The Gender Game 5: The Gender Fall(37)

I sighed and shook my head. “I’ll explain later. Right now we need to focus on Violet.”

“Right,” announced Dr. Tierney. “First things first. Cad, I need you to find rope or cloth to tie her down. The procedure I’m about to perform won’t hurt her, and the sedatives should hold her for plenty of time, but I want to prepare for every possible scenario just in case. If she wakes up in the middle of it and is able to move, it could cause severe damage. Irreversible damage.”

Cad nodded, his gaze going thoughtful. “My wife has been helping out with the washing for the camp,” he said, “and she was telling me we have… an excess amount of sheets. Would that work?”

“That’s perfect,” Dr. Tierney replied. “We need to have enough to secure her limbs, torso, and head, so get as many as possible.”

Cad was moving before she was finished talking, and I felt a surge of appreciation for the young man—he was clearly a man of action, which would be helpful in the days to come. As long, of course, as he didn’t go rogue on us like he had done yesterday.

As he left, I turned back to Dr. Tierney. She was examining her instruments, her mouth moving, reciting something to herself under her breath. I caught the words ‘catheter’ and ‘antiseptic’ and assumed she was going through her mental checklist for the procedure she was planning to perform on Violet. I was loath to interrupt her, but I wanted to help as well.

“Dr. Tierney, what do you want me to do?” The words felt odd as I spoke them. I rarely asked for advice on how to help people, trusting my gut instinct to see me through. However, I was certainly out of my depth when it came to medical training. Aside from the first-aid emergency response training I had received as a warden, I had no idea what to do. It was… more than frustrating.

Her blue eyes looked over at me, and she frowned, as if she had forgotten I was there. Her gaze flicked over to Violet, and she picked up a silver item from the desk and approached me. I held out my hand, curious, and she deposited a pair of clippers in my palm.

“I need you to shave off her hair,” she said.

I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach, and I eyed the clippers as if she had put a live venomous snake into the palm of my hand. “You want me to what?”

Dr. Tierney tsked and crossed her arms. “Her hair has to come off, Viggo. I need to be able to access her skull from all angles, especially since it’s fractured. It’s a good job for you—I know you’ll be gentler with her than anybody else.”

Numbly, I nodded, and then turned back to Violet. I sat down slowly and scooched a little higher up on the bed. Her hair was spread wildly all around her face, and though it was dirty and tangled, it was still beautiful. The brown tresses had grown since I had first known her, and the tips curled at the ends. The thought of shaving it felt… wrong, somehow. Like a violation. She had no way of consenting to this, and when she woke up, she would mourn its loss.

Just like I was mourning it right now. It was silly, but I loved Violet’s hair. I loved how in the shadow it looked like the darkest night, and how in the day it was warm and inviting, like chocolate. Hints of brandished gold and amber threaded through its tips, and I loved them too. I especially loved how it felt in my hands when I kissed her. It was a part of her.

Dr. Tierney, sensing my reluctance, dropped a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll grow back,” she said softly. “I’m sure she’ll forgive you for this one little thing. Besides, Violet is a practical girl. If it were a choice between her life and her hair… what do you think she’d choose?”

Grimacing, I turned on the clippers and, after taking a deep breath, I began to shave her head.

Even though it was practical, I still couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain as each lock fell to the pillow, revealing the pale skin of Violet’s scalp below. I worked quickly, sometimes gently hoisting her up so I could have better access to the back of her head. In a few minutes, she was completely bald. I leaned back to examine my work, my heart pounding uncharacteristically. As if I’d had anything to worry about. She looked just as beautiful to me, even with her hair gone—with the exception of the large, swollen, angry bruise marring her scalp. I had winced when I’d uncovered that, but fought back my worry and finished the job.

I turned off the clippers and had begun to scoop up the hair when Ms. Dale bustled in, carrying a fresh set of linens for the bed. “These are clean,” she announced. “And Dr. Arlan is on his way.”

“Great,” replied Dr. Tierney. “Viggo, would you mind holding Violet for a minute while Ms. Dale and I change the linens? It’s not ideal, but any precaution we can take to avoid infection is better than none at all.”