Nurse Jane steps around the bed and wraps her arms around me to restrain me. I try to wiggle out of her hold, but her grip tightens. Something sharp pricks my bicep, and I cry out.
“Shhh,” she says. My body goes limp as the sedative enters my blood stream, and numbness takes over. “Everything’s okay now.” She unwinds her arms around me cautiously, before stepping away. My eyes start to droop as peacefulness settles over me.
“Dr. Ramirez is in for a consult and will be here shortly. I briefed him about the patient,” I hear Nurse Jane say, but she seems so far away.
“Okay, thanks. I need help to stop the bleeding and suture her wound,” Nurse Roth says.
I’m not sure how much time has passed when I hear feet shuffling on the floor, then a deep voice asking how I’m doing. He introduces himself as Dr. Ramirez and says something else, but it gets lost in the haze that is my sedated brain. He keeps asking questions, but his voice and the noises in the emergency room are like a lullaby, pulling me into a black void of nothingness.
I wake up sometime during the night and squint, taking in my surroundings. In the dimly lit room, I try to get my bearings, but everything is a blur.
Looking up at the ceiling, I blink several times until the room comes into focus. There’s a dull, pulsing ache at the back of my head, and my throat is parched.
The memory of what happened at MJ’s birthday party slams into me, and my pulse speeds up. I glance down and notice the filthy clothes I was wearing when they brought me in are gone, replaced by a clean hospital gown. One of the nurses must have dressed me while I was out of it.
“Welcome back,” a nurse says as she begins to check my vitals. I notice now that I’m no longer in the ER, but in a private room.
“How long was I asleep?”
“A few hours, on and off. We’ve had to wake you up every thirty minutes to make sure you’re okay,” the nurse says as she pulls my chart from the slot at the end of the bed and reads through it, then puts it back and walks toward me to check my IV bag. “We had to sedate you. How are you feeling? How do your stitches feel?”
“Stitches?” Reaching up, I touch the back of my head, coming in contact with my bandaged wound, and wince.
“Careful, you don’t want to irritate them.”
Lowering my hand, I attempt to nod but stop when nausea hits the back of my throat. I close my eyes and take deep breaths. When I open them again, the nurse is looking at me with a frown marring her features. “You don’t look so good. How’s the pain on a scale of one to ten?”
“Seven.” Then I remember the reason for my panic before. “They brought two boys in before me, Solomon Callan and Levi Keenan. Do you know what happened to them?”
“They were taken to the OR.”
My chest squeezes in pain, and tears trail down my face. “H-how are they?”
“I don’t know the extent of their injuries.” Her features soften, and she takes my hand in hers. “We need to focus on you right now, okay?”
I avert my gaze from hers because I don’t deserve her kindness. When I don’t answer, she gives my hand a squeeze before she lets go. Until that moment, I had no idea how much her touch offered me comfort.
I yawn, my body weighed down by exhaustion, and my eyes flutter closed. I feel like I’m floating, and the thought of sleeping feels so good right now. In a part of my mind, I’m hoping when I wake up, this will all be a nightmare.
Yes.
Definitely. I need just a few more hours of sleep. As my eyes start to close, I hear the door squeak open, and I turn my head to my right to see MJ walk into the room.
I push on my elbows. Gosh, it’s so good to see a familiar face. “I’m so glad to see you.”
MJ takes my hand and gives it a squeeze, then attempts to smile. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired. My head is still throbbing. Any news about Sol and Levi?” When she doesn’t answer immediately, panic starts to take over again. I have to force myself to take a deep breath. “What’s going on? Are they—?” Tears well in my eyes. Oh no, this can’t be happening. “MJ, please, what is it?”
“Grace! No, it’s not what you’re thinking. Please just calm down.”
“I’m so sick of people telling me to calm down! Just tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t know much, okay? The doctors and nurses wouldn’t give me many details because I’m not family. But Ivan was with the boys when they came in, so he told me everything he knows.”
“What about my mom? Does she know?”
She nods. “I called her. She didn’t answer the phone, so I left a voice message.”
The nurse from before returns and hands me a plastic cup with two pills. “These will take care of the headache.” Then she turns to face MJ. “Want to stay with her until her mom comes?”
“I’d like that.”
After the nurse leaves the room, MJ kicks off her boots and climbs on the bed, facing me, then wraps her arm around my waist.
“I’m so scared, MJ,” I whisper. “What if something happens . . .?”
She sighs. “Let’s wait until tomorrow.” I nod and close my eyes.
The sound of feet shuffling on the floor snaps me awake. The room is dark save for light streaming in from the hallway. It takes me several seconds to get my bearings, and my heart starts racing as memories of what happened slam into me in vicious bursts.
“How are you feeling?” a familiar voice whispers. I look up and find the same nurse from before smiling down at me.
“Um,” I mutter as I take stock of my body. My head feels heavy, but other than the dull ache at the base of my neck, I feel better. I skim my fingers on the wound, feeling the bandage there, and wince when my fingertips press too hard. “My head hurts.”
“Nausea?” she asks. I shake my head. “Good. I’ll take your vitals, then get you something for the headache.”
“What time is it?” I croak.
“Around five in the morning.” She wraps a cuff around my bicep and unhooks the stethoscope from around her neck.
“Where’s MJ? Has she left already?”
She nods. “She said she’ll come back later. Your mother’s here, though.” The nurse nods to my right, and I follow her gaze. “She’s been waiting for you to wake up.”
My gaze lingers on my mom curled up on the chair, and my eyes burn with tears. I want to hide in the safety of her arms; I need the kind of comfort only she can give me. But at the same time, I’m scared. Embarrassed. She raised me better than this version of me who kisses boys that are not her boyfriend and hurts genuinely good guys.
I wipe my wet cheeks and whisper, “Any updates on Levi and Sol?”
She nods as she slings the stethoscope around her neck and scribbles her findings on the chart. “Both surgeries went well. They’re in the ICU overnight for post-operative monitoring.” She meets my gaze and continues, “I’m sorry I can’t share any more information. Family only.” Her gaze softens, taking off the harshness of her words.
“I’m family,” I blurt out, desperately. Her brows shoot up in question “Kind of. I mean, I’m, um. . .” I’m the what? Girlfriend? Friend? After what happened, I don’t even qualify to be either of those things.