12. Healing
12
Healing
O ne week later
“That’s it, come on, you can do it.”
Ever since the medications were lowered, Sasha has been here every damn day, pushing me to get better and back to myself. I have cussed her out so many times. Esmé hasn’t been here, and I don’t know the whole fact behind that or why the hell Raph has been quiet.
“You’re getting there! Gabriel, I know you can do it. We need you…”
Pain fills her eyes like she is trying to hold back tears. Something is wrong. I can feel it.
“Where the hell is Esmé, Sasha?” I snap, my frustration boiling over. “Why hasn’t she come to see me? What’s going on out there?”
Sasha flinches at my outburst, her hands clenching into fists. I can see she’s holding something back, and it drives me fucking insane. Her knuckles are white and shaking.
“Gabriel, please, just focus on getting better,” she pleads, but her voice trembles.
“Focus? You think I can just sit here and pretend everything’s fine while my sister’s MIA? What the hell are you hiding from me?” I can feel the anger coursing through me, a fire that burns hotter with every unanswered question.
“I’m not hiding anything! I swear!” she says, her voice cracking. But I see how she glances at her phone and how she’s been whispering to Raph when she thinks I’m not listening. It makes my blood boil even more.
“Then why won’t you tell me? Why is everyone just abandoning me here?” I shout, the sound echoing in the sterile room.
I can feel the tears of frustration welling up, mixing with the pain that refuses to leave me.
Sasha’s face crumples, and I can see the tears she’s been holding back.
“I just… I don’t want to overwhelm you,” she whispers, but it feels like a betrayal. I want to scream, throw something, lash out at the thought of something else in my world going wrong.
But deep down, I know this isn’t just about me. There’s something bigger at play, and it’s tearing them apart. I just need to get the fuck up and out of here.
“How are we doing in here?” The doctor’s voice cuts in. It sounds like nails scraping across a chalkboard.
“I need to get out of here.”
“Well, before we think about doing that… how are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling fucking fantastic. Like I am on top of the world. Like nothing even happened.”
“Let’s see where you are on walking.”
I glance up at Sasha, who is biting her nails down to a nub. She’s hiding something. I clenched my jaw together and squeezed the railing on the bed, pushing my weight up and standing on my own.
“Very good. This is a huge improvement for someone who has gone through what you have. I am amazed.”
He smiles and nods his head in approval.
“Now, walk a couple steps for me. Or until you can’t anymore.”
My toes wiggle in my grippy socks to make sure I have the strength and balance. I step. Placing one foot in front of the other. This time, I was on my own, with no help from Sasha or the damn nurses. My legs feel like jello, but I push through. I can feel the wind hitting my ass through this gown I am wearing, and I hope they enjoy the view.
I make it over to a chair in the room and sit down, resting and making sure I don’t over do it. Not here, not now in front of these people.
“Wow. That was almost perfect! Well done. I want to keep you here a few more days and ensure you’re ready.”
“No! Fuck no, I just did everything you asked me to. I want to go home.”
“Sir-”
“Sasha!”
She jumps, and her eyes fix on mine.
“Get my clothing and shoes. I am going home.”
“Think about this: you still need to heal and get strong…”
Sasha’s voice cracks to the point she doesn’t even finish speaking.
“Get me the damn papers to sign or something. I’m going home.”
“As you wish, sir.”
I can’t stay here any longer. I need to fucking breathe. I need to get back to work. I need to find Tormenta. Esmé needs me to be there for her.
Anger pulses through me like a live wire, igniting every nerve ending and making my muscles tense. My jaw is locked tight, and I can feel the vein on my forehead throbbing, a constant reminder of the frustration boiling inside.
I’ve been laid up for far too long, trapped in this state of limbo, and it’s driving me to the brink. I know that Sasha’s intentions are all nothing but good; she genuinely wants what’s best for me. But there’s this nagging feeling that something’s off—something she’s keeping from me. It gnaws at me, a relentless whisper growing louder each minute.
I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing a piece of the puzzle, and it’s eating me alive from the inside out. The uncertainty is suffocating, and I refuse to let it consume me. If she won’t open up and tell me what’s really going on, then I’ll take matters into my own hands. I’ll dig deep and uncover the truth myself, even if it means stepping into the darkness alone. No more waiting around; I need answers, and I’ll find them, no matter what it takes.
My question is: Why the fuck has Raph not said a damn thing? Why has he kept a distance between us?
As we finally leave the sterile confines of the hospital, a wave of relief washes over me. The fresh air feels invigorating, but there’s still this weight on my shoulders. I know I shouldn’t be pushing myself, but the thought of relying on anyone else is unbearable. I grab the cane they offered me, determined to use it to walk out of there on my own terms.
Sasha watches me with a mix of concern and admiration.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.
“Yeah, I need to,” I reply, gripping the cane tightly. Each step is a challenge, but I refuse to let it show.
I can feel the stares of the nurses and doctors as we make our way through the lobby, but I push through, focusing on the door ahead.
Once we get outside, the sunlight hits my face, my eyes clenched shut for a moment to adjust, and I take a deep breath. It feels like a small victory, even if I’m wobbling a bit… okay, hell, a little more than a bit. It will just take some getting used to.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her, even though my legs shake.
The weight on my cane eases some of the pain. My body screams for me to stop, but I do not dare to listen. I’m the one in control here. Remember that.
Sasha walks beside me, ready to catch me if I falter, but I’m determined to make it to the car on my own. The journey home feels like a metaphor for my recovery—slow and shaky, but with every step, I’m reclaiming a little bit of my independence. I can’t wait to be back in my own space, away from the hospital’s sterile walls and shithead doctors. That place was a different hell on its own. The constant beeping of monitors will haunt me in my dreams. I don’t even want to think about sleeping right now. I have slept enough to be awake for a year.
The car is silent, aside from the hum of the engine and the wind outside. She’s driving, her eyes fixed on the road, but I can tell her mind is elsewhere. The silence between us feels heavy, almost suffocating, as if the air is thick with unspoken words and hidden emotions. I notice her fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel, a small but telling sign of her inner turmoil.
She glances at her phone, her fingers hesitating, before she answers. When Raph’s name flashes on the screen, I notice her heartbeat quicken, a flicker of something—fear? Guilt?—crossing her face. She puts the call on speaker, and I can’t help but notice how her voice wavers just a bit when she tells him he’s on.
“Hey, Raph,” she says, but there’s an edge to her tone that wasn’t there before.
His voice comes through, but it sounds different—more guarded, like he’s choosing his words carefully.
“Hey, everything okay?”
I’m watching her closely, trying to read their unspoken tension. There’s a heaviness in the air, and I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this conversation than meets the eye. The way she shifts in her seat, the way her eyes dart to me and then back to the road, it all feels like a puzzle I’m not quite able to piece together. What is she hiding? And why does Raph’s voice sound so… off? I can’t make sense of it, and the confusion only deepens as I try to understand what’s really going on.
As the conversation continues, I notice her responses become shorter, almost curt, as if she’s trying to end the call as quickly as possible. My mind races with questions, each one more unsettling than the last. The silence that follows each of her replies is deafening, filled with the weight of things unsaid.
What could be so important that she’s trying to keep it from me? And why do I feel like whatever it is, it’s going to change everything? What could be so damn big that they feel the need to keep it from me?