The hospital around her bustled as usual as she sat on the generic blue bed, waiting. Patiently she sat motionless, holding the ice pack to her bruise, its ring shape like a chunky plastic bangle embedded around the bloody white of her eyes. The sterile white walls placated her: morphine for her mangled thoughts; no not mangled, tangled that was what she meant, knotted together just like her hands, tied together, the rope chafing her wrists...

Hello, the white coat said, the pity in its voice. No no, not the coat, it was not talking, it was the doctor wearing a white coat. It was slimy and synthetic like the coat worn at labs when they tested things on rats and guinea pigs. Just like he would poke and prod her again and again, never stopping, never looking at her, never.May I, it, no he, it was a he, asked. What, what, may he what? Oh she realised, he wanted to examine her, to look, to touch her. She nodded meekly, a little girl acquiescing to anything; just like she'd nodded at the man, obliging, complying… consenting. No! Stop! STOPStopStopstopstop…. His hand gently prised open her legs, and then…nothing, calm. He had withdrawn his hands and sat back patiently. Slowly he slipped out of the room, camouflaged with the walls, blending in with the bustle of the hospital