The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)

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.”

I slid my arm under Violet’s knees and lifted her up, holding her tightly and taking a step back to give them space to work. Ms. Dale frowned at the loose hair, but refrained from commenting as she quickly pushed it to the center and gathered up the sheets. I waited in silence while they worked, pressing my cheek to Violet’s newly shaven head. She sighed under me, nuzzling closer, and I smiled faintly. My girl was still in there somewhere.

Soon they had the sheets changed, and I set her down again. Cad returned with an armload of bedsheets, and, following Dr. Tierney’s instructions, we quickly strapped Violet down to the bed. I tested the restraints one by one, making sure they were tight, but not tight enough to cut off circulation. By the time we were done, Dr. Arlan was there, and he and Dr. Tierney spoke in hushed whispers in the corner.

I stiffened, wondering if Dr. Arlan was going to resort to the behavior of a typical Patrian male and demand that he take over, but much to my relief, it didn’t look like he was causing any problems. I cleared my throat and looked at them.

“We’re done,” I announced.

Dr. Tierney nodded. “Good. Now… get out.”

I blinked. “What? You said you needed help. I’m staying.”

Her face was hard, any sign of sympathy now buried. “I can’t let you do that,” she said. “It’s admirable that you want to be here, but I can’t trust you not to react to what I’m about to do.”

“I shouldn’t have to convince you that I’m more than capable of—”

“I’m going to be drilling into her skull, Viggo,” Dr. Tierney announced, her voice calm and clinical. She picked the drill up off the table where she’d been organizing her equipment and held it up to me. “Possibly multiple times. The procedure is rudimentary and invasive, and I do not need you here to freak out when I do. Because I know that, while you are a practical person, this is the woman you love.”

My jaw slackened as she spoke, the sickness I felt validating her words: instantly I felt a very strong urge to pick Violet up and run, in spite of the logical part of my brain trying to convince me that Dr. Tierney was a good doctor who knew her stuff. It took me a minute to calm my protective instinct, and the best response I could manifest was, “You’re right… Good luck.” Then I turned and walked out.

I made it as far as I dared to go—the farmhouse living room—and sat down heavily on the sofa, staring blearily out the window as birds fluttered around in the early-morning light. Cad gave me a curious look as he and Ms. Dale entered the room after me.