The Alignment Read Online Free Page A

been locked in a cage.
    Nurse Gilchrist looks as sickened as I feel. “Too bad she didn’t ask that of you yesterday,” she mutters, turning away. “I assume you got this cut in the crash? The one you caused? By driving like a reckless idiot?” Her words aren’t any less offensive spoken to my chart in her lap.
    “I’m surprised you don’t remember.” It’s pointless to try to hide the disgust in my voice. Every one of my fingernails could have just been ripped off and it would only begin to explain the degree of pounding irritation now alive in my brain.
    “I was a little distracted.” She hasn’t opened my chart but it’s still holding all her interest. She puts a hand to her mouth. Swallows hard.
    I toss my helmet on the chair and catch her annoyed glance when the back of the chair hits the wall with a thud. I lean against the exam table. She stands and reaches for the blood pressure cuff on the wall.
    “Just the stitches.”
    She drops her hand. Opens my chart, skims a few pages, closes it. “Okay.”
    There must be a note in there that says to leave me the hell alone.
    “How did you get the laceration? Was it the car accident?”
    I didn’t realize I’d have to break in a new nurse today. I should have asked for one of the regulars.
    “I’m only asking in case you need a tetanus shot.”
    “Just the stitches.” How many times am I going to have to say it?
    She presses her lips into a tight line.
    How did I not notice my own truck in the parking lot? My apathy will be the death of me if I don’t recover my focus. Maybe I need a change. I’ve been here what—ten years? Twelve? I can’t stay much longer. It seems a good time for a change of scenery. Putting that plan in action may prove to be a problem with my current state of lethargy and indifference though. It would be a hell of a lot easier just to lie in bed at night and wait for them to come for me. Get it over with. My thoughts make it seem so simple, but I know I could never allow them to win again.
    The silence hits me and I return to the present to find Liv Gilchrist’s blue eyes boring holes into mine.
    “What?” I ask, feeling as if there is an unanswered question hanging in the air between us.
    “Do you want to wait for the doctor or would you like me to give it a try?”
    “Usually one of the nurses does it,” I answer without thinking. Give it a try? Fuck. I’m probably better off doing it myself.
    The look on her face tells me she expected a different answer. Or she’s just been sentenced to the electric chair. “That would be me. But we don’t suture a head wound. We usually—”
    “Just do something.”
    Her pause feels twenty minutes long. “Lie down on the table and keep your eyes on the corner of the ceiling.”
    I slip out of my jacket and drop it on top of my helmet. As the paper on the table crinkles under my weight, it occurs to me this might be a bad position for me considering what I did to her car yesterday. She rummages through the drawers then abruptly exits the room. When she returns, she’s empty-handed. She leaves the door wide open. My discomfort in this closet is either obvious or contagious. She selects supplies from the drawers, and I realize she’s not going to fill the time by talking my ear off. With me captive on this table, she could really chew me out—or worse. Endless trivial details about children, friends, or boyfriends—she keeps it all to herself. Reluctantly, I give her bonus points for that. And it sure beats the hell out of waiting around all day for the only doctor. She finishes in half the time I expected and starts to clean up, so I stand.
    With her back to me, she says, “All done. You can check out with Rachel up front.” She stiffens and covers her mouth like she’s about to sneeze.
    I grab my jacket and helmet and head out.
    Outside, the glaring concrete blinds me, and I pause in sudden awareness of the bright and vast blue sky. The clear air fills my lungs as my eyes