"Alright then." The doctor nodded, readying the iodine for disinfection.
The wound was rather deep, more profound than a simple scrape. It was hard to guess how this seemingly frail girl had endured such pain for so long without uttering a sound.
Rumor was, she had even continued dancing before she passed out. Wasn't that nonsense?
The doctor readied his forceps to start the procedure while a few nurses held down Hannah's legs.
"Ouch, it hurts," she whimpered.
The girl in his arms began to struggle, beads of sweat forming on her forehead as her eyelashes fluttered. Her soft voice was filled with a whimpering tone that resembled a kitten's cry.
The sound made one's heart ache.
But Arnold Simmons pressed down harder, his chin resting atop the girl's fluffy hair. His voice was low, yet full of comfort, "Hang in there, it will be over soon."
He was not sure if his words had any effect, but the following procedure occurred without hitch.
