Surge (73 page)

“Did you dress properly?” Akio inquires.

Olivia looks down, but nods her head. What the hell does he mean for her to
‘dress properly
?’
She looks fine in her loose braid, boots and full leather gear, and looks no different to me than any other day. It’s when Akio orders her to remove her jacket that I see the difference and have to almost shove my eyeballs back into their respective sockets. She’s completely topless with the exception of what has to be six, tightly wrapped ace bandages binding her breasts. The scarring is completely overlooked since I’m gaping at her chest, come on a guy, of course I immediately zoned in on those babies.

Even with the layers of fabric restricting them, you can still see that there’s a larger cup size being smothered down to a
‘B’
because of the large amount of cleavage. I immediately remove my eyes from the deep valley between her breasts before I blow my load like an untouched virgin or have to retreat to the bathroom for a quick intermission. Looking up, I see that Olivia’s head is still aimed down and her shoulders are tense. That deflates my arousal in .05 seconds. What the fuck is wrong with me? I know what she’s been through, and here I am staring at her like she’s putting it out there willingly for all to see, when it’s obvious that Olivia wishes she were anywhere but here right now.

“That’s not properly,” Akio replies. “It’s squeezing your ribs, making it impossible to take a full breath, and I need cleared access to your chest so I can monitor your lungs. They still sound off.” Olivia further hunches her shoulders and wraps shaking arms around her scarred torso, so I step forward before this professional asshole makes her have a flashback or an anxiety attack.

“Can she wear a loose t-shirt?” I propose. Three out of the four sets of eyes train on me before I continue. “She’s small and if she put one of mine on, it’ll be like a gownie on her.”

Olivia finally peeks up through her soot-like lashes to look at Akio hopefully. That hopeful expression burns into my retina and makes me want to go cover her with four blankets if it made her happy. I look over to the man running this show to see his answer to such a simple request. Akio rubs a hand over his eyes before adjusting his glasses.

“Fine, just cut it up the back so it can be removed if necessary,” he concedes. I’m already stripping off my t-shirt when he says,
‘fine,’
but pause to stare at him.

“What do you mean,
‘if necessary’
?” I demand and feel my blood pressure rise with panic fueled indignation. “You said that she’ll be fine. Are you confident enough to ensure her safety today, or should we wait?”

“It’s just a precaution,” he answers. “Now hurry up before we lose the light.”

Glaring because I don’t care much for his tone nor his lack of reassurance, I finally strip the rest of my shirt off but leave on the wife beater that I’ve since added to my daily dressing routine after seeing it set off one of Olivia’s triggers. Walking over to the tray of equipment, I snatch the medical scissors and cut the collar before tearing the rest of the shirt Hulk Hogan style. After replacing the scissors to their appointed spot, I turn to face Olivia.

“Hold your arms out,” I tell her softly. Raising her head up to meet my eyes, she unwraps one arm at a time and slips them through the sleeves. “Do you want Whitney to unwrap you, or can I do it?” Olivia holds my eyes, looks over her shoulder and jerks her chin for me to do it. I restrain the urge to fist pump, and concentrate on the task. “Hold the front of your shirt so it doesn’t slip. And Cory, block the door, we don’t need any uninvited gawpers.”

Once Olivia has hold of the shirt front, Cory’s positioned at the doorway with his arms crossed and expression stoic, I observe the wrappings. They’re the velcro style, so I begin by peeling back the outermost edge to detach it. After the adhesive side is free, I release it and pull the stretchy part on her back as opposed to reaching in and unravelling it by hand. It may be a slow process, but I don’t want to inadvertently cop a feel and set her off on a panic attack, which I have a new respect for after experiencing one myself.

And I can see that my efforts are appreciated when Olivia’s previously tense shoulders ease as she realizes that my hands will remain at her back the whole time. As the ace bandages come off, it reveals more and more of her skin, which means that more and more of her scars are uncovered. And no, I don’t feel horny at the view of her tiny waist and naked back, I feel fucking pissed. I have to bite my tongue from cursing out loud as I get my first real peek at the abused flesh. How the fuck anyone could do this to someone else, especially one as small as my beautiful girl, is completely baffling. But it shows the ugly side of human nature that we tend to ignore or pretend doesn’t exist until it smacks us in the face with a hit close to home, like I’m witnessing right now.

There are long, crisscrossing scars that vary from an inch to two inches in thickness, going from her shoulders to where some disappear underneath the waistband of her leather leggings. I’m guessing that most of those were from a whip, but some of the shorter ones have a shape added to the end that I can’t identify. Mixed in various places are circular, triangular and u-shaped burns, some of which are raised or wrinkled, and others that are still an angry red color.

As I’m removing the last of the seven bandages, I notice an irregular scar on her top right shoulder blade. I can’t even guess as to what caused it, but it’s like a long strip of skin was torn from her shoulder. I know that I’ll have to ask her about all of these, and the ones I’ve seen on her torso, so after I set the final bandage aside, I make a mental note to do so as soon as possible.

“All done,” I say and collect the pile of fabric.

I fold the ace bandages neatly and set them beside Olivia’s coat on the kitchen table. Eventually I’ll convince her that she doesn’t need to wear them at all, but for right now, I’ll let them remain as another piece to her armor. Once they’re set down, I return to take up my position at the table. Whitney’s on standby near the tray, waiting for further instructions, and Akio’s already begun uncovering the tube when I clasp Olivia’s hand in mine.

She gives me a light squeeze, I’m assuming it’s to reassure me, since her expression doesn’t reveal one ounce of fear. Olivia’s face is filled with impatience and acceptance, just waiting for this to be over and done with already. I’m certain that she’s experienced much worse than this, but I haven’t, so my healthy amount of fear is more than sufficient for the two of us.

