable, you ungrateful, stupid whore". I honestly couldn't have told you where he came up with his insults—nowhere of any substantial merit, because how anyone could call a six-year-old a bitch and a whore was beyond me. And I had watched as he knocked a china plate onto the floor from the china cabinet in anger, and then picked up a broken half and hurled it at Mandy. He missed, but she was too frozen with fear to run away, and so when he picked up the second half of the broken china, I quickly pushed her to the side and was surprised when it hit me square in the shoulder.
Aaron had been forced to take me to the hospital. I had needed twenty-four stitches.
As I slid the sleeve of my shirt down, I saw Dr. Jenner's eyes glance across the scar. "Is that from another one of your bouts of clumsiness?"
"Yes."
"Hm," he replied darkly, and then said no more before assessing the recent damage that the walker chase had done to me. "Well, it looks decently cared for, although you definitely needed to change your bandages. I'm just going to clean it even more thoroughly and patch you up even better."
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"Of course," he replied, dismissing my thanks with a wave. He poured some medicine onto a cotton ball and began to gently swipe it across the wound. I gasped at the sharp stinging sensation it brought, tears of pain prickling in my eyes. "It'll stop hurting in a second," he assured me, and then he layered some sort of gel on top of it, initiating an immediate cooling sensation. "Better?"
"Better," I affirmed.
"Now, can you slide your arm out of the sleeve so that I can bandage you properly? I'll have to bind it around your entire shoulder for it to be secure."
"Okay." I did as he told again.
As he bent over me to start the bandaging process, the door squeaked open behind him. I saw Rick walking in, concern on his face. "Hey! What the hell are you doing to her?"
I guess from his perspective it could have looked a little off. The doctor hovering over me, my shirt half removed from my body. "It's fine," I said reassuringly. "He's just checking on my original wound while he's at it."
"Oh. Okay. Right. Sorry." He looked tired and embarrassed.
"It's alright," Dr. Jenner said. "Suspicion is a very safe thing." He finished up the bandage and grinned at me. "You're all set now."
"Thanks," I replied, pulling my shirt back up and buttoning it.
Dr. Jenner gave me a grin. "Why don't you go finish your breakfast? I could see you hadn't had all that you could eat before."
"Okay," I replied, just ready to get out of the room. Dr. Jenner had been gracious, but he set me on edge. And I didn't like being so uneasy. "Thank you again."
And I left.
TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWD
The moment Noah was out of earshot Rick took two steps towards the doctor. "She's okay, isn't she?"
Dr. Jenner nodded. "Her recent injuries do not put her in any immediate danger."
Rick narrowed his eyes. "What are you leaving out, doc?"
Jenner sighed. "How long has Noah been with you?"
"She's the newest member. We just picked her up about two days ago."
The doctor nodded again. "So you don't know much about her or where she came from?"
"We know enough."
"Well, I feel obliged to tell you this, because you seem to be the man in charge. Noah appears to have some old scars, probably from several years of severe physical abuse. I don't know if it was someone in her family or not, but she made it very clear she didn't want to talk about it. I'm sure you know, as a sheriff, how some of these victims can turn out. I just thought you should know, so you could keep an eye open."
Rick just stared at him. "You think she could be some kind of nutcase?"
"No," Dr. Jenner replied. "Just…a little more unpredictable."
"You don't know her. She's incredibly level headed."
"Do you know her? Really?"
"She's managed to survive on her own. She's brave and strong. She tried to stop one man in our group from hitting his wife and ended up taking the blow. She's selfless. So don't tell me that just because some bastard decided to target her she is somehow unstable and unreliable."
"I'm not saying that," Dr. Jenner said. "I'm just saying…you just might need to watch out for her. Anything or nothing could break her. You just don't know."
Rick simply nodded, feeling an oldness creep into his bones. "So you said the abuse was…severe?"
Dr. Jenner nodded. "There was one major scar and multiple smaller ones, ones that she probably doesn't even notice anymore. And they were clean, which means they were bad enough for her to go to a hospital, and I can guarantee that's something she probably hesitated to do. She didn't want me to help her with her recent wound. I'm sure there are more, if she let anyone see. Which she won't."
Rick just heaved a great sigh. "Well, shit."
Dr. Jenner gave a wry grin. "You seem to care about her, for only knowing her for a couple days."
Rick shrugged. "This world we're in right now…everything's faster. And slower, somehow, at the same time. There's no more normal."
"True."
Rick knew the conversation had to end. " Well, I should probably get back to the group. We have a lot more to talk about, you know."
Jenner looked at him. "I know."
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