Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
ONE WEEK LATER
ROSALIA
Verona and I have been watching movies and she’s trying to keep me from getting annoyed since I can’t move around.
To be honest, I keep falling asleep so I couldn’t tell you what the movies are about.
I still have an IV for antibiotics and other medications so I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere either way.
However, I am still beginning to feel antsy.
Each of my pack members have been sitting separately with me throughout the week, keeping me from feeling overwhelmed.
“I want to see my back,” I tell Verona. I have this urge deep inside of me to see it, and they’re the first words out of my mouth when I wake up from another nap. My voice is sleepy as I yawn, and I tuck my right hand underneath my head.
It’s as if the request came from a dream and Verona scrambles off the floor where she’s reading a book.
“Rosa…I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Dr. Walsh taught them how to keep the wounds clean and dry whenever he can’t be here, but I haven’t been able to see how bad it is yet.
“I need to know,” I insist.
Her eyes close for a moment, and I can feel her gathering herself through the bond as she finally nods.
“Okay.” Opening her eyes, she grabs her phone and stands. My heartbeat speeds up at how quickly she agreed, but then, of anyone, she’s always been in my corner.
I say what I mean, and mean what I say with her. There have been times in our lives where that hasn’t been true, but she knows it was done to protect her.
Taking a deep breath, she angles the phone above me and takes a few photos. I have to keep my left shoulder down and relaxed because I can feel some of the cuts there. Dr. Walsh is slowly reducing my pain medication as things heal.
Vero gazes down at the photos before she kneels down beside me.
“It’s bad,” I confirm without seeing them.
“They’re…hateful,” she mutters. “If I could kill them all again, I would.”
Dario and Pablo have both said the same thing, but sometimes revenge has to take a backseat in a crisis.
“Let me see, Verona,” I murmur. I rarely use her actual name, and her nose wrinkles before she turns the screen so I can see.
“This is your shoulder,” she says, leaning over to explain it to me. One of the dickheads carved his name into my skin. As she continues through the photos, I see there’s another full fucking name, a dick, various forms of slurs, and general destruction to my back.
I clearly wasn’t supposed to survive this.
Blinking rapidly, I take an unsteady breath and begin to think. I can’t cry anymore. My eyes resemble dry buttholes, and they hurt all the time. Vero has been putting eyedrops in for me and I’ve been sucking on cough drops to help with my sore throat.
There are mini abrasions inside my mouth and throat from the forced entry of the men who bought me, and my vocal cords are fucked from screaming so much.
Basically, I am a mess. However, I don’t have to stay that way.
“Will you call Dr. Walsh for me?” I ask, my voice breaking. Fuck.
“Yeah.” Vero blinks rapidly as well, her breaths uneven as she hits the doctor’s number. He immediately requests a video call once he answers, and Vero widens her eyes before she accepts it. “Rosa would like to speak to you, Doctor. Do you have some time?”
“I told all of my other patients with life threatening injuries to fuck off this week,” he says. “I have time.”
A bubble of amusement flits through me before it’s gone, and then Vero sets the phone up so I can speak to him. It should feel odd to speak to people while I’m essentially naked, but I don’t have it in me to care.
“Hi. I have some questions.”
“I had a feeling you might,” he says. “Have you seen your back yet?”
“I just did.” Breathe. God, I’m such a wreck. “Is it vain to think about how I look like Frankenstein? I’m going to scare children.”
“It’s just while you’re healing. There are things we can do to minimize how much scarring can be seen.”
“A part of it is less about others seeing it and more about knowing I’ll carry a visual representation of those assholes on my skin,” I reply.
My memories are back after the initial fuzziness, and I can remember everything that was said and done to me.
“Even though they planned to drop me in the furnace afterward, they made sure to mark their claim on my skin first.”
“I noticed the names they left behind,” Dr. Walsh says.
“We can work with a reconstruction surgeon to determine if skin grafts are a good option for you. We won’t be able to use your skin due to the large area, but there are other options.
