Page 10 of A Hurt So Good

The guys climb in their SUV and take off as I lead Sasha to mine. I help her inside before I go around and climb in, too. I start it up and look over at her, and she doesn’t look good.

“Don’t throw up in my car,” I tease her a little.

“Fuck off, Denz. I’m too sick for this,” she tells me. Sasha never complains about anything, so I know she isn’t feeling well.

I pull out and take off down the road when she reaches over and slaps me.

“What the hell?”

“Why are you speeding, you idiot? You want to get pulled over?” I chuckle at her and slow down, careful when I go over the bumps in the road.

The hospital isn’t far, and I’m thankful for that. Once we arrive, I park and help Sasha out, leading her inside. We stop at the desk and the nurse hands me paperwork to fill out. I walk to the chairs, settle Sasha into one, and begin to work on it.

“Sasha, when was your period?” Her head snaps around in my direction and the nastiest look I’ve ever seen crosses her face. “What?”

“You want to talk about my periods, Denz?”

“I just need the date,” I tell her.

“Last month. And it was heavy. I had cramps like a bitch, and you still made me go to school. Did you know a female’s cramps are equivalent to a fucking heart attack, Denz?” She narrows her eyes at me, but I just shrug.

“I don’t know about that shit, Sash.”

“You should know about it, you man whore,” she mumbles, causing me to laugh. I fill out the rest of her forms and return them and then we wait.

And we fucking wait and wait and wait. Because this hospital is a piece of shit, but because Sasha only has state insurance, it’s the one we have to use. Sasha finally lays her head on my shoulder and falls asleep. I’m kind of glad as we’re still sitting here.

It takes two hours for them to call her back. By now, she feels hotter than she had, and she’s complaining about stomach pain. I help her walk to the back and climb on the bed the nurse directed us to.

“I need you to take your clothes off and put this on,” she says, passing her a gown. Sash rolls her eyes and snatches the gown from her hand.

“A dress, Denz? They want me, of all people, to put on a dress.”

“It’s a gown.”

“It’s a dress. Turn around,” she says. I do as she demands and look away while she changes, but I hear her whimpering, and I can’t help but want to do something for her. For Sasha, there isn’t anything I won’t do. I’d burn the fucking world to the ground for her.

“You can look now.” I turn back around and sit in the chair next to the bed. Sasha lays her head back but slips her hand over and grabs mine. That’s another way I know she isn’t feeling well.

The doctor comes in and checks her out, taking blood and urine samples from her. Then they send her off for an xray and cat scan. I don’t know what the hell all of that means anyway.

I send off a quick text to the guys, letting them know we’re still here and what’s going on. Then, I sit back and flick through my phone for a while.

I listen to the people on the other side of the curtain laughing and carrying on. They’re only here to get drugs, their words, not mine. I couldn’t care less what they do as long as my sister gets treated.

The tests seem to take forever, and the nurses are pretty much bitches here. I’ve asked a million times if she’s okay or not. They never know shit. So when another one walks by, I grab her wrist and pull her into the room.

“I need to know what the hell is going on with my sister. They took her an hour ago,” I growl in her face. She looks scared, and she should be.

“I’m not her nurse.”

“Yeah, I know. Her nurse is a cunt and won’t tell me shit,” I tell her. She nods her head and looks down where my hand still holds her wrist. I let go and she nods her head.

“What’s her name?” I tell her, and she walks away, heading for the little desk in the center of the room. I watch her type on her computer for a second before coming back to me.

“They’re still waiting for a space. We’re backed up,” she tells me.

“For a fucking xray?”

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