Page 97 of Hating the Boss

“Ms. Atkinson,” he said coaxingly, “I’m Dr. Pratt. I need you to focus on taking a deep breath for me. Can you do that?”

I nodded and gathered every bit of strength I had to take in a deep breath through my nose because I felt like that might hurt slightly less than breathing through my mouth. I closed my eyes and breathed it out.

“Good. Now, again,” said the doctor.

I did as he said, breathing again through my nose and out again. I could hear the frantic beeping of the monitor beside me begin to slow to a steady rhythm.

“You’re safe here, Ms. Atkinson,” said the doctor.

My eyes fluttered open and I looked up at him, his cool blue eyes steady. He had a small, warm smile that comforted me.

I was safe.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“The police have filled me in on what transpired today. That must have been frightening,” he said, his brows tipping up in concern.

I nodded.

“Based on what they told me, we ran some tests while you were sleeping.”

I braced myself for the worst.

“Your throat got the brunt of the attack. You’ll experience some severe bruising and quite a bit of swelling, but we will get you on some pain medicine and ice packs to help.”

I nodded quickly, wanting him to get to the most important part.

“Nothing was broken, but your body may be sore from the attack. Some aches and pains here and there, especially in your back.”

“The baby…” I said, my voice cracking.

“Yes, the officers made me aware of your pregnancy. You’re not very far along. Probably about six weeks, based on the ultrasound.”

“Is it…is the baby…okay?” I felt a warm tear stream down my face.

“Oh, yes,” said the doctor with an adamant nod. “You poor thing. Yes! The baby is just fine!”

I felt a flood of relief wash over me as more tears began to fall.

“I probably should have started with that, huh?” he asked with a nervous chuckle.

I couldn’t help but laugh through a sob that struggled to escape my sore throat.

“There were no internal injuries that pose any risk to the baby. I can tell you fought hard to protect your child,” he said.

“I did,” I said softly, looking up at him.

He placed his hand on my shoulder.

“You’re already one hell of a mother.”

His words made my heart swell as I smiled up at him through my tears.

“Now, the nurse will be back in with those pain meds and ice wrap for your neck. You’re in good hands, Ms. Atkinson.” He turned for the door.

“Is there anyone here?” I asked before he slipped out. “Anyone here for me?”

“Yes, there are quite a few visitors in the waiting area from what the front desk has told me.” He smiled.