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12

It's been 3 days since Lucas hurt his ankle and I am about to rip my hair out.

After waiting in the ER for almost 2 hours, he was finally able to get X-rays.

I had to leave the room at least 5 times to step outside, the smell of the bitter antiseptic made me feel so sick.

Lucas didn't take it well when the doctor confirmed that his ankle is broken. Not only that, but he needs surgery on it tomorrow to repair part of it.

Unfortunately, the doctor also told him that this would also be the end of his football season. I've never seen him so devasted, he didn't speak a single word to me the entire way home.

He's on crutches right now and I have been staying at his house for the last couple of days to help him.

I've taken care of him plenty of times when he's been sick or pulled a muscle, but this is an entire new ballpark. 

He's constantly whining at me to do everything for him, things he is perfectly capable of doing himself.

I don't mind cooking him food, getting him water, making his bed, and helping him into the bath, but I draw the line at clipping his toenails. 

He has honestly made this entire experience miserable and it's taken all the strength in me to not just say "good luck" and to walk out on him. He's acting like he just broke every bone in his body, not just his ankle.

I keep reminding myself that people who love each other are supposed to be there for one another, but it's getting more difficult as the days pass.

I haven't talked to Blake since Monday at practice, never bringing up the money he snuck into my bag. I decided to just let him win this one, after dealing with Lucas for the last three days, I simply just don't have it in me.

The only thing that's kept me sane is video games, my friends, and knowing that my parents are coming tonight for dinner at The Grill. It'll be a relief to see them.

I turn to Lucas who is lying up on the bed with his casted ankle up on a pillow. "So, dinner with my parents is around a half hour, do you want help getting dressed?"

"You don't seriously think I'm still going, do you?" he mutters rudely as if I just asked him the stupidest question in the world.

"I don't know. You can move around fine with your crutches so I figured you'd still wanna come. My parents will be disappointed to not see you," I shrug, not letting the annoyance shine through in my voice.

I think this injury has taken a serious toll on him past the physical part of it. Mentally, he's just so angry and bitter at the entire situation. Finding out that his football career is over hit him hard, he's barely wanted to eat or speak to me for the last three days. 

He's not only furious at himself for getting hurt but at the entire situation as a whole. 

And unfortunately, I'm the person he's deciding to take that out on.

"I don't give a shit Lena. I'm in pain and have surgery tomorrow. At this rate, you should be canceling on them. Who is going to take care of me while you're gone?" he scoffs, throwing the phone he was previously on to the side.

"Lucas, come on. I know you're hurt and I know you're upset about football but it could be worse. I've taken care of you the last three days and I will only be gone a few hours," I reply gently, trying to diffuse his approaching anger.

"And then what about this weekend?! You and the rest of those pricks are going to Wisconsin while I'll be in surgery getting my ankle repaired. Don't you feel bad that you won't be there for that?" he questions me, clearly trying to make me feel guilty.