(Formerly known as "When Our Paths Crossed")
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A tale of two lost souls brought together by pain, grief and trauma.
Atlas tries to find a place in a world he's worked so hard to escape. Elijah struggles to balance the life he's building and the...
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MY STAY AT the hospital quickly became torture. I couldn't leave my bed, and when I did, I had to use a wheelchair because my legs are officially useless. When I need to take a piss, a nurse has to come in and help. Something he insists won't always be necessary. Eventually, I'll get enough strength in my upper body to maneuver from the chair to the toilet. Right now, it's humiliating.
Besides, I don't want to strengthen my upper body to lift my useless bottom half out of a chair. I don't want any of this.
Aside from my bum legs, the rest of my body heals up nicely. I had a minor concussion, a few cracked ribs, a broken arm, and... oh yeah, a broken heart. The arm and the heart are still on the mend, but at least now, I don't have to be woken up every couple of hours to make sure I'm still breathing.
The pain meds they have me on are basic and the bare minimum in terms of dosage. June flat out refused to put me on anything stronger because of my history with drugs, and the doctors all agreed. It would have been nice, though, to be put on something stronger. Even if it's dulled, I am still very aware the pain is there. It hovers just on the edge of the numbing from the meds, waiting until it wears off to attack.
"Hey, you," June says in a chipper voice.
Ever since I woke up, she's either pretending to forget or ignore my outburst. She comes in every day before or after work, toeing little Sammy along with her. Usually, it's to drop off some clothes and some more food (the hospital stuff is about as bland as you can imagine). June doesn't cook much, and even when she does, it's less edible than the shit they serve here. So, I've been living off fast food now for a week and a half.
Dan's twin hasn't made an appearance since the night I woke up.
"Hey," I mutter, flipping through the channels.
I temporarily have the room to myself, so it's nice and quiet, and I can turn the TV up as loud as I want, though the staff walking by all shoot me annoyed looks. She kisses my forehead and sets a grease-stained McDonald's bag and coffee in front of me. Sammy gurgles happily at me, his little hand clenching and unclenching in a floppy wave. I smile and wiggle my fingers back at him.
"Bon appetit," she says, plopping into the chair beside my bed. "I only have a few minutes today before I drop Sammy off at daycare. I figured you needed something to kill time, so I got you these books."
I raise my eyebrows at her as she plops three books on the table next to the McDonald's bag. "Reading? No thanks."
"It's good for you," June pushes on, ignoring my eye roll. "It's better brain stimulation than the garbage that's on TV."
"Really?" I lift a book and wave it at her. "'Learning to See Past Limitations of a Wheelchair.'" Barf, no thanks." I drop the book on the table and grab the bag. "If you wanted me to read, at least pick something that isn't self-help nonsense."
