“Well, whoever did this missed everything vital,” Dr. Green said to me sternly, looking at me over the top of her glasses. “You’re lucky, Ms. Chen. Whoever did this either didn’t intend to kill you or had really bad aim. Either way, you should be thankful. You’re also damn lucky you made it here in one piece. That’s what ambulances are for, you know.” Thankful, she said. Me with my thirteen stitches. I should be thankful. Well, considering how much Vicodin was pumping through my veins, I was pretty damn thankful. I was feeling no pain, and I was ready to go home. I had the note safely in my pocket, and I resolved not to mention it to anyone.
“Well, thanks Groctor Deen,” I said, frowning. That didn’t sound right for some reason. I struggled to sit up in bed, but she gently pushed me back.
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Dr. Green, who was, at most, ten years older than me, asked in a mock-motherly voice. Her streaked brown hair was pulled back in a bun and her face was devoid of makeup. Still, she had a wholesome look that was appealing.
“Home?” I said, making it more a question than a statement. Dr. Green started shaking her head before I could even squeeze that one word out.
“I’m keeping you overnight for observations. Your family is here. I’ll let them in two by two.” Just like Noah, I thought, but wisely kept that to myself. Dr. Green turned around and marched out the door. A minute later, my parents were hurrying in.
“Beezus!” My mother said in a voice loud enough to mortify me. Thankfully, I was in a single so no one could hear her besides me and my father. “What happened? You scared us to death. I told you you should have quit your job.” The whole time she’s talking, my mother fussed with my blankets, twitching them this way and that.