I lean in close, my breath grazing his ear. "You're mean," I murmur, voice barely above a whisper as I swallow down the whimper threatening to escape-though from the way his smirk deepens, I know he hears it.
That devilish grin spreads across his fa...
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"Break her leg" I hear Nigel mumbles I'm extremely exhausted i look over my body flopping.
What the fuck.
The drugs illuminate my vision I see Colten and Nigel blurry figure. My brain all fuzzy my head pounding my lips tremble.
My heart seizes. No. No. Please. The word falls from my mouth in a whimper, the only one I can manage. My throat is raw, lips trembling. My chest rises in short, rapid bursts—lungs shrinking, panic surging through my bloodstream like acid.
Everything's a blur: shapes, shadows, heat. My leg burns before anything even touches it, like my body knows what's coming. My foot is nudged—no, kicked—outward by a boot. Floyd.
Worry fill my body as I lay on the ground "No...please" I whimper the only words I can think of and say. I shake my head tears blur my vision I can barely see I try scooting back I breath heavy.
What's wrong with me? Besides the obvious.
My body all weak my heart beats rapidly. I can't help myself. no one is going to help me I know better than that.
Coltens quiet and distant I can see it in his eyes he isn't here. Not mentally. My body begins to tremble. How the hell did I get here. Oh right my big mouth.
I gulp. Nigel chuckles deeply. I look around to a bunch or blurs. I feel someone's shoe pressing my foot outwards. I strangled whine leaves my lips.
I let a sob rip from my lips. My body barley moves as I shake trying to thrust out. I can't do anything. "Please ..please." I beg in desperation hoping someone will stop him. I should know one ever cares until the damage is done. My heart is pumping heavily against my chest. My entire body feels like it's hovering lava.
No matter how many tears or cries or pleads. This world constantly makes me it's shit dumpster.
"Shut her up. Floyd." Nigel orders to muffle my pleas I look up at him in depth my eyes full of tears my skin begins to sweat. He grabs a gag putting it around my head in my mouth.
Diego grabs my other leg—his hands like ice, unfeeling, clinical.
Colten doesn't move.
He's standing there. Watching. And for a split second—my foggy vision catches something.
His eyes.
Not cold. Not cruel. Just... haunted.
Dead.
Like he's not even inside himself anymore. Like he already left the room. Or wishes he had.
His jaw clenches. His hands curl into fists at his sides. His mouth twitches, but no words come out. He's not stopping them.
"Hold her down." Nigel demands my stomach aches with a sick feeling. I tremble violently. I squeeze my eyes shut. Praying.
I feel a hard heavy boot stomp come to my foot. As it's pulled outwards
A blood curdling murder scream rips from my chest burning my throat as tears run out the corners of my eyes he repeats the process of crushing and stomping on my foot my screams fill the room with nothing but pain my throat eventually goes dry.
I have a hard time breathing I beg for them to stop threw the gag. Im shaking. A sharp snap cracks through out the room. Excruciating pain burst threw my body.
I scream out tears pool out the corners of my eyes my vision goes cross eyed and excruciating pain radiates threw my leg worse than ever. The throbbing nerves throughout my entire body up to my stomach I gag. Feeling vomit rise up my throat.
I breath heavily as more tears fall down my face my head throws back in pain my eyes close I whimper weakly trying to express my pain but my leg hurts too much.
I look around my vision hazy. I start to get dizzy losing focus and conciseness. I catch grey eyes on me my eyes are crossed as I try to stay awake but I can't it hurts I scream once more feeling someone's hand on it adding pressure to my broken outwards foot.
"S- st st s-" I can barely form the word stop from the excruciating pain. I close my eyes drifting off.
My eyes flutter again. Less hazy this time. Just pain and white noise.
The nurse is gone.
But now a new figure enters—Dr. Harris. Clipboard in hand. Tired face. Like he's seen too much of me lately.
"You're more alert," he says gently.
I glance toward him, slowly shifting my head. "Why is there a tube in my nose?" My voice sounds like gravel. Hollow. Foreign.
He moves closer, adjusting the IV line running from a bag above to my arm. "That's oxygen. You've been having trouble breathing steadily on your own. Standard, considering the extent of your injuries."
I squint. My ribs feel like glass shards under my skin. I try not to breathe too deeply.
Then it hits me again, stronger this time—the pulsing throb radiating from my leg.
I peer down the hospital bed, eyes widening. The blanket draped over my lower body barely disguises the monstrosity beneath it.
"What's—what's under there?" My voice trembles. I already know. But I need to hear it. Need someone else to say it first.
Dr. Harris pauses. "Your leg sustained a compound fracture. Your foot was... crushed. We had to reconstruct it. Metal rods. Pins. Part of the bone was too shattered to salvage."
I inhale sharply, regret washing through me instantly. Pain stabs through my chest, and I gag on the effort. He steadies me with a hand on my shoulder.
"I want to see it." My voice is quieter now. Like I'm bargaining with a version of myself I don't believe in anymore.
He hesitates. "It's... swollen. The bruising is extensive. You've got external fixators. It isn't pretty."
"I don't care. Show me."
He nods, then gently peels the blanket away from the lower half of my body.
And there it is. My leg.
Unrecognizable.
Skin purple and yellow and red in impossible patterns. Swollen to nearly double its size. Metal rods drilled into my shin, crisscrossing over the bone like scaffolding. Bandages layered and bloody. The shape of it—wrong.
A sob chokes up my throat. I bite my lip until I taste blood.
"That's not my leg," I whisper. "That's not mine. That thing is not mine."
He doesn't correct me.
I look away. I can't even cry. My body's too dry. Or maybe I'm too empty.
"Will I walk again?" I ask him without looking.
"With physical therapy... time, patience... yes. But you'll have a limp. Possibly permanent. It's too early to say."
