Chapter 5

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“How do you feel today little one?” A stout old man with a stethoscope hung around his neck sat on the chair right beside me. I stared at my mother. Mother’s pencil lined brows moved, hinting what her voice couldn’t say. I soon crossed my legs. Throwing a sheet over me was impossible. The slightest move caused pain. I couldn’t change my lying position promptly. My mother soon threw the quilt over me.
Although she had bothered herself few minutes ago to comb my messy hair she once again stroked my hair and gave a brief smile. How I yearned to make it a long one, only if she knew how beautiful she was with a broad smile.
“Let me check this young lady” The doctor cleared his throat. Probably he was in a hurry and had no time to waste staring at a puzzled child like me. His beefy hands moved towards my chest and I backed for a moment. His disapproval stare was shot at me over the oval spectacle he was wearing. For some reason I disliked him, he looked more than a doctor. His inquisitive eyes tried to lock mine as he checked my pulse. I failed to swim out from the pool of his questioning gaze. With that excuse he tried to dig what was hidden inside me without my very own knowledge. But then the discomfort I felt doubled in volumes. I looked at my mother. Her expressive eyes were narrowed as if she was expecting to hear a bad news.
The man beside me was demanding my attention. Unwillingly I stared back at him. His brows furrowed wrinkling his forehead. His mouth slightly twitched causing more wrinkles to appear in his hanging cheeks. It reminded me of Horton from Dr. Seuss’ “Horton hears a who”. Only thing was that this man didn’t look friendly.
“Ouch!” I jumped on my seat as he tried to squeeze and fold my fingers. The pain was sever that it caused tears to sprang.

“It will take time to heal” he said gradually leaving my hand. I wished if I could snatch it back before he thought of releasing his grip. He took a deep breath before he looked at mother.

“She is fine, you don’t have to worry, when are you returning back Beth?” I shrugged not knowing the exact answer. He should have asked it from my mother instead, I thought angrily. He chuckled
.
“We haven’t decided yet Doctor, probably in a week,” mother said. Her short hair dangled as she replied. The doctor ‘Whoever’ nodded with deep thoughts. I felt unease. Instead of looking at him I looked at the white bandage around my left hand which has by now changed its color. Only if I could remove this out of my hand, I thought being irritable. The pain I felt was bearable yet the itchiness I had all over my right hand was unbearable. Suddenly I felt like borrowing a thin stick or an iron string, insert it through the gap between the plaster of Paris and my hand and scratch until the need was satisfied.

“Do you miss your Granny?” The doctor asked. I shook my head for there was no reason for me to mourn for my grandma. I knew her not so why should I miss her now?

“Was it the first time you’ve been here?”
“Yes, this was the first time” my mother replied.
“I see” he nodded once again.
“Do you feel hungry more often Beth?” my lips went crooked as I heard the question. I felt hungry always. ‘You can feed ten Somalian children with what Beth eats mother’ Chariot’s mockery echoed in my ears. My gaze rested at my mother yet she was busy nodding her head to the doctor.
“Can you remember what happened before you got that with you child?” He pointed at my injured arm. Nothing but the monstrous smile of my cousin crossed my mind. What would happen if I told it was all because of him? Will anyone believe me? Mother would bark at me for blaming her nephew. She liked him; she liked everyone other than me.

I took a deep breath. Nobody would believe me. I didn’t want to be called a liar. I shook my head sideways. Pretending I know nothing would save my day. The man before me furrowed his thick brows. He briskly rubbed his forehead.
“Does she have a peaceful sleep at night?” he asked my mother. This time she lost her voice and I wanted to say yes. The long silence had made the doctor assume his own answer. He nodded his head. I did not understand why he had to be so serious. Perhaps my mother wanted him to prescribe some sleeping pills for me so that I wouldn’t disturb others by mourning at night. What was she expecting, a child with broken arm to smile every time when her wounds ache?
Finally giving me the opportunity to breathe peacefully the plump man stood on his big feet. He smiled at me curtly.

“See you young lady! You are perfectly all right. But don’t tire your arm,” he was kind. I nodded gulping the bad thoughts I had for him. He wasn’t bad at all. It was his serious looks that made me wanting to hide under the covers. As soon as they left the room I threw the quilt away and jumped on the wooden floor, promptly following the advice the doctor just gave.
“There’s nothing to worry, she’s a growing child. The fall might have frightened her…no no, nonsense, she’s perfectly normal” I heard the doctor’s voice.
My lips parted to a broad smile. I waited until their voices faded. In fact I was counting. I didn’t want to keep myself locked anymore. Being caged in was painful than carrying an injured arm.
“Stay in your room! ” peeking in to the room through the doorway my mother warned. My brows went up wondering how quickly she reads my mind; she had sensed my thoughts even before they were conceived. ‘I thought you went,” I muttered alone walking to the door. I could hear their fading voices from the corridor. A wicked smile approached me as I slipped through the doorway to the opposite direction. It might take some time for mother to return and I can walk back to the room soon, I promised myself

The Buried TruthI’m Possible

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