“Holy fuckstick,” I whispered as pain radiated through my broken body, tears welled up in my eyes. I would not let them fall.
Gritting my teeth, I swung my legs to dangle over the side of the bed, reaching out to the little IV trolley beside my bed.
“Okay, good work, Gwen, now stand up,” I muttered to myself. I took a deep breath and gingerly reached my feet down to touch the cold tile.
“Ace!” My brother’s voice exclaimed with a hint of panic.
I glanced up to see Ian striding from the doorway towards me, arms extended. I lost my footing and stumbled towards the ground, strong arms caught me before I made impact.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You could have hurt yourself even more!” Ian growled.
“Well, I was doing just fine until you distracted me!” I snapped.
My brother smiled down at me, eyes twinkling. “I’m sure you were, little sis, but how about we wait for you to get a bit better before we try for any escape attempts.”
“I wasn’t trying to escape,” I cried.
“Sure, you weren’t trying to escape when you were getting your appendix out either, you were just ‘stretching your legs’ right?” Ian teased.
“I was!” I argued.
“In the parking lot?”
“It was a nice night, I liked the fresh air,” I declared, inwardly grinning. I hated hospitals. Always have. “I wasn’t trying to escape this time. If you must know, I need to pee.”
“Um, hate to break it to you, Sis, but you don’t need to get out of bed for that.” He pointed down to a bag attached to me. One filled with pale yellow liquid that could only be one thing.
“Okay, ew.” I screwed up my nose, not that I was embarrassed in front of my brother, but that was bag of pee. Gross.
“Well, I want to brush my teeth anyway, I feel like I ate a urinal cake,” I informed him.
“Okay, Ace, let’s get you to the bathroom before I pass out from your urine breath.”
Ian scooped me up, directing us to what I guessed was the bathroom. I winced and bit my lip trying to hide my reaction to the motion. Ian’s expression hardened immediately into a look I’d never seen before on his handsome face, one that didn’t belong there.
“I’m going to kill that motherfucker,” he muttered under his breath, voice shaking with rage.
“Now, what would that do to your impeccable military record?” I joked, trying to keep our exchange light, I wasn’t ready for reality to hit just yet.
He opened the door and gingerly set me down on the bathroom floor, his expression tortured. He looked me in the eyes and stroked my face, as if to make sure I was real. “Don’t joke about this, Gwen. Seriously, if I had lost you…” He shivered. “Mum and Dad are going to be heartbroken, I’m only glad they didn’t have to sit waiting for you to wake up. I wouldn’t wish that shit on anyone.”
“No! We are not telling Mum and Dad!” I tried to yell, but my husky voice was barely below a whisper.
I relaxed when I remembered they were away on some cruise and unreachable for three weeks.
Ian frowned. “We’ll talk about this later, now do your business. I’ll be outside the door, okay?” He kissed me on the head softly and walked out.
I spotted a brand new toothbrush amongst Barney’s entire cosmetic and skin care range. I guessed a little fairy called Amy had been in here.
I flinched mid brush as I caught my reflection. Both my eyes were swollen, black bruises lingered underneath them. A bandage covered my head and a scabbed over cut on my lip was tender against the brush. I touched my bandaged cheek gently, it looked like there were stitches underneath the white fabric. A long, scabbed over gash decorated my neck like some kind of gruesome necklace. I didn’t look down any further. I couldn’t. I gripped the edge of the sink with my one good hand, close to collapsing. An angry sob ripped out of my chest. Memories flooded through me, the pain, the faces of those monsters, and the fear, the paralyzing fear of thinking I was going to be raped and murdered. And by the man I thought I loved.
“Gwen, are you okay? I’m coming in!” Ian yelled through the door.
He burst in, looking worried. Beyond worried. Like he was bracing for something horrible. Or more horrible.
His eyes softened seeing me slumped against the sink. He gently pulled me into his arms.
“I was so stupid, Ian, I was so stupid,” I sobbed into his chest.
“This was not your fault, Ace. It was those sick bastards. None of this is your fault.” He framed my head with his hands, eyes glistening with moisture.
I had never seen my brother cry. He and my dad were the strong ones, Mum and I cried at anything. We sobbed at sad news stories and those television adverts about animal cruelty. Dad and Ian had spent their whole lives surrounded by our ‘delicate female sensibilities.’ Although, that phrase was only uttered once and thanks to the reaction it got, was never said again.
That was why I wasn’t letting them find out about this, it would destroy Mum — and if Ian reacted like this, I couldn’t handle my parents going through it too. It was my bad decisions that put me here, and I somehow had to find the strength to get through this without them.
“Ian, I’m okay,” I tried to reassure him. Reassure myself.
“No, sweetie, you aren’t, but you will be,” my brother promised, scooping me up and walking us to my bed.
“Ian, you can’t tell Mum and Dad, I’m serious, please,” I begged.
“Of course I have to tell them, Ace,” he snapped. “It would kill them if you went through this without them.”
“No, Ian, it will kill them to see me like this. Look at me.” I gestured at my face and Ian flinched.
“I am looking at you, Gwen, have been for the past week and a half. The image of you in this hospital bed, it’s burned into my brain. I won’t forget it, not until the day I die.”
Tears welled up in my eyes and I chided myself. I couldn’t be that emotional girl anymore. I had to be strong.
“Don’t you get it?” I whispered brokenly. “I can never take that away from you. I wish so badly that I could. I can at least save Mum and Dad from having this imprinted into their memories as well.” I gestured to myself again, albeit awkwardly with my bulky cast.
Ian’s face softened and he reached down and touched my cheek. “Ace, how is it that you manage to worry so much about everyone else while you’re the one that’s been through hell?”
“Just lucky I guess,” I joked weakly.
We were interrupted by the arrival of doctors and nurses, who did all my checkups, asked me lots of questions about where I lived, what year it was and who the president is. Luckily, I got it all right as I was more likely to remember who the president of Dior was.
A no nonsense doctor named Bruce informed me that I had a broken wrist (no shit, Sherlock), a fractured skull (the reason for my week and a half long coma), four broken ribs, stitches for a cut on my cheek, ‘superficial’ bruising covering most of my body, as well as suffering from internal bleeding, which I almost died from.
I had gingerly looked at my tender stomach, a bandage covering what would turn into a surgical scar. Ian was shaking with anger while the doctor listed my injuries as if he was making a grocery list. Seeing my staunch brother so close to falling apart hurt more than the bruises covering my body.