𝗧𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆-𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿...

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"𝙽𝙾, 𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄," I hiss, cussing at my Apple watch as it reminds me to stand up for the umpteenth time this evening

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"𝙽𝙾, 𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄," I hiss, cussing at my Apple watch as it reminds me to stand up for the umpteenth time this evening. I'm in fucking pain.

"Aaahnn!" the sound of my Nanga waking up causes me to jolt from my seat.

We've been at the hospital for almost eight hours. Nanga had been moved into a hospital room after having reconstructive surgery on her jaw. It had been dislocated along with three broken ribs, a broken nose, and a concussion.

Learning about all of these injuries made me pissed all over again. I can't ever recall feeling this much rage in my entire life. Visions of what possibly happened keep flashing in my head. All I can hear is her calling for help, but knowing Nanga, she was probably more concerned about Nova than she was herself.

My little Nova. She's visibly shaken. She didn't want to leave Nanga's side ever since we all drove to the hospital. She was clearly hurt by what she witnessed, especially from my very own mother.

"Babyy," she grumbles softly, unable to move her jaw very much.

She is bandaged up with cords running from the IV that is in her arm. The fluids are keeping her hydrated and keeping her pain at a minimum. Her face is red and swollen. My baby is unrecognisable.

I questioned the doctor about permanent damages, but he assured me that there would be none. Scarring would heal over time. He did warn me that it would be a while before her jaw completely heals and that it would never feel the same. Nanga does music, I know for a fact that this will affect her.

"Nana," I sympathise with her, standing and pulling my chair as close to the bed as it will get.

My chest tightens, heartstrings tangled and tugged as the seconds elapse. This is all fucked up.

My mother and that fucker? Shit!

"How do you feel?"

There is a moment of silence before I watch her back cave in. Tears roll down her swollen cheeks and the dimples that I love so much are nowhere to be found. My body tingles, skin prickling all over. It hurts me to know that she is hurting.

"She was so scared, Sakhi," she cries  softly.

"I know, baby. I know." Leaning over, I kiss her lips and grabbed her hand.

"I didn't do anything kade." The more she speaks, the more blood leaks from my fucking chest.

"Ngiyazi baby." It's all I can think to say.

"And, and he's your uncle, Sakhi?" pained, she questions.

That shit automatically kills me. Crushes my fucking soul. The pain that I'm feeling is inexplicable, but I know exactly how I would express it. There was no way he was getting away with what he'd done. Related or not, I want someone to deal with him.

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