8. six
six
. . .
ASPEN
The first thing I noticed upon waking was that my entire body screamed in pain, like I’d been run over by a train.
I’d barely cracked my eyelids only to slam them shut against light threatening to blind me. On top of feeling like my body was a giant bruise, my head pounded like a jackhammer had taken up residence in my skull.
Breathing deeply, I willed the throbbing in my brain to recede enough to fully open my eyes. My other senses began to pick up on the happenings around me, and I strained my ears, attempting to figure out where the fuck I was and why.
First, I took stock of myself. I laid on my right side on a semi-soft surface, and any shifting around made my left pull and pulse, like my skin was rubbed raw and blistered. My throat ached, and my mouth felt stuffed with cotton.
Beeping. Low, murmured voices. The squeak of rubber-soled shoes on the floor.
When the searing pain in my skull dulled to a slightly more manageable ache, I attempted to open my eyes again.
As soon as my lids parted, a yelp sounded from somewhere nearby and a moment later, a woman’s face filled my vision .
I knew that face well. The same cinnamon colored eyes set in my own face stared back at me.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathed.
“Mom?”
“You’re okay, honey. You were in a f-fire.” She choked on the last word.
My heart stopped, then shattered.
Oh, not again.
Without thinking, I reached for her, but my progress was stalled by the IV plugged into the back of my hand. Forlornly, I let it drop to the bed at my side, but Mom reached for it anyway, clasping me so tightly it hurt, tugging at the needle buried in my vein. I winced, but didn’t let go.
The pain reminded me I was here, still breathing.
Reminded me that my parents hadn’t lost their only remaining child—in the same way they’d lost the other one, no less.
My dad appeared behind Mom a moment later. His expression was…haggard, his normally clean-shaven face sporting prickly silver stubble. His skin sagged, and dark circles had taken up residence under his eyes. Warm brown hair, the same shade as mine, was limp and greasy. Mom looked much the same. Worn out and in dire need of some self-care.
Both of them had tears in their eyes, which swam with fear and pain and heartbreak.
Fuck. I hated that I was the reason for them.
“What happened?” I croaked. My throat was ravaged, and I had distant memories of screaming until I was convinced my lungs were bleeding.
I squeezed my eyes shut once more, hoping to stave off the onslaught of images that assaulted me.
Bindings on my wrists and ankles.
A windowless room and a cold concrete floor.
Gnawing hunger pains in my stomach .
Flames and heat.
Searing pain along my side.
Begging for anyone to save me.
And finally, an amorphous mass approaching me through the blaze, and gentle words in a gruff voice soothing me as best as they could, assuring me I’d be okay.
I was grateful the owner of that voice had kept that promise, because I was alive, and that was good enough for now.
“Ah, Miss McKay,” someone said from the doorway, and I whipped my head in that direction, wincing as the sudden movement made my brain throb again. “Good to see you awake and alert.”
It took a moment for my vision to clear, but when it did, I found a man standing there in a white doctor’s coat with a clipboard in hand.
“What happened?” I asked again. “How long have I been here?” My panic rose the longer I went without answers.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been injured on the job, but it was the first time things had felt so…bleak.
The doctor approached my bedside, his smile wide and welcoming if unnaturally white. He had warm brown eyes and dark hair that was more grey than brunette.
“You were in an accident last night.”
I scoffed, or tried to, but it really came out as more of a choking sob. An accident was a…diplomatic and polite way of putting it.
“What day is it?”
“Sunday morning.”
Okay, that eased some of my panic. Good to know I hadn’t been unconscious for an extended period of time. I’d been at the bar on Friday night, which meant that fucker had held me captive for an entire day before leaving me in that building to die. My memory was so goddamn foggy, I was having difficulty remembering anything but flashes of the last thirty-six hours .
When I didn’t respond, my mother asked, “What’s the prognosis?”
“In addition to a large contusion on the back of her head that caused a minor concussion”— that explained the headache —“Aspen also sustained burns to roughly fifteen percent of her body, localized to her left posterior. They’re mostly superficial, medically speaking,” he tacked on as I opened my mouth to protest. There was nothing superficial about this level of pain. “Meaning, the wounds aren’t so wide or deep that grafts will be necessary. I’m not going to lie, you’ll have significant scarring, but they’ll heal over on their own.”
“Exactly how bad are they, though?” I croaked. I knew there were levels—degrees—to burns. I’d be marked by this trauma for life, in more ways than one, but I wanted to know exactly how deeply these physical scars would run.
“Mostly second degree with slight areas of third,” the doctor said, studying the papers in his hands. “You were very fortunate, Miss McKay.”
Funny , I thought. I don’t feel fortunate .
“So what’s the treatment plan?” Dad asked.
“I understand it’s not ideal, but we’ll be keeping you for a few weeks.”
