“Yes,” I whisper, grateful no one comments on the warble of my words.
I sit and stare at the wall as Nurse Laurell takes the bloody rags that I haphazardly wrapped around my wounds, her lips pinched to keep any sound from coming out. Probably because the infection is bad, worse than I realize, and I wouldn’t be shocked if they smell like rotting flesh at this point.
All I can smell is burning wood and the metallic tang of blood.
The nurse is a trooper for not letting on how bad things are, I’ll give her that.
She disinfects, cleans, and gives me a shot of antibiotics that I mutely sit through. I’m practically swaying with exhaustion, damn near rocking from side to side in my seat, and just as my head starts to bob, a protein bar is pressed into my hand.
I choke out a sob as I look down at it, reminded all over again of my last moments with my pack. Reminded of everything I lost, and how I will never find that again.
Yet, even as the tears flow freely and I border on hysterical, I open the damn package and force myself to take small bites. My mouth is full of saliva from both the extreme hunger and my tears, causing me to choke as I chew, but I don’t stop until the stupid protein bar is gone.
Thankfully, neither woman mentions it, they don’t even acknowledge what just happened aside from handing me water as well.
The last thing I want is sympathy when I can barely find the will to live. I don’t even know what I want right now, but this seems to be the place for me to figure my shit out.
Nurse Laurell is gentle as I zone out, staring at nothing as my tears finally subside, and she stills once she’s done.
“I’d like to come back tomorrow to check on these and run some tests,” she says softly. “You look like a stiff breeze could blow you over, so I don’t want to do it now. I also have a feeling you’re severely dehydrated, and I want to start you on intravenous fluids and another round of antibiotics as soon as I can.”
All of that barely registers.
It’s almost like she’s speaking another language.
But I nod instead of dragging this out any longer, deciding that I’ll deal with it tomorrow in case I just accidentally sold what’s left of my soul to the nice nurse.
That’s probably the worst thing that could happen right now, and it doesn’t seem half bad.
Not much more could go wrong in my life at this point.
“Thank you, Laurell, for coming so quickly,” Aurelia murmurs before turning to me. “I’m going to be here till six in the morning and then Aisling will take over. She’s amazing and one of the co-founders for Omega’s Haven, Olive. Let’s walk you back to the shelter and get you settled.”
“I’ll let myself out,” the nurse says quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Olive.”
Standing takes some effort, more than I’d like to admit thanks to the wounds on my arms, hands, and face reminding me of how much it hurts to move. I do it though, because there’s no one here to carry me everywhere, no one who’ll make sure I do what I’m supposed to in order to care for myself.
Fuck, I miss them so much.
The tears start up again as I follow Aurelia through the common room and I can’t stop crying as we head down a hallway. She has keys that allow us entrance, and it makes me very aware of how much security they have here. That helps settle me some since I still don’t know what the fuck happened, and just when I’m feeling like I might be able to let my guard down, the night manager does something that floors me.
“What’s your favorite color?” she asks, opening a closet door.
The question seems to come from left field, and I blink slowly at her, trying to remember what the hell colors are, let alone whether or not I have a favorite.
So, I blurt the first one that comes to mind. “Black.”
“Perfect,” she says, picking up a crocheted blanket. “These are weighted and should help you sleep. Everyone receives their own room here, which means you’ll have your own space. There’s everything you could ever need here, but I’ll let Aisling give you the full tour. Here is a bag of items to get you started, and when you’re up to it, you’re welcome to come find items from our clothes closet. These are all new, donated items that you can take with you. It’s hard to start over, the least we can do is help you feel safe.”
I nod and give her a small thank you because I genuinely appreciate all of this, but I’m not sure there is anything that’s going to make me feel that way.
After the past few days, I might never feel safe again.
Two months later
Lifting my eyes from my sketchbook, I can barely hide my smile as a little red rubber ball comes bouncing into my room, quicklyfollowed by a bouncy little boy with bright blue eyes and a head full of curls.
“Hey, little dude.”
