Misha clenched his fists under the thin blanket and glared at the old lady occupying the hospital bed on his left. Just now, she had mistaken him for her great-granddaughter. It was already the third time today! And it wasn't even noon….
'Calm down,' Misha told himself as he sucked in a deep breath. 'Don't get angry at an old lady for only this much!'
Come on, the woman was in her late eighties, with a foot in the grave! Her memory was blurry, and veils of white clouded her eyes. Whether it was his other roommates, the nurses, or the visitors, she mistook everyone for a member of her family. One minute, you could be her sibling, and the other, her child. Whoever they were, no one was spared once they stepped inside the room. So, it wasn't like she was targeting him specifically….
But still, Misha couldn't get rid of his indignation; she thought he was a little girl instead of a little boy! Sometimes, she'd even ask what kind of dress he wanted to wear on his birthday. A pink one? A blue one? One with bows and laces? Or maybe a casual dress?
No matter how many times he tried to correct her, telling her that he was a little boy and not a little girl, she ignored him and kept asking what kind of dress he wanted, saying that she'd buy it. And when it wasn't about dresses or skirts, she switched to dolls and Barbies.
At some point, Misha almost slammed the curtain in her face. He was honestly fuming!
Misha eventually gave up and could only look at his mother with puppy eyes. He knew closing the curtain would only anger the old lady into crying, and he didn't want to deal with this. The curtain was but a piece of cloth and wasn't soundproof; it gave off the illusion of privacy, and that was all. And so, Misha silently asked his mother for help. He couldn't count on his other roommates; one laughed at his expense, while the other was caught up in a book, unaffected by his surroundings. The sky could be falling down, and it didn't seem like he'd care.
With a small smile, Gulnas nodded, ruffled his hair, and went to the old lady's side. She then initiated a conversation with the woman, successfully distracting her from her son.
Finally! Misha could breathe a sigh of relief. He lounged on his bed and closed his eyes, wanting to rest.
Thanks to the old lady's nagging, his headache had become unbearable. It throbbed at his temples like a heartbeat, sending waves of pain to the back of his head. In a way, it felt as if someone was gradually tightening a pipe clamp around his head. His skull seemed to have shrunk, and not enough place was left for his brain. It was one hell of a weird feeling.
However, his hard-won peace was short-lived. A minute later, a nurse came in and trotted to Misha's side, a needle in her hand.
"Give me your arm," the middle-aged woman ordered in a hoarse and unfriendly voice. "I need to take a sample of your blood."
Misha's mouth twitched. It was that grumpy nurse again, the woman in charge of his room in the daytime. Once in a while, she'd come to take care of his daily necessities, meaning that she showed up at least two to three times a day.
Whenever she came over, she seemed to be constipated. After seeing her sullen face for three days in a row, Misha hadn't been able to restrain himself yesterday and asked if she needed to go to the toilet, pointing to the bathroom to his right.
At that time, her expression had been quite priceless. Her furrowed brows and pinched lips accentuated the look of constipation on her face. Although she became ruder with the boy afterward, it was still well worth it. To start with, that nurse was everything but polite and caring, making Misha wonder if she hadn't been coerced into becoming a nurse. Honestly, if she didn't want to work with people and didn't know how to handle patients, she might as well quit for their common good!
With that kind of uncaring behavior, it was inevitable that the patients didn't welcome her. Misha almost couldn't restrain himself a few times and was about to let his tongue get loose. Scolding her until she begged for mercy was very tempting, but his mother was always near. He didn't want to be out of character in front of her, so he wisely shut up and silently endured.
Although it seemed like his younger self was bossy, Misha didn't actually know how much he acted like a young master. And after interacting with Dereck, he also realized that his acting was flawed and that his way of speaking was on a toddler's level. Well, he did take Vanessa's daughter as an example. And that child was three years old, not nine.
What puzzled him, however, was that no one in his family said anything about his childish behavior. Was he that much of a baby as a child? He couldn't remember. That period of his life was too vague, resulting in blurry memories. The only thing he remembered clearly was the day his mother died. It was still crystal clear in his mind despite the passing of the years.
Misha grew lost in thought and unconsciously glared at the nurse without moving or saying anything. Realizing that the boy was not listening, the nurse's lousy mood got worse. She grabbed his arm without warning, telling him to be good while she inserted the needle. If the brat didn't want to cooperate, she didn't mind being forceful. She had other things to do, and this pretty boy rubbed her the wrong way.
When the middle-aged woman snatched his wrist, Misha almost instantly kicked her in the stomach. He had to clench his free fist until his nails dug into the palm of his hand to stay still. Even though the nurse was wearing plastic gloves, the warmth of her hands still spread over his arm, making his stomach churn. He hated being touched, goddammit!
A few days ago, Misha had been able to prepare himself the first time they took a sample of his blood, and he didn't make a scene. The kind nurse of the nighttime had taken care of this task, and she had gently warned him about her intention. Therefore, Misha was fully prepared and didn't feel too bad when she touched him, which wasn't the case right now.
Frankly, he had the urge to vomit and only held it in because of his pride.
"Do you have to be so rough?!" Mrs. Brown growled, having left the old lady and dashed over to her son's bedside. "Can't you see you're hurting him?!"
Although Gulnas was petite, she seemed to grow taller and more imposing whenever someone dared to touch her children. Until now, she had tolerated the nurse's bad attitude because she could understand that her job wasn't the easiest one, but there was a limit to her patience. Now that she had gone overboard, Gulnas could no longer keep silent.
"Your son does not cooperate," the nurse said in a flat tone. "He brought it upon himself."
"You!"
"Mom!" Misha called, interrupting her. "I'm fine."
The boy forced a smile, looking straight into her eyes. He didn't want his mother to get in trouble because of him, so he pretended that he didn't mind the nurse's rough treatment. That was also why he hadn't kicked the middle-aged woman. Misha was currently just a kid, whether he liked it or not, and his action would affect his family's reputation. He didn't care if people had a bad opinion of him, but he couldn't stand others mocking his mother because of his behavior, saying that she didn't know how to educate her son and such.
Well, that was only about his violent tendencies. There was some aspect of his personality that he couldn't change no matter what.
"Are you sure?" Gulnas asked, her tone carrying a hint of worry.
"Yes!"
"But…"
"I'm done," the nurse said while applying a pressure bandage. She then dug out a sterile sample cup from her pocket. "Pee in this. I'm coming back in twenty minutes."
"Sure…"
Then, the nurse turned on her heel and left. The mother and son duo watched her disappear into the corridor, glaring at her back. A few seconds passed before Misha turned his head to the side. His eyes landed on the carton of apple juice on his wheeled table, and soon, a devilish grin curled up the corner of his lips.
_______________________
Chapter revised on 2022-04-30
Edited by Clozed! ♥
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