“ A few weeks ?” I screeched.
He nodded solemnly. “This is a very precarious time in your healing journey. We need to ensure you’re in a sterile environment and receiving routine and proper care in regards to medication and bandage changes. Plus there’s the matter of the concussion, which we’d like to monitor to ensure it doesn’t become more severe. What’s your pain level at right now?”
Before I could answer, Mom sputtered, “That’s outrageous! She would be much better off coming home with us. Don’t you think? Tell her, Donald,” she urged my dad.
The doctor merely shook his head. “I understand the desire to want your daughter under your care, but I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” I asked. I was growing exhausted by this whole production, my energy rapidly waning.
God, I needed a fucking glass of water, the strongest painkillers this place could legally give me, and to sleep for the next two weeks.
The doctor gave me a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, Miss McKay, but you remaining under our care is truly in your best interest.”
“I agree,” I said, and my mother inhaled a gasp, as though I’d deeply wounded her by daring to agree with my doctor . Then I added, “And my pain level is probably an eight. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a nap.”
I was out before my eyes fully closed.
When I awoke next, the sky beyond the window of my room had darkened to that hazy orange-pink before dusk, gilding the mountains in a golden glow that reminded me, unfortunately, of fire.
I gave into a shiver and averted my gaze, then took stock of myself yet again.
The room was silent, meaning everyone had left—including my parents. Likely, they’d gone to freshen up while I rested.
I had no idea how long I’d slept, though long enough that my entire body was stiff from lack of movement. Then again, that could also be attributed to the fact that I was confined to this hospital bed. The pain in my head had dimmed from a sharp stabbing to a dull ache that went a long way to making me feel more alert.
Thankfully, I had the room to myself. The exit was on my left, window to my right, and a small TV was mounted high on the wall directly in front of me. Below was a whiteboard with scribbled notes regarding my condition, as well as a bulletin board tacked with numerous medical announcements and drug advertisements.
My mouth was still so dry you’d think I hadn’t even heard the word “water” in several weeks, and the pressure on my bladder had reached painful levels. I was both surprised and pleased I didn’t have a catheter.
As gingerly as I could, I shifted until I could reach the remote with the call button that rested on the small bedside table to my right.
Not long after I pressed it, a nurse shuffled in, smiling brightly at me.
“Hello, Miss McKay. What can I do for you?”
“Aspen,” I said around my sore throat. “Please call me Aspen.”
She winked. “Okay, Aspen. I’m Sonya.”
“Nice to meet you, Sonya. I’d really love some water,” I wheezed. “But first, I have to pee.”
Her laugh as she approached me was a musical little tinkle that settled some of my anxiety. As gently as she could, she drew back the covers and shifted my legs over the edge of the mattress, careful not to go anywhere near my left side. I wasn’t sure how far the burns extended, but I could feel the sting of them along my ribs as I moved around. With a deep breath and Sonya’s hands under my arms, we managed to get me on my feet.
And I damn near collapsed, my legs feeling as strong as jelly, and only Sonya’s support kept me upright.
With aching slowness, we shuffled across the room to the small bathroom in the corner by the door. Modesty went out the window as I gathered my hospital gown around my waist, pulled down the mesh underwear they’d dressed me, and gingerly lowered onto the commode chair. I hissed as my backside made contact with the seat. Fuck, I even had burns on my ass .
Being an invalid was fucking humbling.
Once that task was completed, we got me settled back into bed, Sonya propping some pillows up against my back to make resting on my right side more comfortable. Then she brought me a small Styrofoam cup of water with a lid and a straw.
“Small sips,” she instructed. “You don’t want to make yourself sick.”
Tentatively, I stuck the straw between my lips and sucked. The cool liquid was heaven on my tongue, and a moan slipped free.
“Good?” Sonya asked with a knowing grin.
“Best water I’ve ever tasted.”
That laugh echoed around us again. “I’m going to go see if I can scrounge you up some soup from the cafeteria. I’m assuming you have no idea when you last ate.”
“Please. I don’t even know what day it is,” I joked.
“Sunday,” she said with a wink before she disappeared.
After a few more sips of water, I set the cup on the tray at my side and closed my eyes. The trip to the bathroom had sapped nearly all of my energy, and I doubted I’d be awake when Sonya returned.
But I tried.
In an effort to see exactly where my injuries began and ended, I reached my right arm across my body and gently probed my left side, bending my left arm at an awkward angle that pulled at my skin. From what I could tell, the burns began midway down my ribcage and extended down my thigh, a few inches below the curve of my ass. The bandages felt too hot against my fingertips, like my skin was still on fire. Dropping my arm, I closed my eyes once again. I was so damn exhausted, right down to the very marrow of my bones.
I hovered on the edge of unconsciousness, wondering what kind of mess I had gotten myself into.