I watch the nurse as she carefully injects the local anaesthetic into my hand. Her touch is so gentle and nurturing that it makes me wonder how someone with such a caring touch ended up patching up killers. She doesn’t speak or look at me as she begins sewing the gash in my right hand. She works meticulously, focusing intently on the task. She looks like she’s in her own little bubble, probably doing her best to try and forget where she is and who she is helping.
I have nothing against hospitals. Been in and out of them enough times that they start to feel like taking a trip to the grocery store, but the clinic set up by The Tournament is one I loathe. It’s not the sterile environment or the bright lights that bother me, and unlike most clinics, it’s actually incredibly well-furnished wit
