Chasing Melody

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Dear Journal,

If you ever want to know who truly cares about you just get sent to the infirmary for a few days. The people who care for you will be there by your side.

Melody Hunter

In the last two days, Dr. Graham has changed my bandages four times. She seems like a nice lady but it appears she is a good friend of my mother. She told me that both my parents have been in this very room more times than she can remember. Also, I was born in this very room. Not sure if I should be amazed or horrified with that one.

Chase has been here with me when he isn’t out doing god knows what under the alphas orders. He has been by my side every time that I wake up from my induced sleep. That is all I have been doing sleep, waking up, and then being put right back to sleep.

According to Dr. Graham when she is trying to clean out my wound or get anywhere near it I tend to get very fussy, in her terms.

Well duh! My body is not used to being in pain let alone throbbing in it. My parents, more like my mother, protected me from everything, corner of tables included, might as well have had my room bubbled wrapped the way she protected me.

Sinking further into the mattress my butt starts throbbing, it's tired of being sat on for the past forty-eight hours.

“Dr. Graham,” she always seems to be within earshot of me or maybe it’s her super heighten hearing that allows her to hear when I have barely moved.

The door swings open as Dr. Graham waltz in with her white coat flapping behind her.

“Yes, we have two wounded,” she says, to no one I can see. “No, the alpha's daughter will be out very soon.” I stare at her as she gracefully walks around me grabbing my clipboard with all my information from the side table.

“Hmm,” she looks over the paperwork and flips through the pages. I stare at her face trying to read anything she might give away. Her composure is solid as a rock if there is something wrong she gives nothing away.

“Umm, Dr. Graham,” I stare at her but her brown eyes never waver away from the paper.

“You called?” She answers but her eyes stay on the clipboard.

“I did.” Still nothing, “is there something on that paper that I should be worried about?” I blurt out in annoyance.

She pushes the clipboard against her chest covering its contents from me. “What did you need sweetie?”

I need to know why you’re acting so strangely!

“Is there any way that I might be able to get up and pee?” The urge to go to the bathroom hits me. That feeling when you had to go earlier but forgot and then the urge returns with a vengeance.

“Yes, you can go to the bathroom.” She gives me a sweet smile, “I’ll give you some privacy. Call me if you need anything.”

“Sure,” with that she walks out of my room. Looking down at myself I notice that I am no longer wearing my party clothes. I am wearing some light green cotton pajama bottoms and a white tee shirt.

“I didn’t change myself. Who changed me?” Don’t dwell on this or you’re going to traumatize yourself.

Taking a deep breath I push the thought to the back of my mind and push the cover away from me. Refusing to look at my cut I feel it as I move my body trying to maneuver out of bed.

The pain is not as bad as I thought it would be. It’s more of a stinging sensation than anything else. Pushing myself forward I get out of bed and into the bathroom. Once I am done I decide to brush my teeth and comb out my hair that is smooth for being uncombed for two days. Once I finish up I make my way back into my room where someone is occupying the chair next to my bed.

“Knocking is a sign of manners or your mother never taught you that?” I roll my eyes and head back to my bed. His eyebrows are scrunch together and the way his knuckles bulge out are signs that he is not angry but infuriated. “Hey,” I lay on my side away from my wound and stare deep into his eyes.

“If your mother would just let me watch over you no one would be able to come in through the window!” He growls.

“My mother doesn’t let you watch over me?” I ask sitting up finally figuring out that there is no comfortable position to lay in.

“No, she is set on having me do rounds around the pack territory,” he sighs and sinks into the seat. I take a better look at him.

The dark bags under his eyes almost seem like bruises. His heavy eyelids are a huge sign of the fight that he is currently dealing with. It seems as if Chase as been hiding away from the sun as his pale face needs some vitamin D. Chase needs to rest but he is under so much stress that it seems like that is not going to happen soon.

“You look exhausted,” I state the obvious as he runs his fingers through his unkempt hair.

“Well you’re looking mighty rested,” he smirks at me. How does he even make smirk seem like so much work?

“I would trade you places if it were possible,” I say meekly at him.

“You would?” This makes him sit up and lean closer towards me. “Why? You have everything!”

On an impulse, I lean closer to him our faces inches away from each other. The stinging of my injury is nothing compared to have someone understand me.

“Everything but my freedom,” I breathe out. There is a gleam of sadness in his eyes.

“You’re miserable,” he breathes out.

“More than anyone knows,” I confess and suddenly my chest feels heavy with emotion.

“Then let’s do something that will give you a little taste of freedom.” With this initiative, Chase gets to his feet. “Give me an hour,” his eyes dart to the door and then back to me.

“An hour for what?” He presses his index finger against his lips. He seems to stop breathing for a moment as his eyes stay glued to the door.

“Dr. Graham is going to discharge you in a few minutes.” His head tilts to the side as if he were listening to what Dr. Graham was saying. “I should go. But be ready I’ll get you in an hour,” he jumps out of his seat and runs to the window, “on the dot.”

“Chase, what has gotten into you,” his energetic demeanor rubs off and my heart starts racing. The door swings open and Dr. Graham walks in my eyes dart to the window but Chase is gone.

“Okay sweetie it appears as if your wound is healing up nicely and there appears to be no need for you to stay in this room any longer.”

The news almost makes me burst at the seams. The glee that fills me makes me swing my legs off the bed and get up quickly. The pain on my side jolts me as a hiss escapes me.

“But I will be here if you need anything. I suggest two Advil’s at night and if you feel a fever come on I want you back here as soon as possible.” Dr. Graham crosses her arms across her chest as I stare at her. She wants her point to be made clear.

Straightening up I salute her, “Yes ma’am!” Dr. Graham rolls her eyes as she chuckles.

“Go on to your mother’s office I believe she wants to talk to you.” I take a deep breath and nod.

“Thank you.” My feet slip into the slippers that lay by the side of my bed and I walk out. The infirmary is filled with people. The long hall is filled with beds, side by side. Nurses checking their patient's vitals as I rush past them all.

I make my way through the hall as quickly as possible. The infirmary is on the bottom level of the packhouse. Running upstairs I get to the ground level where many of the pack members are either chatting with each other or watching television.

I give them a small smile and wave as I continue on the stairs. My mother’s office is on the second level of the house. The hallway is empty which makes it even more nerve-wracking. Her door is at the end of the hall. My steps are not as quick as they were before now they are more calculated as if measuring every step so the lion doesn’t catch wind of the prey that’s close by.

Reaching the door I swallow down and rub my hand on my pajama bottoms trying to wipe off the sweat. Clutching my fist I give three quick knocks on her door.

A huge part of me wishes that she is not there. Maybe she didn’t hear me?

“Come in Melody,” her voice reaches me.

Fat chance!

Taking a deep breath my hand grips the door handle and twists it open. My mother is behind her desk a pen in her hand as she is scrawling down notes on her paper. Her eyes lift to me and her pen drops.

“Dr. Graham said you wanted to see me?” The words are a mere whisper. I hate how nervous she makes me.

“Yes, I did. Come in and close the door.” Holy fuck I’m in the lion's den and there’s no way out.

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