“Do you need anything before I drop you off? I can stay with you if you want,” Troy says as he pulls away from the hospital.
“Nah… I should be cool. I just appreciate you bringing me home.”
“What was it like being stuck with her?” I know Troy doesn’t mean anything by it, but I want to punch him right now. He must be able to tell that I don’t like that because he quickly apologizes. “Sorry, not the time.”
When we get to my house, he follows me inside, making sure that I’m all set, and taking care of Butch for me before stopping in front of me. “I’m going to be fine. You don’t have to stand over me. If I need you, I’ll call you.” We share a half handshake, half backslap hug.
“You better call me if you need me. I put the discharge instructions and prescription papers on the kitchen counter. Schedule a follow up with your doctor,” Troy says as he walks toward the front door.
“Yes, Mom,” I say in a high-pitched voice.
He gives me the finger, chuckling as he shuts the door behind him. I lock up and then head into the bathroom. I strip naked and then step into the shower. It’s the fastest shower in the history of the world. I just wanted to rinse the sweat, blood, and grime off of my body.
I grab four ibuprofen and toss them into my mouth. I swallow them down with half a bottle of water and head back into my bedroom, crawling into bed naked, and I promptly fall asleep.
“Fuck my life.” I groan as I try to get out of bed. Butch sits in his dog bed, staring at me as I try to stand, but quickly change my mind as my body screams. I knew this was going to happen, but I was hoping I wouldn’t hurt this bad. The prescription for muscle relaxers is on the counter.
I was going to try to avoid taking them, but I don’t want to suffer either. I send Troy a text asking if he’d come get it. Of course he answered immediately saying yes. He has keys, so I lie back down.
Fifteen minutes later, I hear the front door open. “Where are you at, pussy?”
“Go fuck yourself,” I shout from my bed.
Troy appears in the doorway. “Holy shit,” he says, looking at me while scratching my dog’s head.
I haven’t seen myself since yesterday, and now I’m curious. “Is it that bad? Lord knows I feel like death.”
“You look like you got your ass kicked. Your face is one giant bruise.”
“Fuck, don’t sugarcoat it or anything.” I push myself up into a sitting position. I realize I’m still naked, but covered by the sheet and wrap it tightly around my waist as I stand up. “Sorry.”
“No worries, tiny.” He smirks and then walks out of my room.
“Fuck you, you’re just jealous that my dick is bigger than yours,” I shout at his back. At my dresser, I grab a pair of basketball shorts and throw them on… slowly, of course.
Troy meets me in the hallway after letting Butch out. “I’m going to go get your script and I’ll bring it back with breakfast.”
“Thanks, brother.” He takes off and I grab some ibuprofen, popping a couple of pills into my mouth, and swallow them down. I let the dog in and he follows me into the living room. I wish I had Gwen’s number. I want to make sure she’s okay.
I grab my laptop and sit down on the sofa. I Google her name and pick the one social media platform that we both have. After clicking on the link, I press on the message button.
Maverick: Hey, I don’t know if you’re going to see this, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sore as fuck—it hurt getting out of bed this morning. I haven’t looked yet, but apparently, I look like I lost a fight. Let me know you’re okay.
I lie on my back on the sofa, close my eyes, and feel myself start to fall asleep.
Gwen is sleeping next to me. I reach out to stroke her hair, but my hand touches something wet. I pull my hand away and I hold it up to the light. Crimson covers my hand.
I look back down at her and she’s deathly pale, her lips tinged in blue. “Gwen? Gwen baby, wake up.”
The crunching of metal has me wrapping myself around Gwen’s still body as the room gets smaller and smaller, I scream for help, but no one comes. Fuck, I push on every inch, trying to get out.
“Maverick,” I hear someone yell. “Maverick.”
“Help us,” I scream.
“Maverick. Wake up.”
I open my eyes and fly back on the sofa.
Troy is standing next to the sofa, holding his hands up. “Sorry brother. You started thrashing around and calling out.”
I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. I was just having a nightmare.”
We walk into the kitchen where a big paper bag waits. He hands me a little white pill and a bottle of orange juice. “Take that and then eat.”
We both dig into our food. Bertha’s Café has the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten. They’re made from scratch and I heard rumors they make their own butter too. By the time I finish, I feel somewhat better… somewhat. The remnants of the dream gone too, thank God.
“Thanks for getting my pills and grabbing some breakfast.”
He pushes his plate away. “Do you want to talk about your nightmare? What was it about?”
I shake my head. “It was nothing.” Luckily, he drops it.
Seven
Gwen
I sit on the side of my bed. My seatbelt left a nasty, painful bruise. It’s made it impossible to wear a bra. Luckily, I have camis with built-in bras—they’ll do for now. I normally sleep on my stomach, but with the bruise I’m not able to.
I’m debating if I want to suck it up, and head downstairs, or just try sleeping on my back, again. Maybe I’ll be exhausted enough to sleep finally.
I take a quick picture and post it on social media with a brief summary of what happened. Once that’s done, I thumb through my page and see I have a new message, one I didn’t see until now.
When Maverick’s name pops up, I feel a fluttering in my belly. It looks like he sent it this morning. I read it, smiling. I’m surprised that he thought to check in on me, but it’s definitely sweet.
I start typing out a reply.
Gwen: Hey, yeah I’m pretty freaking sore too. I’m sporting a pretty bad bruise across my chest. The scratches on my face have scabbed over, but the bruises look worse. The staples in my head are irritating, but I guess it could be worse. Thank you for… I don’t know what else to say. He kept me calm when I wanted to scream and cry.
When we were being rescued, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms protectively around me. He didn’t let go of my hand until he’d been forced to. I can still hear the words he yelled, “You’re okay, you’re safe.”
I focus back on my message.
Thank you for being strong when I wasn’t and for everything. I hit send, set my phone down, and stand up.
I walk gingerly across my room and out into the hall. It’s late and I doubt anyone is up. I take the stairs down to the living room, one at a time. Fuck, this sucks. Maybe if I take the muscle relaxer and half of a pain pill, it’ll do the job of making me comfortable enough to fall asleep.
The living room is empty, but when I step into the kitchen, I can see the family room light is on. I step into the room and freeze, smiling at the sight in front of me. Dad’s asleep sitting up with his head tilted back, and Mom’s asleep with her head in his lap. His fingers are in her hair, like he fell asleep while playing with it.