Breaking The Rules: Book 2

Chapter 21: 50 Shades of Insanity

𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟷𝟾𝚝𝚑
Griffin POV

"These socks are yours too, right?"

Ira pokes her head out of the bathroom doorway and waves a white pair of Nike socks with holes in the heels. It's kind of embarrassing, but I don't like buying new socks because it takes so long for them to stretch to fit my feet perfectly. I nod.

"Yeah," I reply. "Throw them in the bag."

What is also embarrassing is having a nurse pack my own damn belongings. Never in my craziest dreams would I have assumed that I'd miss the simple chore of packing a backpack, but here we are.

I could've maybe attempted it, except I got very specific instructions from the doctor twenty minutes ago. No climbing stairs. No bending or kneeling down. No excessive movement or walking. No jumping or stretching or exercising.

Since my existence is officially boiled down to sitting my ass in a chair for the next few weeks, I had no choice but to let Ira do the mundane task for me.

These next few weeks may or may not kill me. Although I'm looking forward to the excuse to spend all day playing video games in bed, I am going to miss the predictability of the company I have access too here. The nurses that have been assigned to my case have been the only bright side to this entire shit show; and they've also been good counselors.

Not that I've really given them a a choice. Every few hours Ira or another lady would pop in and ask, How are you doing?

That question is a gateway to whatever's on my mind in that moment. As they changed my IVs I'd complain about the highlight reels I've seen from the San Diego football camp. When they'd change my bandages, I had no problems bitching about what my dad said on the phone a little bit ago. While they helped me dress for the day, I'd bad mouth my cousin. After Rose would leave from a visit, one of them would stop by to check in and I'd say through gritted teeth that I can't believe she's related to me.

Seriously, I've talked more about myself and my problems to these poor nurses over the last six days then I've ever said to one other person in my life for the past eighteen years.

"Do you want this hair conditioner, too? It's almost gone," her voice comes from inside of the bathroom.

"Nope. Toss that shit." I sigh and readjust my weight on the wheelchair that Ira helped me into a little while ago. The moment that I shift, pain rockets down my left leg. Tears well up in my eyes at the sensation. Ever since they've weaned me off pain medication yesterday, I've been in misery.

Part of me wishes that they'd treat me like a horse and fuckin' shoot me in the head. That seems like the most humane way to go about this situation.

I stare at the horrendous paintings on the far wall and hear the sound of the bottle hitting the bottom of a trash bin. At the same time, outside of the cracked door that leads to the hallway, I hear the elevator ding.

My dads voice immediately comes rushing down the hallway like a tidal wave.

"... that you're lying to me, Gessel. You've worked with Hollie for long enough and you've been in this community enough to know that us Millers don't back down. I don't give a shit that he has an artificial knee. I will do whatever it takes to get him back on the field. There's too much wasted potential sitting in that room right now!"