island ☆ g.d.

23. philly

Y/n POV:
I wince as I remove the bandages on my leg.

The damage done on it by Sydney is irreversible. I can't help it, so I just have to let it heal. What nobody ever told me was how bad the pain would be.

Clenching my hands into fists, I removed the layer of white bandages, seeing them get redder and redder as unravel them. When I get to my actual leg (or stump), the bandage sticks to the caked-on blood, ripping open the injuries that produced the red liquid.

I squeeze my eyes together and bend down, holding my head in my hands. This pain is too much to handle. I rip the white cloth off of my leg as fast as I can, letting out a shriek of pain. Trying to pick off day old blood, my eyebrows furrow in pain.

The blood that is too painful to remove is a dark reddish-brown color.

I sit down and wheel myself over to my trash can, tossing the used bandages into it. I sit there for a second, not moving because I found a position that causes my leg to hurt a little less. I reach over to flip the loose end of the bandage that hangs over the trash can when the pain suddenly comes back, making me tense up quickly.

My head flinches into my right shoulder, hurting my neck. I go limp for a minute, feeling all my pain surround me. Wheeling over to where the bandages are, I dread the pain that I know will come with this.

When I open the thin box, I notice that I only have two rolls of bandages left. I pull one out while I see the cardboard rip a bit from my fingers opening it too wide.

I position my leg on the edge of the toilet, grabbing a paper towel, wetting it, and wiping as much of the blood on my leg off. The healing cuts that I failed to see because of the blood break open and bleed into the clear water of the toilet, turning it pink and eventually red.

I let a few tears slip down my face before I decide to get to the second worst part so it can be over fast. I already ripped the used bandage off of my leg, so now I just have to deal with this.

I pull an arms length of bandage from the roll and then double it. I place the end of it on my leg and press down, watching fresh blood staining the first layer. Tears drop into the cloth as I continue to wrap it around my leg. I can't believe this is my life now.

I wipe off all the blood left on my wheelchair and then I wheel myself to the kitchen where Grayson is standing, headphones in his ears. He's cutting something up. Whenever he actually cooks, which apparently isn't today, I never know what he made until he tells me. Even if it's right in front of me. You never know with that guy.

Not before long, a very small plate is placed in front of me. This time, I know what it is.

"Peaches?" I look at them, remembering the trees at the island. My mouth waters as I think of the sweet fruit. The peaches here aren't the same.

"Guess what they got from the island?" Grayson taps his fingers on the counter absentmindedly as he smiles at me.

"No way," I smile, taking a bite of the peach. I let the sweet juice cover my mouth before nodding. "You're not lying."

I quickly eat the rest of the peach and give Grayson some pieces too. After that, I'm completely full. Ever since the island, I've had no appetite. Most likely because I ate so little on the island. By now I'm practically a twig.

Grayson has gained a lot of weight since we got back and it getting closer and closer to how he was before the crash, except he has one thing added on. With his his injury on his chest, he won't be able to do things that he used to do. He can't swim too fast, can't run more than a mile at a time, can't laugh too hard or it hurts and he coughs up blood. Anything that really gets his heart rate up should be avoided, the doctors said.

We are both hurt so much from the island. But the island brought us together.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

I'm sitting next to Grayson, head on his lap as he plays with my hair. While I'm laying there, I'm thinking of the many things I'll never be able to do again.

So far the list is at 83.

As I'm making my list longer and longer, my phone buzzes continuously, showing that someone is calling me. Weird, nobody's called me in a long time.

I look over to the caller ID. Maybe it's Frankie?

Birthgiver :)

I laugh at the name I gave my mom years ago. I still haven't changed it. She hasn't called me since before the accident, and a while before it.
Why would she be calling me now?

I reach for the phone and lace my fingers around it, pulling it up slowly as I try to guess why she's calling me.

I hesitantly press the accept button and wait for her voice to show up.

"Y/n, you're okay," she sighs.

"Yeah, and I have been for a while. What's going on? Why are you calling me?" I ask, my eyebrows knitting with confusion. Grayson walks next to me.

"Well, I don't know if you will like this idea, but it's for your health. No matter what you say, you're doing it and I'm making you," she explains without even saying what she was calling me for.

"What are you going to make me do?" I question, frightened.

"Y/n, you're moving back to Philly."

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────