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Now I'd gotten him assaulted.
I was mortified, apologizing profusely, offering to cover medical costs.
"Medical costs? I ama doctor," Benjamin waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine. He's held a grudge against me for years. This was just an excuse. Not your fault."
"You don't have to sugarcoat it." I sighed. "Adrian thinks you'rethe obstacle. That without you revealing his motives, the only problem was Chloe. If he distanced himself from her, we'd reconcile."
He never acknowledged using me as a subject was wrong.
Perhaps sensing my distress, Benjamin changed the subject. "Those injuries... the visible ones are one thing. It's the unseen damage I worry about."
I understood.
My hand drifted unconsciously to my abdomen.
Of course, it wasn't just my arm.
A long, jagged scar ran across my belly.
The stitching had been terrible.
I'd cried then.
Adrian snapped, "What are you crying about? You can't feel it! It doesn't affect you!"
I'd mumbled about the scar being ugly.
He'd exploded. "You're married! Who cares about looks? No vision! Always focused on the superficial!"
To him, all my thoughts were idiotic.
"Come in for a full scan tomorrow," Benjamin said gently. "Pain is a warning system. Without it, you mustbe extra vigilant. Your condition isn't a lab specimen. It shouldn't define you."
My nose stung. My eyes felt hot.
I managed a quiet, "Okay."
No one had ever spoken to me like this.
As a kid, protecting friends, I'd take hits from bigger bullies.
They'd thank me.
I'd grin through a bloody nose, saying "No problem."
Eventually, they'd shove me forward for anything risky, yelling, "Let Emma do it! She can't feel pain!"
True. I couldn't feel pain.
But I needed to protect myself.
In recent years, my hospital visits were rare, mostly just seeking Adrian.
Apart from the emergency admission and stitch removal, this was my first realphysical.
Adrian always said, "The body's resilient. I'll notice anything wrong."
The full battery of tests took hours.
Most results were normal, pending a few.
Benjamin studied my report for a long time.
He looked up. "Twenty-one scars. All from... experimentation?"
"Not all," I admitted quietly, embarrassed. "Some... were from taking hits for friends."
His expression was grave. "The injury that brought you in... Emma, you nearly died. A millimeter deeper, hitting the artery... even right outside an ER, survival isn't guaranteed." He pointed at the scan of my abdomen. "And that stitching... it's..." He trailed off, sighing. "Weren't you afraid?"
I felt like a kid caught out.
I stared blankly, finally whispering, "Sometimes."
I used to be afraid, before being called dramatic.
Then I stopped feeling anything.
Benjamin was silent for a long moment. "I'll contact you when the remaining results are in."
He checked his watch. "I'll drive you home."
I protested it was too much trouble.
He insisted. "These results... someone else needs to see them too."
