From the way it depressed in the middle, it had to be agony. Hell, I’d broken my ankle when I was fourteen, and I still remembered the pain.
“I need to feed my cat.”
Blinking, I tried to process what she’d just said. “You need to feed your cat?”
With no expression on her face, just her eyes boring into me, she replied, “My pussy.”
“I see. Is your cat at home?”
“Yes.”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I nodded. “I could go and feed it for you, but you need to stay calm and let them fix you up.”
“My pussy needs to be cuddled.”
I couldn’t stop the visible shudder that went through me at the possibility she was talking about her pussy. At this stage, it probably had fangs and attacked whatever came near it.
Injecting as much sympathy and understanding into my voice as possible, I said, “We can arrange for that. All we ask is that you allow the doctors to treat you for your injuries and remain calm.”
Looking down at her body for emphasis, she had the audacity to raise an eyebrow at me. “I am calm. I’m not screaming or shouting. I’m merely requesting that you care for my cat.”
“You’ve been very agitated since you arrived, but if you stay like this, we can arrange to get your cat the care you want it to have.”
Clenching her teeth tightly together, she hissed, “Because of my cat.”
“I’ll call in and get someone to feed it and cuddle it.” I held my hands up in front of me. “I’m sorry that you’re going through so much.”
There, that was nice, and hopefully she’d appreciate the sympathy.
Big mistake. Instead of relaxing like I’d assumed, she glared at me. “You arrested my boyfriend.”
“Because you reported that he was hitting you and smashing up your home.”
Then, she did something truly unexpected. She threw her head back and burst out laughing. “He didn’t do that. I did that.”
“You put the holes in your walls?” I clarified.
“Of course.”
“So, what happened to your arm?”
Smiling smugly at me, she sang, “I broke it hitting him on the head.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake!
Dropping my head back to look up at the ceiling, I counted to five before looking back down at her. “Why did you call it in?”
Shrugging her shoulder as much as she could, she said seriously, “Foreplay.”
And this, folks, is the shit we look forward to every day.
Just then, the doctor came back with a tray in his hand that had two syringes in it and stopped when he saw how calm she was.
“I’d still give it to her if I was you,” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth. “I’d also request a psych eval after her arm’s fixed up.”
When the doctor glared at me as I advised him, I said solemnly, “Trust me, you’ll thank me for it.”
“What about my pussy?” she snapped.