Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: Chapter Ninety-Seven

I instantly go bug-eyed, and all the muscles in my eye sockets stretch themselves as far as they can go. I try to stay composed, but I’m unable to mask the copious amounts of shock transcending my face, and I hate that I know he can clearly see my elk-in-the headlights reaction in spite of the barrier of my glasses.

Do it, then?

For a split second, I’m positive I heard wrong…and then I remember who I’m dealing with.

Still, I’m completely caught off guard by the statement.

I’m beyond baffled, and words refuse to leave my lips after hearing what he just said.

He can’t be serious. He…he has to be bluffing.

I push my folded arms tighter against my chest, a defensive gesture, but also maybe a subconscious effort to brace myself for what comes next.

“I’m not kidding,” I insist, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum. The only thing I need to do is pout and stomp my foot. “I will piss in here if you don’t show me where the fucking bathroom is—”

My words immediately die in their tracks, and they sharply transition into a quipped, surprised yelp when I feel his hand abruptly on my throat again, but this time, the action is far more intense.

Far more intentional.