“It’s time, Jared,” Akio states.

Akio’s already removed the gauze and cleaned the surrounding area free of the creams, so he’s waiting for me to hold her down. I give a quick nod to him before leaning down to kiss her forehead. Obviously, I want more than a brotherly peck, but I’ll take anything I can get for now. Keeping the contact brief, I pull back and meet her eyes.

“You ready?” I ask and my tough girl rolls her eyes. “Good, because I’m not.”

Her eyes widen slightly at my easy confession, but I leave it at that and wrap my arm around her waist to keep her still. Olivia’s arms are under mine, but she hooks them onto mine to keep from thrashing out accidentally. Once she’s restrained, Akio reaches for the tube.

We still don’t have prescription grade pain medication, so we’re operating with her not under the influence of anything. Which is the same as the last time, but this time around, we have crushed over the counter pills, that we found in a cabinet, and mixed the powder in a water bottle for her to drink down afterward. That, along with her cream, should give her some relief afterwards, but I fully intend to make her sleep as soon as she’s hydrated.

Turning my attention back to the surgery, I see that Akio has tweezers prying the skin apart as he slowly extracts the tubing. Olivia’s breathing has increased and her eyes are clenched shut, same as her jaw, so tightly that I fear she may crack her teeth. She may be tough, but this has to hurt like hell. Olivia isn’t even using my arm like a pincushion for her nails; instead they’re firmly digging into her own palms because she refuses to cause me any more pain.

Well fuck that, so long as she’s in pain, I want to be too. No matter how insignificant it may be when compared to hers, I want to go through it with her. Using my free left hand, I do some extracting of my own as I remove her nails from her palms, where four bloody crescent shapes have taken up residence. Olivia struggles to detach her hand from mine, but for the first and hopefully only time in my life, I use my strength to force to do something she doesn’t want to. I cling to her bloody hand, making her use my burned one to brace herself.

At first, I can feel Olivia forcing her fingers to lock straight so that they didn’t come in contact with my bandages, but as her pain increased, her tolerance level was breached and she clamped down on my scabbed skin with a vengeance. I could feel the sting as some of them tore away and reopened, but I ignored it. A slight sting wasn’t going to stop me from being there for Olivia and is nothing compared to having a piece of plastic slowly scrape along the inside of your inflamed throat.

When I look up, Akio’s still keeping his pace slow and steady. I can see that he’s removed several inches of the blood covered tube, so it’s more than half way out when Olivia starts choking. Her arms immediately start flailing to try and get to the obstruction, but Akio hisses at me to keep her still. I’m freaking the fuck out, and already planning where I’m burying Akio’s body, when he finally gets the rest of the tube out. Blood bubbles out from the wound, making me panic even more, so I ignore Akio’s orders to stay calm, you stay calm you murdering mother fucker!

Releasing my restraining arm from her waist, I slide up to where her head is laying, throw the measly pillow out of the way, and push my arm behind her neck. Using my right hand, I tilt her chin back to open the passageway. Seeing that she’s still struggling, I turn furious eyes on Akio.

“Do something, you incompetent fuck!” I shout at him.

“I was trying to, you bull headed, neurotic moron!” Akio retorts. If I weren’t so pissed off and panicked, I would have been taken aback. But seeing as I am those things, it makes me reach across the table, grip the Doc by his collar and shake him.

“Fix it now, or so help me god, I will reach into your stomach, pull out your intestines and strangle you with them,” I growl out. I feel his Adam’s apple bob up and down against the back of my hand, that’s still fisted in his shirt, as he gulps then nods his head.

“A-alright,” he says shakily. “B-but you have to l-let go so I can s-suction the airway.”

Letting go quickly, I turn my attention back to a wheezing Olivia. With each strangled breath she takes, blood trickles from the incision on her neck, and when she coughs, a puff of air speckled with red sprinkles her face like a mist of rain. Her eyes are wide and frightened when they meet mine, so I pat her hair back and hold her gaze.

“You’re going to be fine, I promise.”

Olivia just blinks at me, probably because if she were to move her head, then it would cut out what little air she’s getting. Cory looks just as frantic as I am, but he’s holding it together as he squeezes her hand. Whitney passes Akio of all things, a fucking turkey baster, which he takes as he pulls back the skin to Olivia’s incision and inserts it inside. I can hear a squishing noise and see blood start to fill up the clear tube. It’s not a lot, but it shouldn’t fucking be there to begin with. Diverting my eyes back to Olivia, I try to hide my panic and be strong for her, since I sure as hell can’t be strong enough for myself without an incentive.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see Whitney hold up a bowl for Akio to squeeze the excess blood into. I concentrate on the sound of Olivia’s breathing, it still sounds a little wet, but it’s better than it was. Akio does the same process twice more before Olivia stops choking on blood and is able to take a better breath. After one last baster to the neck, Akio thinks it’s cleared enough to stitch the outer incision, he says that the hole in her trachea will heal on its own, so the fucker better be right if he values his life.

Readying his stitching equipment, Akio removes Whitney’s hand from holding pressure on the wound so that he can work. There’s still a light stream of blood trickling down, but it’s nothing compared to how it was. Setting the needle to skin, Akio concentrates completely on his task.

There’s another neat little line of stitches being made only a couple of inches away from her last set that should be coming out in a few days. Right now, Olivia kind of looks like Sally from Tim Burton’s
The Nightmare Before Christmas
, but that’s a hell of a lot better than dead, so I can deal. Not to mention I could not care less about her external packaging’s scars, she’s beautiful regardless and it’s what’s inside that I really love about her. Her strong spirit, her attitude, her dry sense of humor, how she’ll tear into you if you piss her off, they are parts of the whole that make up my Olivia.

The twins were right, she does have fire and it’s the mark of a survivor.

<~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~
>