The Boy Who Broke My Leg

Chapter 2

Pain is coursing through me when I open my eyes again, beginning at my ankle and radiating in waves throughout my body. I groan. I try to roll onto my side to reach for the water bottle that's always on my night stand and pain intensifies.

"Don't move, Ness, I've got it." Kay's sleepy voice murmurs as she appears next to me. She uncaps the bottle and carefully pours it into my open mouth. The lights in the hall are on so the place isn't submerged in complete darkness. She remembers.

"Hurts like hell", I groan as I bury my head deeper into my pillow and clutch my stuffed pony, Milky Way. It's embarrassing to sleep with a stuffed animal at 17 I guess, but I can't seem to give it up. 

"I know, Nessa. Just have some soup or something so you can take pain meds. You haven't eaten since lunch yesterday."

I crane my head painfully to look at my alarm clock. 2:23 am. I passed out as soon as Ms. R and Kayla brought me home, even though they insisted I eat something first.

"You stayed to look after me", I whisper and Kay sits down on the edge of the bed.

"Of course I did. You didn't think I'd just leave you here alone, did you?"

But the fact is, if she wasn't here, I would be alone. I'd be crippled with pain in my bed with nobody to help me. Nobody would care. My mom wasn't here. My dad couldn't bear the pain of staying here without her. He left me with Aunt Steph for a few weeks till I turned 16 but when I assured her that I could take care of myself, she didn't hesitate to move back to Chicago, two hours away. She invites me over for Thanksgiving sometimes.

But Kayla was here. And offering me soup. For some reason this makes me want to cry, and I blame it on the medication because I am not a crier. I'm a lock-all-your-feelings-up-till-you-don't-feel-them-er.

"Hey, it's okay", Kayla softly as one traitorous tear escapes my eye and rolls down my cheek. She pats my head gently. "I'll heat up the soup give me two seconds and then pain meds so you can sleep it through."

She thinks I'm crying from physical pain. She doesn't realize what I'd be without her.

Somehow between pain and late night thoughts, I'm in sad boi hour. I miss my mom. I miss her smile and her taking care of me and ugh I just miss her. In a weird way, I miss my dad too, because even though he's still physically there, he's not a part of my life anymore. I'm craving a bottle of tequila to forget about it but new Vanessa doesn't do that anymore.  I haven't touched a sip of alcohol in close to 5 months and I wasn't going to break it now. I need to prove to myself that I can be strong. I can make it through without drinking alcohol like water to make myself fall asleep.

Somehow I manage to down a bowl of soup, alternating between Kayla feeding me and me managing to feed myself a few spoonfuls. I take my medicine and fall back into an uncomfortable slumber.

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The weekend passes by in a daze. Even with the painkillers, there's still an uncomfortable soreness, although it's nowhere as near as intense as the first night. Kayla stays with me the whole weekend even though she's probably bored as hell watching random thrillers and horror movies I choose off Netflix and fall asleep halfway through. Mrs. Rodriguez comes by twice a day to bring me food even though she has three other kids and a household to run on her own. I can't stop feeling guilty for imposing on people and constantly apologize up till a point where they have to threaten to duct tape my mouth shut if I utter another sorry.

Somewhere on Saturday evening, Kayla looks nervous when I wake up from another one of my drug induced naps.

"He's here to see you. Do you, um, want me to tell him to leave?" she asks.