Page 5 of Stables

I hate how quickly that can change.

“We’re here. I’ll be right back.” Libby shoulders her way out of the driver’s seat and disappears.

Paisley doesn’t fuss. I wonder if she knows we’re safe at the clinic?

The air is sucked from the cab when my door swings open. “I brought a nurse to help. I’ll get the baby. She’s gonna take you straight back, okay hun?” She reaches up and pats my leg before whisking around the side of the truck.

Libby is the most amazing person I could ever hope for.

Tears sting my eyes as a set of hands and a soft voice encourages me into the wheelchair on the curb.

I’m so useless, I can barely drag myself into the vinyl chair. My arms try to give out when I push myself up.

“You’re doing great. I got you.” I can’t see the face who’s talking to me, she’s on my blind side since my cheek has swollen so much.

At the mercy of strangers.

Here I am, begging for help because I couldn’t take care of myself.

The cracks in the sidewalk make a rhythmic bump that jolts into my chest before the cold blast of air washes over me. There’s usually an antiseptic smell, but my nose is too clogged with dried blood for it to register.

“I’m going to take you to room three.” The nurse turns towards Libby. “Has she been here before? Can you get her registered?”

“Yes, and yes. Will I be able to stay with her afterwards?” Libby bounces Paisley as she answers.

She’d make a better mom than me. Look how badly I keep messing up?

“Yes, that’s fine.” The anonymous nurse nods towards a clerk who opens the big double doors leading into the emergency room.

Pulling a curtain around me, I finally get to see the soft brown eyes of the woman who helped me in. “I’m going to need to get you changed into a gown. Do you think you can help me? I can cut these off if it hurts too badly.” She makes a broad gesture at my body.

I’m going to be sick.

Beat up,andmy clothes will be ruined?

I don’t even want to think about the new hospital bills.

My button down shirt and bra come off easily. She drapes the thin cotton over me before helping me work my bloodied jeans off.

Damn. My knee looks twice its normal size.

Her brows knit as she watches me. “Where all does it hurt?”

I’m not sure if its shock setting in, or just knowing I’m no longer in danger, but the tears that had been swelling start to fall. My throat feels like it’s closing off and I bite back a sob.

With a trembling finger I start pointing.

Head.

Ribs.

Belly.

Leg.

Everywhere.

My pride. Does that count?

---