Micah makes a low growl. I try not to look at him, but his gaze is like a magnetic beam, pulling at me until I’m helpless to do anything but turn its way. The darkness of his eyes dance with the reflections of the overhead lights, blazing under their long lashes, holding me hypnotised.
I expected the anger but there’s something else hovering inside there, too. Not just aggravation because I’m opposing him.
My throat tightens. I tear my glance away before I can figure it out, the skin on my face tight as though it’s a size too small.
Why does it feel like I’m in the wrong when he’s the one who upset my life against my will? When he’s the one casually threatening to end my existence.
The doctor’s eyes are a watery blue, surrounding creases showing his age as he catches my gaze, his expression unchanging. “Do you have somewhere to go?”
“Home.” I close my eyes with the burst of relief. He’s taking me seriously. “I can stay at my father’s house.Myhouse. If I can just call him, he’ll send the money to organise my trip back there.”
Maybe he wouldn’t in the normal scheme of things but once I tell him what Micah threatened, I’m sure he wouldn’t turn his back on me.
Instead of answering, the doctor pulls a phone from one pocket and a pair of spectacles from another. He peers at the small screen through myopic eyes and reads aloud, “Age four, broken collarbone. Age seven, fractures of the fourth and fifth metacarpal. Age seven again, a greenstick fracture of the forearm. Age eight, ruptured eardrum.”
Micah makes that low rumble again, harsher this time, and I tune him out, furious at what the doctor is implying. “That’s not—"
“The diagnostic team noted on that last one that because of the remnant bruising on that side of the head, the injury likely occurred as the result of a severe blow, but it was several days before your guardian sought treatment.”
Micah strides over and snatches the phone from him, reading quickly through the same entries. The twisted fury on his face makes my hairs stand on end. I cup my elbows nervously, wishing the doctor made a better wall.
“No entries past that one,” the doctor continues as Micah relinquishes his device. “You’ve missed your Boostrix and Gardasil vaccines at age eleven and twelve and there’s no record of any routine check-ups since. Were you in the care of your father all this time?”
My face burns with shame at the accusation. The wildly wrong accusation. “Those are just childhood injuries. Everyone gets them.”
“They are. I expect I could go into any classroom in the country and find a similar spread of injuries. But I wouldn’t expect to find them all in one child.”
“I have a lot of male cousins.” My voice sounds shrill, defensive even to my ears. “Sometimes they played rough, that’s all.”
The doctor nods but won’t meet my gaze. “Do you have another place to stay?”
“That’s enough,” Micah warns, taking a step towards me. “There’s absolutely no way I’m letting you go back to him. You’re staying here.”
He sounds so firm that my heart beats at triple time at the thought of defying him.
I frown at my hands, rubbing the side where the bones still ache. Until the doctor said it, I didn’t even remember it being hurt. Not like the broken arm. Then, I had a cast that everyone in the class marked with their name or best wishes. I kept the photographs of it for years afterward. Reading the notes scrawled in felt pen had cheered me.
There’s a blank hole in my memory as to how I broke it in the first place. A hole that feels too dangerous to go scrabbling about in for clues.
“My friend, Marigold. I can stay with her.” I can’t but if I can get back to the airport, I can buy a ticket, and go home. Where I won’t be beaten despite what this doctor keeps insinuating.
“No, you bloody can’t.” Micah folds his arms across his chest, exuding menace. He directs his next words to the doctor. “Get on with the exam. I’m paying you to make sure she’s healthy, not to rearrange her life.”
“She’s scared.”
“I’m aware of that, doc. She just said as much while I was standing here, not even a metre away. If you’ve got a bible handy, I’ll swear on it that I’m not going to kill her. Now, can you get on with what I’m paying you for and quit raising her hopes?”
Watching my last chance dissolve, my pleading eyes return to the doctor. “You’re meant to help. I’m asking you for help.”
“And if I thought you were in any genuine danger here, I’d provide it.” He squeezes my upper arm, then turns aside to pack away his few pieces of equipment. “I’ll send a prescription through to the local pharmacy and they can deliver. Anything else?”
“Birth control,” I blurt. There’s no way I want to become pregnant by this man. “I want to go on the pill.”
“No.” Micah’s answer is firm, and the doctor’s mouth twists as he looks from him to me and back again.
I spring to my feet. “You can’t just refuse me treatment,” I say, but staring at Micah instead of the other useless,uselessman. “I’m only eighteen and I don’t want to become pregnant. I have the right to contraception.”
“No.”
