Behind The Mask (Nurses Book 2) (9 page)

I’m in deep with this woman, and I barely even know her. But after reading everything I did last night, I feel a kinship with her. As if we are meant to cross paths in each other’s lives, to try to better each other and ourselves. She doesn’t know it yet, but we’re going to be good friends. But not in a creepy, stalker-y way, but in a true, lasting friendship way.

The drive into work actually has me singing along to the radio. Something I used to love doing but haven’t in so long. Music can be such a cathartic thing because there is something for everyone. Whenever you need life’s answers, just cut on the radio and start flipping through the stations and it will come to you. It always does, you just have to be open enough to receive the answer.

Pulling into a spot, I look over and see Martin getting out of his truck. In a weird way, I get excited to see him because he has this soothing effect on me. Like seeing my parents’, I know  there is a level of caring that nobody else has for me. This is Martin, he cares about people. For that, I’m appreciative because it’s nice to have someone care outside of Olivia, Damian, and Jack.

“Good morning, Cori. I take it you are adjusting well here?” The warmth that radiates off this man envelopes me and gives me a small piece of serenity.

“Yes, so far I’m liking it here. Allyn keeps me on my toes, but I gotta get my chops busted by someone.” I keep my head down as we walk into the rehab, force of habit and all, I guess. Martin has never made me feel different with the scars on my face. He hasn’t stared or looked at me with any pity. Maybe that’s what I like about him so much.

“Allyn, that man is a character. Good guy, though, actually one of the best I know. But I told you, we’re like a small family here, and we take care of our own. You, now, are one of our own, so if you ever need one of us you sound the alarm, and we all come running.”

Just the thought of having people who seem to want to look out for me has the ice around my heart melting some. I never expected this when I started working here. I pictured in my head that this place is just a job, but now I see it’s more. It does seem to have a more family vibe to it, I guess because the residents are longtime residents and they are not acutely sick. So they’re not going to the hospital daily, compared to places like retirement homes where doctors roam the halls and patients are bussed out in ambulances daily. That’s the kind of place I worked when I was fresh out of nursing school, and at the time, the amount of death I saw made the prison a welcoming change until I realized that inmates kill each other daily.

Those places have residents with one foot in the grave and the other on a block of ice just ready to slip up. Here, besides yesterday, it seems that most of them are not on death's door. Thank goodness for that because death was all around me at the prison.

Getting inside I run into Sam, who is her normal chipper self. I hate it, but it works for her. She’s incredibly nice and has been nothing but helpful to me.

“How’s it going?” she asks in her overly enthusiastic voice and wide toothy smile. It grates on my nerves, but the residents like her and she has been friendly towards me.

“It’s going, how are you?” I try to add as much bubble to my voice as hers. It doesn’t work, I end up sounding like an over pepped cheerleader.

“Oh you know, always a different day to make good choices
.” Gag me.
“Guess who came out of his room finally? Knight, I was shocked, to say the least. But man, that guy is a flirt! The things he said to me would make an old lady blush!” With that little nugget of information, she bounces off in her bubbly, ponytail swinging kind of way.

Wait, what? That man is pompous and arrogant, I certainly wouldn’t classify his ass as a flirt, well he must not want to flirt with me.

I can’t focus on that now, I need to focus on my upcoming work day. I don’t care whether that pompous asshole is a flirt. But walking into the nurse’s station, I keep thinking about it. He didn’t flirt with me unless he has a real shitty way of showing it. He just was crude to me. My brain is screaming at me to stop thinking about him. He isn’t worth it, even if we were interested in each other it could never work. Having someone touch me makes me want to vomit. Hell, even thinking about it has my stomach doing somersaults, and sweat drips down my spine to my butt crack.

Not watching where I’m going and total clumsiness has me running straight into the med cart and falling. It’s one of those comedic relief moments you see on TV. I laugh while holding my hip because ow that shit hurt. But this laughing isn’t a normal chuckle, no this is that insane, maniacal laugh that makes it seem like I truly am insane. In my head, I know that here on the floor laughing like a banshee isn’t normal, but I’ve never been normal. The scars across my lips hurt because they are pulling tight. Laughing isn’t something I normally do, so this is a new thing for my new face.

“What the hell are you doing?” Gage’s gruff voice rings out behind me.

“What does it look like? I fell down, hurt myself, and now I’m laughing because this is the shit that I do. I fall down and I laugh.”

“Need help up?”

“Not from you. I’m good.” Not trying to be a bitch, I just don’t want to deal with him right now, not when my heart is light from laughing.

When I look at him, he looks defeated, as if someone kicked him in the gut. I don’t know why he has this wounded puppy dog look on his face. Good, serves the pompous ass right, he should be wounded, and he should feel remorse for the way he acted.
You don’t mean that, Cori. Stop being a bitch, that’s not you.
Stupid inner voice, always trying to be the voice of reason.

“Don’t mean to be a bitch, the words just fall out sometimes.” There, that should be a good enough apology.

“It’s okay, you deserve to be a bitch to me. I was nasty to you yesterday when all you wanted to do was help me. I should be apologizing to you. But I have more jokes for you if you need them.”

Wait, was that an apology? I don’t know how I feel about it if it was. He looks sheepishly at me as if he expects me to respond to him. I don’t quite know what to say.

