Page 111 of Theta

"He's everything, Dad."

"Then I am glad for you. This love between you will do more to heal you from all you have experienced than anything else. This is my experience with your mother, at least. She has saved my soul. I would have been lost to the horrors of my life already, if not for her." His tone changes, goes brusque. "I must focus on driving so I can bring your mother to you safely. Rest, okay?"

"God, if one more person tells me to rest. Ugh!"

He laughs. "You will hear it many more times while you are healing. I know this from experience. You will be sick of it."

"I already am."

“Ich weiss.” A pause. "Ich liebe dich, meine Tochter."

"Love you too, Dad."

"We will be there as fast as flight will allow. Sleep, now."

The line clicks as he hangs up, and I let my eyes slide closed—and it's only now that I truly realize the full weight of the burden of fear I was carrying.

Dr. Lia sweeps in a bit later; more asleep than awake, I’m only partially aware as she takes my temperature and blood pressure, checks my wounds, and adjusts the dosage of the meds on the IV.

She recovers her phone and then crouches beside me, murmuring quietly, "Your young man, Killian. I have stitched his wounds. There is no internal damage, but his scapula is badly broken. The bullet which passed through his arm was a low…ehh…velocità.” She frowns, thinking. "Velocity. It was a low velocity bullet, so the damage to his muscles is not so very terrible. In time, with fisioterapia, he will probably not know any lasting problems."

"The infection?" I ask, mumbling, half asleep.

"Treating with the antibiotic. No problem. Fever is lowering already. You are the more bigger concern. Four of your ribs were…" she explodes her fingers. "Rotto molto gravemente. Um. Shatter. Like a clay jar. You are molto, molto fortunato that your lung was not poked through." She shakes her head. "You are a very strong woman."

I don't feel strong.

I feel emotionally ravaged, mentally exhausted, and physically destroyed.

I want my mom and dad.

I want Killian to hold me.

I can't have either of those things, yet.

All I can do is sleep.

19

Blame It On The Painkillers

Everything is a jumble that I'm only vaguely aware of.

Dr. Lia's face. Dante. A pretty, young Italian nurse in pale green scrubs checking my temperature and blood pressure. Being moved, fluorescent lights overhead, the casters of the hospital bed rattling. More lights. Different doctors. A mask being placed over my mouth and nose and the nasty scent of fake banana, and then nothingness.

When my eyes open again, it's to a dull throb of pain all up and down my left side, pulsing at my shoulder and hip. My arm is immobilized in a sling, and bandages wrap around my midsection, low over my hip.

I feel achy, sweaty, and diabolically thirsty. I need a drink of water more than just about anything…except to see Story.

Someone comes in, checks the meds on the IV. "You are hurting?" This nurse is a little older, more middle-aged, with a cool, delicate touch.

"A bit."

"More drug?"

"Per favore."

"Italiano! Very good!" She adjusts something, and a slow numbing warmth spreads through me. "That should help."