Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
BLUE
Nobody wants to hear about all the shit their body has been through for the past I don't even know how many days. And nobody wants to hear that especially when they're in tremendous pain and struggling to stay awake.
To be honest, I zone out a little at the beginning while he talks about being dehydrated, starved, and in serious need of warming up. But when the doctor mentions my concussion, the bruise on my cheek, and the laceration on my forehead, that final moment of normalcy I had comes rushing back to me.
I force my heart to stay steady so as not to send the testosterone around me into a tizzy, but god, just the fucking mention of being punched and falling to the ground is enough for me to remember the loud crack as my face hit the concrete.
Sprawled on the ground outside the theater, I was so fucking ready for my life to end. Looking back and really thinking about how prepared I was to let it all go makes me want to cry.
I've lived so many years providing that I judged my time by what I had accomplished for Violet.
My support system was hers, too; she had a solid home, money, dreams, and happiness.
Everything I sacrificed for her to have.
I would do it again, but my thought when I was ready to let go and die was that I had done everything already, so I'm no longer needed.
So fucked up.
I should have invested in therapy a long time ago. Levi loves his counselor, so why the hell have I been denying my need to get some help?
Well, it's just going to have to wait because, by the sounds of it, my body has enough shit to deal with.
Bruising and swelling around my neck make my throat sensitive and incredibly painful. The concussion is the main thing the doctor stresses. That as well as proper nutrition and comfort.
"So, pizza and a White Claw are not acceptable?" Jared asks, sounding genuinely upset for me.
Laughter bubbles up, and I ignore the fiery pain as I let out a whoosh of air.
I turn and offer Jared a smile of appreciation.
By the way he twists his mouth, I wonder if I didn't do a good job of hiding the ache in my neck.
Everything aches, so they'll just have to get used to seeing me flinch and cringe.
"I'm not the food police," the doctor says, winking at me. "But because of the pain meds you will be prescribed, there will be stipulations when it comes to alcohol. Drink water and just eat."
He goes on to talk about my bruised ribs, four missing fingernails, popped blood vessels in my right eye, and the abundance of scratches and cuts along my entire body.
I can't look away from their faces. Roman, Felix, Jared, and Declan. They're really here.
I'm ignoring that my first request when I woke up was to see them. The fact that I felt like I needed them immediately has a lot of layers, but I'm too tired to think about it.
So much of me needs a good cry, but all my eyes can do is take them in. All four of them are in need of a shave. Their clothes are ruined with dirt and rips. Dark circles shadow their eyes, and there's a feeling of sheer exhaustion radiating from them that I'm surprised to notice.
I thought I was the only one who felt beaten and had been isolated for a year. These four look like they've gone ten rounds with a tall mountain while on the run from a pack of wild wolves. So much so that they've become their own pack of wild wolves.
The undercurrent of dominant male energy is the only thing keeping me awake.
I heard what the nurse said. His apology struck me right in the heart after hearing about why he was giving the guys a hard time.
I understood his pain. The cards life dealt me turned me into an angry person for a while, too.
I hope Declan's gentle yet firm scolding will give him something to think about.
I hate that he, the nurse, was ghosted and blocked. I hate that I was as well. Nobody ever told me to calm my attitude or watch my tone, though. I just kept sinking deeper and deeper into the pit of simmering rage and self-sacrifice.
I'll never resent Violet. Were there times I cried in the shower because of how hungry I was? Yes. And other times I screamed into my pillow because I got upset with teenage V being mad at me for not getting her the newest cellphone? Yes.
I don't think I realized I was a parent or a mother until we moved out. We were smothered beneath Linda's stench and shadow, so all I had on my mind was survival and redirecting the bullshit from Violet.
She has been calling me mama for a long ass time, but I didn't really feel like it until we were alone and we could blossom just the two of us. She's my kid. And I'm damn proud of the woman she's becoming.
Oh god.
"V-Viiii," I wheeze out painfully. Have they called her? Does she know I'm alive? That I chose to fight so we could have the future I fought so hard for?
Of course she doesn't know that, but is she here?
"Viol—"
A warm finger brushes my bottom lip in a move that sends heat zinging through my body. "Shh, sweetheart. I'm calling her in three minutes."
Felix's soothing voice does more for me than the scratchy sheet trying to warm me up. His attention and care settle me deeper into the hard mattress. As long as he continues to touch me, I'll be comfortable no matter what.
Worry pulls my eyebrows down, making my forehead throb and my brain pulse with aggravation. What will he tell her?
A knock on the door startles me enough that I jump and groan out a wheeze. The doctor says something about another dose of painkillers to go along with my water and tea.
I don't really care what he does, because I'm feeling discombobulated about how Violet will react to my being in the hospital.
A straw nudges my lips, replacing Felix's finger. When I pout, someone sticks it in my mouth and encourages me to drink.
I do, and it fucking hurts, but it also feels like heaven. It's pulled away too soon, but my sadness molds back into concern.
Will Violet be okay?