I’ve started doing research on it already.
It’s outside of my scope of expertise, yet I knew you’d want to know what your options are.
You won’t have to live with the visual memories on your skin.
“The ones in your mind though are a different story.”
“I haven’t had nightmares, not yet. This feels different than what happened before…”
We are both beating around the bush. While I was suicidal moving up to the wedding, it wasn’t only because of the rapes. Having no control over your body or future is enough to beat anyone down.
However, I have never been this close to death before. I don’t want to die, but the mind does awful things until that feels like the only way out of the torture.
I don’t want that to happen to me.
“It is different for many reasons,” Dr. Walsh sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
He’s not wearing his glasses, and his dark eyes are full of shadows.
“Whether you wear the scars forever or not, it doesn’t change what happened to you.
The woman responsible for this is still free, and that’s a problem.
You’re going to need to have guards with you at all times.
That alone will be difficult for someone just beginning to enjoy their freedom. ”
This means I can’t walk a few houses down from our house alone, and the safe room may have to be used because Avery knows where I live.
Dr. Walsh watches as his words sink in before he continues. “This being said, skin grafts and plastic surgery aren’t going to be perfect. The damage is still going to remain in your mind. I’d like for you to speak to someone about what you went through.”
“There are very few people who can handle my trauma,” I mutter. “Having someone rock in a corner back and forth as I tell them about why I like to kill people doesn’t seem to be a good use of anyone’s time.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Dr. Walsh snorts under breath, and I crack a smile.
“It’s nice to see you’re still impossible, Rosalia.
It’s less the kind of therapy where you tell people how your mother tried to drown you as a child and more so working through this specific event.
Mr. Easton Mayor has come by the house more than once, and I asked him about therapists that specialize in traumatic experiences. ”
Since Easton works with the police, it makes sense that he might have recommendations for therapists.
“Your pack has had a steady stream of visitors, and I have complained enough about the state of your home that they’ve been getting their shit together,” he grunts.
“We just moved in,” I remind him.
“Well, it’s been several weeks. You don’t need to be unboxing shit. Sitting on their asses does nothing.”
“He’s not wrong,” Vero joins in. “The delivery truck came back yesterday and finished delivering things. They refused to allow us to pay for the delivery and asked about you.”
“Really?” I ask curiously. “I’m kind of surprised about that.”
“I was too. The guys are stuck when it comes to decorating. Since movies make you fall asleep, maybe we can run up their credit cards instead,” she smirks.
“I can get behind this,” I decide. “Dr. Walsh, how healed do you think my cuts need to be before I can have skin grafts?”
If it’s going to be awhile, I may as well do something productive to help my restlessness.
“I need to come by later today to cut the stitches so they can continue to heal. I ran home for more clothing,” he explains.
“I pushed your pack to furnish the bedrooms first because I’ve been sleeping on a blow up mattress.
Also, that insufferable doctor finally went home.
He’s a fucking psych doctor, and he kept calling me old. ”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. I’ve been hearing stories about how Riley and Dr. Walsh have been fighting. Riley isn’t just a psych doctor, and also works in the emergency department. He’s well equipped to help, but his opinions have been loud from what I’ve been hearing.
The Five Packs and Nina’s pack have come to mean a lot to me, and I appreciate that they’re all so invested in my recovery.
“It’s fine,” he grumbles. “As for when we can do skin grafts, I need to check my emails to see who has gotten back to me. I’ll double check their credentials, and then schedule a video call so they can see how your back is healing. A decision will be made from there.”
So wait and see. Got it.
“It shouldn’t be too long,” he says, as he watches my face fall. “Do you want me to talk to you about your blood test results now or later?”
“Now is fine. This conversation is keeping me from feeling drowsy. I swear, I can’t stay awake for long.”
“Healing is hard work,” Dr. Walsh says with a shrug.
“What kind of damage did all of the shit Avery injected into my body do?” I ask, intent to rip the bandaid off.