Pushing my hands into the mattress, I clutched the blanket and sat up. My chest was still aching, every inhale was agonizing and every exhale was just as horrible. Dropping my hands into my lap, I just sat still, unsure if my body could handle anymore than that.
I was afraid to move, afraid that the pain would grow worse as my muscles worked between burning tendrils of fire that snaked around my chest.
Fuck, this is horrible.
There had been this expectation in my mind that sleep and rest would cure me, that when the sun came up in the morning, I'd have my strength back and I'd be able to fend for myself.
That wasn't the case. I felt worse than I had the night before, every inch of my body was just as sore, the pain still vibrant and alive in all my muscles.
The door creaked open and I expected to see Porter. To my surprise, a small woman with dark red hair and thick framed glasses stepped inside. Wearing a fitted blue blouse and jeans, she shuffled her feet across the plush blue carpet.
Carrying a wooden tray and wearing a bright smile on her face, she said, “Good morning, how are you feeling?” Walking to the bed, she set the tray on the end and leaned against the post.
The scent of pancakes and syrup filled the room, mingling with the deep aroma of hot coffee and subtle perfume of sunflowers.
My stomach grumbled, eager and ready to devour everything that tray had to offer. Clenching my belly, I tried to smile at her, but even that hurt. I just wasn't sure if it was because of the accident or because I didn't have a damn clue who this woman was or why she was here.
Where the hell am I?
Waving her hand to brush off my silence, she stood at the end of the bed and cupped her hips. “Don't worry, no need to answer that. You look like shit, I'm sure you feel the same.” Her laugh was tender as she walked to my side and looked over my face. “From what I hear, you're lucky to be alive. Let me take a look at your head.” Cupping my cheeks, she turned my face in her hands as she inspected the wound on my forehead. “He did a good job with it, but I want to look at it closer. You might need stitches, and I won't know until I take off the sani strips.”
“Okay,” I said, unsure how to respond. My stomach gurgled again, and my eyes darted to the food. “Is that for me?” Pointing at the tray, I angled my head so I could look up at her.
“It is, go on, eat up.” Leaning over me, she pulled the food closer. “Eat what you can, but don't worry if you can't finish it. I put a few aspirin on there too, it should help with some of the pain.” Smiling, she hugged herself and started for the door. “I'll let you relax a while longer and eat, then I'll be back and we can take care of that cut.”
Not waiting for an answer, the woman shut the door, disappearing as quickly as she had arrived. Instantly, I had the urge to call her back. I wanted to know who she was, where I was, and what was going to happen to me.
She had a sweet nature to her, I didn't feel threatened or scared when she came in and stood beside me. She didn't make me nervous or anxious in any way. After everything I had been through, it was relieving to be in the presence of someone who seemed so kind.
Eating as much as I could, I sat back against the pillow with a full stomach and finished the cup of coffee. My headache was starting to dull, becoming more of an aggravating throb than anything else. Rubbing my ribs, I felt each one gently, trying to figure out if there was a crack in any of them.
There was no way for me to tell, they all fucking hurt. Closing my eyes, I laid my head back and groaned. I still wasn't in any shape to try and get up, or to try and sneak away unnoticed like a mouse in the wall.
Laying back, I snuggled into the blankets, allowing myself to get comfortable. I wouldn't say I felt safe, I wouldn't tell you that my worries had disappeared and there was no fear of what would come next.
But I could tell you that right then, all I wanted to do was lay back and let my body repair itself. It was a natural instinct, like when you're sick and could sleep for hours. My body needed this, and I had no choice but to give it what it wanted.
“Emery, Emery sweetheart, wake up.” A gentle hand brushed across my forehead, rousing my eyes open.
Startled, I scrambled to sit up, clawing at the blankets with my nails and kicking my heels against the mattress. Frantically I looked around, unsure of what I was searching for. I must have had a nightmare, because I felt like I had been running. My heart was racing and a cold sweat had dampened my forehead, but I couldn't remember what I had dreamed about.
“It's just me, you're alright.” The woman's smile soothed my nerves, relaxing my muscles. “I didn't mean to frighten you, I just want to clean your head and put a new bandage on.”
Nodding, I ran my hands up and down my thighs. “I'm sorry, it was a long, strange night. I don't really feel like myself, I'm not usually this jumpy.”
Pulling the chair out from the desk under the window, she placed the seat next to the bed and sat down. Flapping her fingers, she waved me closer.
“It's fine, really.” Slowly she reached for my face, her eyes tender as tiny wrinkles breached the corners. “May I?” Shaking my head yes, I leaned forward into her palms. “Good, let's see just how bad this gash is. I'm going to peel these off, it might sting a little, but I'll be as gentle as I can.”
“Alright.” Watching her, her eyes set on the wound on my head, fingers tugging and tearing at the firmly glued strips. “Can I ask you something?” Glancing between her face and my hands, I waited for her to answer.
“Sure, ask away.” Grunting slightly, she grinned as she freed the small bandage. “One down, three to go.”
Fiddling with my fingers in my lap, my eyes drifted between the woman and the bed. “Who are you?”
Giggling, she sat back, letting her hands fall loosely against her thighs. “My name's Josephine, but you can call me Jo.” Grabbing the end of another strip, she repeated the process to remove it.
“Jo, where am I?”