“You don’t care about me do you?”
His question got my head spun around to face him looking away from the physician who was dressing my wound. The wound I had sustained from fighting with Franco.
He was almost done with it, so he hastened up with the treatment.
“What do you mean?”
“You went out that night, not a f*****g care how I would’ve felt if something happened to you.” His voice came out with a low growl.
I looked away from him, removing my hand from the physician’s grip.
“I’m almost done. You shouldn’t leave it without having it treated. It might get infected.”
“You should leave,” I uttered quietly.
“But..”
“You heard me. Leave.”
He sighed and stood up with the bag he came with. He bow and turned to walk out through the door.
I rolled down the sleeve to cover the wo
