Chapter Twelve
We had plenty of morphine for all the patients, so I kept Raji doped up on it. Over the next few days, I explained some of what I’d done to her, but not everything. Then I told her what I’d done to her leg.
“Yes,” she said, “I noticed it was gone.”
The stitches on her thigh were healing nicely. I checked the rest of her wounds.
“One can,” she said as I injected another vial of the painkiller into her arm, “become addicted to that stuff.”
I nodded. “You probably will, but at some point we’ll run out of it, then you’ll shriek yourself silly until you’re clean.” I smiled and wiped her arm with alcohol—ethyl alcohol this time instead of whiskey. “Is that so bad?”
“Not so long as you have to stay here and enjoy the show.”
“How do you feel?”
“Like hell,” she said. “But you
