Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
“Like I’ve been stabbed.”
He laughs, motioning to the sheets over my stomach. “May I?”
“Help yourself.”
He pulls them back and looks over the dressing covering half of my side. “You’ve been through the mill.” He picks up my notes and starts looking through. “We removed the knife during surgery. We hoped the damage was limited to a deep puncture, but it seems the blade was moved once it had penetrated.”
I look at the ceiling, blinking back a flashback. Her eyes. “She lost her grip when I shoved her away.”
“That undoubtedly saved your life. If she’d pulled the knife free, it would have been a very different story.”
I nod, closing my eyes. “Are you saying I’d be dead?” I squint into my darkness at the blurry silhouette of a very tall man in the distance.
“In a nutshell. Your lung collapsed while you were in theater, and you’d lost an exceptional amount of blood. The internal injuries were extensive. Your body went into preservation to heal, hence you’ve been out for a while.”
I realize it’s not a tall man, but a kid on someone’s shoulders. I frown, opening my eyes. “Two weeks,” I say.
He smiles. “How’s the pain?”
“Awful.”
Ava appears from the bathroom and puts herself out of the way, smiling to the surgeon when he nods his hello. “I’ll have Nurse get you some more morphine.” He goes to the wall and yanks some gloves out of a dispenser, pulling them on. “Let’s have a look,” he says, picking at the edge of the dressing, easing it off, humming.
I wince and look down at the raw wound. “Fucking hell,” I breathe.
“You’re very lucky.”
I flick my eyes to Ava, seeing her arms folded, listening. I give her a small smile. She doesn’t return it. Lucky. “And the bag?” I ask, nodding in the general vicinity of my bed, where it’s hanging on the side.
“The bag needs to stay for now.”
“I can make it to the bathroom, Doctor.”
“I think you’re a little optimistic.”
“But—”
“There’s really no buts about it, Jesse. The bag stays. Maybe tomorrow. We’ll see if you’re up for a little walkabout tomorrow.” He collects some things from a wall cabinet. “You’ve just come round.”
“What about this, then?” I ask, holding up my arm. He looks over his shoulder, smiling as he shakes his head.
Defeated, I sigh, letting him redress my stomach as Ava watches, her concentration fierce. “Everything looks fine,” he says, pulling off the gloves and dropping them in the bin. “I’ll have Nurse fix you up with that morphine. I’m on the ward tomorrow morning, so we’ll see if you’re up for a little walk then.”
“I will be.”
“We’ll see.” He looks at Ava. “I’m putting you in charge,” he says around an ironic smile. Ava laughs, and I snort.
“Don’t feed the beast, Doc,” I grumble, making him chuckle his way out of my room.
I watch Ava move to the high-backed chair and sit. “The more you cooperate, the sooner you’ll be released.”
There’s the problem. Cooperate. Whenever has she known me to be good at that? “You look tired. Are you eating?”
“Yes.”
“Ava. Go now and get something to eat.”
“My mum fed me a salad.” A fucking salad. “I’m not hungry.”
Give me strength. And then it occurs to me. “What have you told them?”
“Everything,” she says, simple and easy. “Except for your four-day absence.”
“Okay,” I whisper, feeling heavier on the bed. Everything. “Go and get something to eat.”
“I’m not hun—”
“Don’t make me tell you again, lady,” I snap, done. She will not use my inability to walk to her advantage. “Piss bag or not, I’ll march you down to that fucking restaurant myself and shove some food down your throat.”
She recoils, injured, and I feel utterly shit about it. Fuck. They know everything. All of my horrid secrets and fuckups. “I’ll get you something too,” she says quietly.
“I’m not hungry,” I reply, hearing the door close behind her. I drop my eyes and stare at the wood, just as it opens again. Nurse has a bag of fluid in her hands. She chitchats happily, while I lie back, letting her change the bag and inject something into the canula on the back of my hand, sending freezing cold liquid up my arm.
“Twins,” she says, washing her hands at the sink. “How exciting. You better hurry up and recover.”
“I will as soon as they let me out of bed.”
She chuckles. “Slowly but surely. You’ll fall flat on your face if you stand up too soon.”
“Right,” I say, watching her leave. I shouldn’t have snapped at Ava. I sigh and close my eyes, feeling like I’m running the gauntlet of flashbacks and memories. In my body, out of my body, struggling to straighten everything out, figure out what’s real and what was dreamt. Her parents are here. I squint in my darkness, pulling something from the back of my mind. Elizabeth. I heard her. Yes, she was trying to get Ava to eat. She settled for a salad. It’s something, and I’m grateful. Did I hear the big man? I breathe in when it comes to me. John on the floor. He was hurt. They were remanded. Both of them. Both? My brain begins to ache, and then the floodgates open again, another mishmash of recollections hitting me. I hear my dad.