“Yeah, you were a dick yesterday.” There we go.

“I have a habit of being that way, just my sunny disposition I guess.”

You could say that again. But even though he apologized, doesn’t mean I will be going out of my way to talk to him unless it is his recovery related. I don’t need his kind of attitude in my life, whether he tells me jokes or not.

Getting up and dusting myself off, I walk away leaving his words just hanging in the air. Maybe he will rethink how much of a dick he really is when he sees that he doesn’t affect me. Probably not, but the hope is there. 

At lunch time, Gage sees me sitting and eating with Allyn, and wheels himself over. The residents have the option of having lunch brought to their rooms or to the day room. Allyn being Mr. Social seems to always pick the day room, so I figured I would sit with him and eat.

“Can I sit with you guys?” His husky voice seems unsure. Definitely not a good sound for him. A man like him should exude confidence.

I look at Allyn who nods at Gage. I put my head down and finish my meal. Gage tries to make small talk with us, but Allyn is the only one who really answers. When Allyn starts telling old stories of him and his beloved wife, CC, I excuse myself. I still have fifteen minutes of lunch left, but Allyn can talk forever and I wanted to escape.

Later in the day, Gage came up to tell me how cold that was for me to “throw him to the gossip wolves.” I giggle because he sees that, that is exactly what I had done.

“Payback is coming for you, beautiful. Oh and you should laugh more, it’s a beautiful sound.” Then he wheels off, leaving me at a loss for words. I guess Sam was right, he really is a flirt. Just never expected that he would direct it towards me.

Work flies by in the blink of an eye, and now I get to face another challenge. I used to have blonde in my hair, and I still do, but these roots are out of this world! I haven’t been to the hairdresser since before the riot, so today is the day that I go back. I have wanted to so many times, but the thought of someone putting their hands on me scares the living daylights out of me. Plus, when you sit in that chair and put the cape on, you are essentially locked in. I don’t want to feel locked in, ever again.

Driving over to my hairdresser, a panic starts to set in. I’m trying to remember all the breathing exercises that the shrinks tried to teach me. My anxiety is through the roof by the time I pull up. Thankfully when I called ahead they said they had no other appointments during my time. I don’t know how I would feel if a man came in during that time.

Walking in, I see that it is only me and two other employees, and I breathe a sigh of relief. My palms are sweating and my fingers are shaky, and I’m pretty sure that as I sit here in the little waiting area that they can hear my knees knocking together. Amanda has been doing my hair for years and the owner, Dawn, is a somewhat close friend. She started nursing school with me but decided it wasn’t for her after her first semester.

“Cori, I’m so glad to see you, it’s been so long. You ready?” Amanda stands in front of me with one side of her head shaved and purple streaks going throughout. I wish I had the balls to do something big like that, but I just stick with my blonde and black.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Ok, come on back, let’s get your hair washed.”

On shaky knees, I follow her back to the chair. Sitting down and putting my head into the wash basin, the sounds of the salon are amplified. As soon as the water is on they become muffled, but the second she puts her fingers into my hair, my skin starts to crawl. Tears spring to my eyes, my breathing comes out in rapid puffs, and my body shakes uncontrollably.

“Stop, Stop!” I scream out, startling Amanda.

“Cori, what’s wrong?” Amanda knows my story, she has seen the news, but she has never outright asked me about it. For that, I love her for it. So she doesn’t seem so shocked that I’m freaking out.

“Just stop, I can’t do this!” I cry, tears streaming down my face. I don’t like that I can’t see my surroundings because my head is back. I don’t like that someone else’s hands are in my hair. I just don’t like this.

“Okay, it’s okay. I’m going to cut off the water. But I need you to breathe with me. Think you can?”

I only give her a barely noticeable nod, which probably looks even weirder because I’m shaking so violently. My stomach and back hurts from the tension and shaking.

Once she cuts off the water, I spring up, hair dripping to look around me. Nobody has entered the salon, but I’m still panicking. My clothes are wet and clinging to me now, and I’m starting to get cold.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Grabbing twenty dollars out of my pocket, I place it on the seat, grab my purse, and run out. I cry all the way home. I cry in the shower, and I cry myself to sleep.

When the nightmares come, they are so real. I can feel their hands all over me. Groping, pushing, pulling and prodding my body; all I can feel are hands. Even the smell is the same. That dank, musty air of a prison. Even though we were in a control room of sorts, the air is still the same. The walls are still a cold concrete, the floors exactly the same.

I can feel Xavier, even if I can’t see him. He consumes the air around me, hell, he consumes me. Even while dead he is at the forefront of my mind, ruining everything. Even beyond the shit hole grave he’s in, he controls my life. He’s under my skin in every way.

Waking up soaked in sweat, a scream escapes my lips, and a raging headache sits by my temples. When will all of this stop? When will I become normal? These are the questions hanging around in my mind as I get up to change my sheets. I find myself staring at my soaked sheets so the tears don’t fall. My life has been taken over by that asshole, and I am sick of it, it’s making me angry. I’m angry at my situation, angry at myself really for letting my situation get so out of my control. I just want one good night of sleep, one night of peace, and one night of not seeing his cold eyes. Is that too much to ask for? I don’t think so, but maybe I am asking too much.