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I opened my eyes, letting them adjust to the light in the room. I awoke knowing what happened, but jerked anyway with the amount of activity I had to absorb since I’d been out. I heard my mother’s voice instantly.
“Oh, shit. I swore to your father I wouldn’t start crying when you woke up. Please forgive me.” My mother howled as she buried her head in my stomach and gripped my hand tightly. I wanted to laugh at her but knew how badly this had scared her. I lifted my arm that felt like lead and rubbed it against her hair. She dug in, causing one hell of scene for the people who passed by the room with curious looks on their faces.
“Mom…” Oh shit, talking hurt. My throat was sore and there was no way I was risking that pain trying to talk again. I tapped her head lightly and she looked up, ten years older than she was the last time I saw her. I gave her wide eyes to indicate her mere presence was hurting me. She seemed to get the clue and I thanked God as she removed herself from the bed, apologizing and crying.
I winced and my mother pushed a button connected to what I assumed was my pain medication. I felt the rush and suddenly felt like I could sing a musical.
Good shit.
“How bad?” I asked, pointing to my neck and head.
“You look like you’ve been hit by a Mack truck and drug down a gravel road, but you’ll make a full recovery.”
I chuckled at my mother’s antics. She was never one to sugarcoat anything, but laughing hurt.
I tried to keep my questions to one word. “Mirror?”
“Listen,” she said, rummaging through her purse, “your throat looks much worse than it is.”
Vanity had never been an issue or a flaw in me until that moment. I nodded, knowing I probably couldn’t handle what I saw. Still, I had to know what I had left to work with. She held a compact away from me and I motioned with my hands that I wanted it closer. I had blood stained hair, that’s what I noticed first. It was streaked pink and I let my eyes drift. The entire right side of my head was swollen and bruised and my eyes were black. Underneath my left eye was a series of cuts that had been stitched. I assumed that was where they had kicked me.
“He nicked your artery. The son of a bitch who cut your throat nicked it. You lost a lot of blood and Rhys found you just in time.” She was texting as she spoke. I pointed to her phone.
“Who?”
“Rhys. Oh, honey, Rhys has been here day and night for the last three days. He’s only gone now because he’s at your house having a security system installed.”
I moved the mirror down to my busted lips and then to my neck and let out a small cry. It was so much worse than what I had expected. There was a thin red line covering my throat that got thicker as it circled toward my ear where it was covered by a thick bandage. I closed the compact and nodded. I was alive. No matter what, these would just remain scars, not my cause of death, just nasty scars reminding me I had lived. My mother held my hand as I cried without sound. She stayed silent and my father came in shortly after, grabbing my hand on the other side of the bed. His eyes filled with tears.
“I knew you would make it, my little fighter. I knew it.” I nodded as my father’s soft cry filled the room and he held my hand tightly.
I got tired suddenly as the doctor came in to check me out. I drifted off to sleep minutes later.
I woke up well rested and saw my mother stir from her sleep as she noticed I’d awoken from mine. I was dying to see Rhys, to thank him. And as soon as the thought crossed my mind, he walked into the room and the air shifted, as it always did.
“Hello, Pam.” His smile was for my mother and she embraced him as if they’d known each other for years. How long was I out?
My mother beamed at him. “Rhys, you are a damn dream to look at. I swear, if I was twenty years younger and I knew you weren’t crazy about my daughter…”
Nice, Mom. I watched them go back and forth and he seemed as amused with her as he was with me. I noticed Rhys hadn’t looked my way one time. I cleared my aching throat and they both turned my direction, though my mother was the only one who was truly looking at me.
“Hi,” I said simply. “Mom, go away.” She and Rhys chuckled as she leaned over and kissed my cheek.
“I’ll be right outside.” She grabbed Rhys’s arm and caught his eyes then whispered to him. He nodded and turned my direction.
“Eyes on mine, Rhys.” It wasn’t the best time to use his words against him. His was clearly tortured by having to look at me. “I need to see them, please.” He looked at me then and I saw a man destroyed. He roved over my face and the cut on my neck and expelled a harsh breath.
My words came quickly. “So this happened and I’m not going to freak out. I’m alive and that’s what matters most, right?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, staring at the monitors.
“I’ll heal, Rhys. I won’t always look like the bride of Frankenstein.”
“I’m so sorry. It’s not that at all. I guess I’m just feeling a little guilty.” He met my eyes again. “I haven’t been very good to you lately.” He sighed, taking a seat next to me.
“Says who?” I asked, sitting up straight. “For who we are to each other for now, I’d say you have been giving me a dose of everything good.” I adjusted myself again on the bed, irritated with the limitations of my body. I was getting out of this bed by tomorrow if it was the last thing I did. “Speaking of dose, have you ever had morphine?” I clicked the button and the warmth spread through me. “I’m thankful for this experience alone. Whoo, baby.”
