The doctor was a little perplexed.
Twenty-two years as a doctor, and not once had he come across someone like this.
Maybe a masochist?
Whatever it was, she was his wife and wouldn't lie about a thing like this.
Hence, he didn't bother insisting on the anesthesia and went ahead to suture the torn skin on Silas's face and nose without it.
"Why aren't you using anything to numb the pain? Get. Away. From. Me! Get that needle away from me right this instant! Use something, darn it!"
Leaning back in her seat outside, Ayla placed her head on the wall, eyes sealed shut as she took in the painful screams coming from the emergency room in pure relish.
She didn't know which thrilled her more: the fact that he was being sewn shut while fully conscious or the fact that he was afraid of needles.
The realization that he can't sleep through this must be quite horrifying.
Such intense joy she was suddenly feeling. No wonder wicked people always glowed different.
