Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“More than a few,” he said. “A few more drinks, and you might’ve gotten alcohol poisoning.” There was no judgment in his tone, but still, I bristled at his words, too many years of my father’s words ringing in my ears.
“My point is, lay off the booze for a few days and let’s see if you can piece together what happened.”
“I don’t want to know what happened.” I didn’t really care, honestly. And if the man had raped me, I didn’t want to know.
Whatever happened hadn’t killed me, so it didn’t matter.
“I do.” He handed me a bottle of pills and a sheet of paper. “One pill twice a day. No more, got it?”
I nodded.
“Say it, no more.”
“Two pills a day. No more.” I took the bottle and examined it. “What is it?”
“Oxycodone. It’s for pain from the knot on your head and all the bruising to your upper body.” He looked away and for the first time, I realized I was wearing pajamas that weren’t mine. Suddenly I was worried about what had happened to me.
“Bruises? What bruises?”
The doctor sighed. “My best guess is you were kicked repeatedly based on the footprints on your side. Take it easy and your memory will surely come back.”
I nodded but I didn’t believe him. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe the doctor specifically, I didn’t believe anything. I didn’t believe in anything or anyone. “Sure. Thank you for looking after me.”
His smile was polite and professional just like the hand to my shoulder. “Your memory will come back, Bonnie. You’ll be fine.”
Physically, I knew I would even if it took some time. I wasn’t so sure anything else would be fine. Then again, how much worse could it get?
As soon as Dr. Callahan was gone, Maisie rushed in, worry knotting her ebony brows and turning her pale skin pink. “Bonnie, holy shit how are you? What happened?”
“I don’t know what happened,” I snapped. “I can’t remember.”
“Well, you were found downtown in the middle of the night, beaten and bruised. What were you doing down there, Bon?” The confusion and worry in her eyes I could handle; the hurt was harder to swallow. Maisie was my friend, like a sister, and I knew she cared about me. Deeply. But right now that just pissed me off.
“It’s where I live, Maisie. We all don’t get to live in a big mansion with rich mobsters.”
“Bullshit,” she spat back at me, surprising me. “I invited you to stay here or at Uncle Max’s and you threw both offers back in my face. Why? So you could live downtown with the street thugs? Awesome.”
So many emotions were wrapped up in that final word. Anger, sadness and hurt. Sarcasm. Confusion.
“I just want to be alone.” I didn’t want to fight with Maisie, and I didn’t want to hurt her, but I needed to be alone.
Maisie nodded but she wasn’t done. Not yet. “Are you upset with me for some reason?”
“No.”
“Do you blame me for something? For your arrest? For getting involved with Virgil and bringing the Ashbys into your life?”
“What? No. Of course not.” Virgil was scary but he loved her fiercely and protected her like she was everything to him. I wanted that. “I don’t.”
She nodded, sighed in relief. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Maisie was a firecracker, not the type to sit around and just take the crap the world threw at her. This was out of character. “What does that mean?”
“It means that this is grief. That this bitchiness is you trying to process everything that’s happened, and I can accept that. I love you, Bonnie, and I just want you to get past this. So do what you need to do and know that I’m here. Yeah?”
I blinked back tears and nodded. “Yeah,” I squeaked out, giving me time to swallow the tears that burned my eyes. “Thanks, Maisie.”
“I’ll leave you alone now.” Her smile was sad and her hug hesitant, but she squeezed gently, leading me to believe she knew more about my injuries than I did. “Get some rest.”
“Okay.” As soon as she was gone, I reached for the golden orange bottle and twisted the white lid, sliding one pill between my thumb and forefinger. I placed it on my tongue and washed it down with half a bottle of water. The doctor said it was for pain and right now, my heart hurt like it had been ripped out, trampled on and then sewn back in, all without anesthetic.
Speaking of pain, I sat up slowly and swung my legs off the bed, settling my feet into the plush cream rug that surrounded the bed. I stood slowly, happy to feel my legs solid and sturdy under me.
Walking naturally was difficult, painful even, though Dr. