Death Wish

Chapter 22: You're Pretty Lucky

"Linnea? Oh thank goodness you're all right."

My mouth is stuffed with cotton balls, so I weakly ask for water. Feeling something against my lips, I open my mouth and refreshing liquid rolls down my throat. When I'm done, I open my eyes and see Lorenzo's worried eyes looking at me and Myklyn in the back, staring at me with wide eyes.

"Lorenzo? I-"

I don't get to finish because the doctor rushes in and starts checking my charts and monitors. He gets Myklyn and brings her out in the hall, leaving me with Lorenzo.

"Hey, Linnea, how're you feeling?"

"I've been better," I say weakly.

I remember what Lorenzo said, that he loves me, but what if he was just saying it so I could wake up? Maybe he doesn't really love me. Or it was just a dream. Yeah, it was just a dream. Who'd love a murderer like me anyways?

Lorenzo looks at me expectantly and I return his look with a confused one.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing, nothing...it's just...do you have anything you want to say to me or repeat something you heard?" He asks nervously.

"No?" I answer, but it comes out more like a question because of my confusion.

"Oh, okay," he says dejectedly, looking like I kicked his puppy.

"What'd I do?"

"Nothing, just forget it."

The air is awkward and tense. I've never felt like this around Lorenzo and I don't like it at all. When Myklyn comes back inside with the doctor, her face is solemn.

The doctor says, "Linnea, you have three broken ribs and one fractured one. You had a concussion but there was no brain damage. We gave you butterfly stitches for your nose, but all in all you're pretty lucky."

"What do you mean, lucky? She's hurt all over and you call her condition lucky?" Lorenzo explodes.

"Lorenzo!" I say sharply. "That's no way to talk to the person who's helping me!"

"Sorry, but how are you so calm? This is the second time he's hurt you and you're acting like its nothing!" He snaps back.

I give him a warning glance and gesture for the doctor to continue.

He clears his throat awkwardly and says, "Yes, well, um, Linnea, you're injuries are not serious, rest and time should help it heal. I'm going to prescribe some medicine for the pain as you will be hurting because of the ribs. We're asking you to stay off the physical activity as much as possible because your ribs have been bruised before and they're weak. We don't need them completely breaking. We're going to keep you here for just a couple more days to check for infection from the cuts on your hand, but that's unlikely because, ironically, Thibault cleaned it with the alcohol. I'll be back in a couple hours to check on your hand and ribs."

When he leaves, I glare at Lorenzo.

"What's your problem? He's trying to help me!"

"My problem? What's yours? You're brushing this off! This is the third time I've seen you in a hospital or clinic and two of the three times was because of the same person! What does Thibault want with you? Or does he just take pleasure in beating you up?"

I clamp my mouth shut, not wanting to tell Lorenzo. If I tell him, I'm letting him get too close and it'll be that much worse when he leaves.