Page 7 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

And it’s starting to piss me off. Where I remembered that phrase from, I also have no idea.

I continue down the hall, past the nurse’s station, hoping to slip by unnoticed.

“Jessica, hold on a second,” a soft female voice calls my name.

So close…

I pivot to face her a little too quickly and grab the door jamb when the hallway tilts just slightly to the left. My balance settles as quickly as I lost it. But Nurse Lila is already reaching over the half door to assist me.

“I’m fine,” I say before she can ask.

“I caught that, Jessica,” she replies gently.

She’s one of the people here who watches me with careful focus. But she also keeps it real with me. And I like her.

Keeps it real. Again, origin unknown.

“Let’s get your weekly checkup out of the way.” She guides me into her small exam room.

I sit and seconds later, the blood pressure cuff is on my arm, a blood oxygen meter is squeezing my finger, and she’s running the electronic thermometer across my forehead.

“Any dizziness this morning?”

“Just the usual.” That earns me a look.

I have a traumatic brain injury, after all. Moments like this are expected. It’s the disability I’ve learned to live with.

“I like that blouse you got on today. Another gift from your sister?” She smiles down at me.

“Yeah.” I glance at the blue-and-white striped shirt with ruffled sleeves. “Lourdes keeps sending me clothes.”

“Will she and that husband of hers be back soon?”

The way the women here talk about Lourdes’s husband, Ares Zervas, is shameful. I’m still getting a handle on those kinds of feelings. For men. I’ve felt nothing this whole time. For five years. Maybe because my only exposure to men since my accident has been to ones like Janitor Steve.

Ares was a bit of a jolt to my system. No one told me not to be all gooey-eyed over my sister’s husband. That was just instinctual, I guess.

“I don’t know when they’ll be back.” I narrow my eyes at Nurse Lila. “They’re on their honeymoon.”

“Ah.” She nods like she knows their story. “Your dizziness today, hun? One to ten?”

“Four.” I’ve learned how to work the system.

A low number will give me my usual freedom. Even if it’s really a seven. I adjust by walking carefully and speaking carefully. My speech is still impaired. I had to learn to talk again after the accident. Now, I just speak slower so my injuries are not as noticeable.

Nurse Lila reads me my vitals like the numbers mean something to me. They don’t. But she’s not calling for any backup or coming at me with those chest paddles I’ve seen her use on Tilly.

I’d been told I could leave here one day. Live on my own. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that, but independence is a goal. Start a life for myself. Lourdes is married again to a nice man who’s been very good to her. And to me.

As the nurse removes the blood pressure cuff and the finger torture device, she says, “We’re adjusting your meds today. Dr. Waters put in the order.”

And here I felt today was a good day. I don’t like the meds. But I can’t say no.

Nurse Lila hands me a small paper cup with two pills and another cup with a sip of water. I take the meds without arguing, tilt my head back, and swallow. The usual chalky taste lingers unpleasantly on my tongue.

“Let’s get a quick draw of blood too while you’re here,” she adds.

I close my eyes for a second, resisting the urge to groan. “Sure.”