Chapter 39 Misaligned
Misaligned
Lily-Anne
I’m wheeled through an endless maze of pale-green corridors, doors gliding past while I stay helplessly still. It’s real. And it’s happening to me.
The gurney rattles with every seam in the linoleum, each jolt sending a flicker of pain up my leg.
It’s been four terrible days of lying in bed trying not to think about my foot being broken, the bones sitting in the wrong place, and being visited by paranoid nightmares about them fusing together and healing crooked. I can’t stand it. I need this to be over.
It doesn’t make the prospect of being operated on any more reassuring.
They’ll keep me in for a few days after surgery to monitor me.
That’s if I don’t die.
“Don’t say shit like that!” Ellenor scolded.
I apologised automatically, my eyes glazing over the consent forms, the words blurring together.
“Would you like to know more about the procedure?” the kind doctor asked.
I’d said no, and she nodded sympathetically…only to go through every possible complication anyway.
Infection.
Blood clots.
Chronic pain.
Ellenor wanted the doctor to guarantee that I’d be fully asleep. I wish she hadn’t said anything. I didn’t need to know it was possible for some people to be half-awake during an operation without anyone realising.
So now I’m trembling like a leaf, heart thudding too fast, breath refusing to steady.
Maybe it would help if I hadn’t spent the last few days fighting off a fever.
Or if Jack hadn’t stolen my songs.
Or if my guitar weren’t broken.
Or if Brandon were here.
That last one stings the most.
I can’t think about Jack right now, but Brandon? I didn’t even ask where he went. Back home to work, I assume. Still, I thought he’d be here before my operation.
He texted me last night.
Brandon: Good luck with your surgery tomorrow. I’ll be thinking of you. Try to rest if you can.
No promise he’d be here. But I assumed…
Ellenor’s beside me in scrubs, holding my hand and murmuring reassurances I can barely hear over the buzz of my pulse. “You’ll be okay, Lil. They do these every day. You’ll wake up and wonder why you worried.”
I nod because she needs me to. But my hands are slick with sweat, and I can’t stop shaking.
I tell myself I’m lucky. It’s just an ankle. There are people in this hospital with far worse ahead of them. Knowing that hasn’t helped. My emotions are so frazzled I’ve cried for them, too.
I’m tired of feeling everything all at once. Tired of relying on others. I should never have come to England. I reached too high…and tumbled all the way back into the dark pit I’ve been trying to climb out of.
They stop outside double doors marked “Theatre 3.” A nurse adjusts my blanket, another checks the IV line, and a young anaesthetist leans over me with a practised smile.
So many strange faces introducing themselves to me.
I’m too nauseous to smile or do anything except nod.
“I’m going to pop this mask over your face,” the anaesthetist says, fitting cool silicon over my nose and mouth. “It’s just oxygen—nothing unpleasant.”
It smells like the snorkelling mask Dad once hired for a family trip.
“Just try to breathe normally for me.”
I obey, drawing in the cool air puffing on my face.
Ellenor squeezes my fingers. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
I want to believe her.
I want to believe in anything right now.
But all I can think of is how small I feel. How utterly alone.
Suddenly, a nurse taps Ellenor’s shoulder, whispering something in her ear. I don’t think much of it, but then she stands and lets go of my hand, leaving my side without explanation.
“Ellenor?” My voice comes out sharp, afraid.
They promised she could stay for this part. They promised.
But she’s being ushered out before I understand what’s happening, and I’m frozen, the space beside me empty, my whole being desperate for something—anything—to hold onto.
Alone.
Why did she leave me?
A nurse replaces her, taking my hand. “Lily, darling.”
I nearly pull away, but this stranger is all I have, and her palm is warm, her eyes soft, her voice and rose scent familiar. I frown, focusing on her face, on the hairnet hiding waves of blonde hair. Disbelief surges through me, and for a wild moment, I think I’m hallucinating.
“Mum?” I whisper, incredulous.
“I’m here, darling.”
“Alright, Lily, you’re going to feel a little warmth in your arm now,” says the anaesthetist. “That’s the medicine starting. Just take some slow breaths for me. That’s it. You’re doing really well. We’ll look after you.”
I hardly hear a word, still gaping at Mum. Here. In England.
“How…?”
She smiles, brushing a stray curl from my face. “I’ll explain later. Everything will be alright. I promise.”
Something inside me breaks open—the fear, the ache, the longing. It all spills together as I clutch her hand. The warmth of her palm seeps into mine as the world begins to fade.
My eyelids grow heavy.
I try to stay awake.
I try.
I…
Try…