We were in an expensive-looking bathroom that was connected to the infirmary. It had a standing shower with glass doors, dual shower heads, and plenty of space for multiple people. Blood dripped around me as I stood in front of the shower while Rhett fretted around the room looking for scissors. He’d decided that since I couldn’t lift my arms to remove my shirt, he would cut it off. I didn’t like the prospect, but didn’t want to open more of my wounds.
“Aha!” He pulled scissors out of the bathroom cabinet. Rhett stood behind me and slid the scissors between the collar of my shirt and my neck and started snipping. I could’ve died from embarrassment. Never had I been so vulnerable, and now I was having my clothes stripped from me.
The scissors made quick work on my shirt, and soon my back
