Days Are Numbered

45. the surface

Cordelia sat nervously in the doctor's office, her eyes flickering between Beatrice's serious expression and Noah's file lying on the desk. Beatrice, with her usual composed vibe, peered over her glasses at her.

Beatrice adjusted her glasses, "Is Noah in contact with anyone at home, maybe slightly intimidating, a cousin? Uncle? Stepfather?" She asked.

Cordelia squinted trying to answer the question and to read her mind at the same time, "His uncle Julius," Cordelia began, her voice holding uncertainty. "They're not always together. Julius visits occasionally, but Noah tends to retreat to his room when he's around. He does that to everyone else."

Beatrice nodded, taking in the information. "I see," she murmured thoughtfully.

Cordelia hesitated, her mind racing as she considered the implications of Beatrice's question, "Why, tough? Did he mention anything?"

Beatrice shook her head in denial. "Look," she paused, "Noah has three cracked ribs, and his scan results show that he has previously broken ribs that may have gone untreated or improperly cared for. And it could seriously affect his health later in the future."

"Three cracked ribs?" Cordelia repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "And previous injuries that didn't heal properly?"

"Yeah, maybe he fell?" Beatrice attempted to reassure Cordelia, though her tone hinted at a huge doubt. She had a full idea of what might have transpired, but she chose to keep it sealed until Noah was awake and able to speak for himself. Perhaps Cordelia could be behind all of it, or maybe Noah simply didn't want her to know for important reasons. She recalled Noah mentioning that she "wasn't made for that," whatever that meant.

Cordelia's brow furrowed as she contemplated Beatrice's words. There was a lingering sense of unease, a feeling that there was more to Noah's injuries than she was told.

"Can I see him?" Cordelia asked anxiously.

"Not yet, he needs to undergo a rib fixation," Beatrice stated matter-of-factly.

"Is it that bad? I thought ribs usually heal on their own," Cordelia questioned.

"When his ribs were broken, he didn't seek medical help, which is why they healed in a deformed manner. It could puncture his lungs if he has a rough impact, like a fall," Beatrice explained.

Cordelia bit her lip. "Fine, I just want him to be okay, and pain-free," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Please, Bea, he's all I have left."

Beatrice nodded sympathetically, understanding Cordelia's words.

*********

Noah woke up feeling disoriented, unable to fully grasp his surroundings. The effects of the medication left him feeling foggy, a sensation he was all too familiar with from his nightly routine of taking sleeping pills. Despite the haze, he recognized the necessity of the medication for his sleep, even if it meant waking up feeling disconnected from reality.

He stared down at the patterns of multiple dots on his gown, groaning as he tried to comprehend where his clothes had disappeared to. Scars on his arms caught his attention, each one telling its own story. One particular scar on his forearm brought back a vivid memory: the result of a brutal encounter with Avgustin. Noah remembered being shoved forcefully into a dry tree, feeling the rough branch scrape against his flesh like a blade, leaving a painful wound behind. Worst part, the yelling only intensified.

Noah sat up gently, feeling a surge of pain coursing through his nerves from seemingly nowhere. His surroundings came into focus: multiple tubes connected him to various machines, their blinking lights adding to the barrenness of the room. Noah exhaled lightly, then he began reaping the tubes one by one, feeling a sense of control return to his mind. But as he stood up, a wave of excruciating pain shot through his ribs, forcing him to quickly sit back down, groaning in discomfort.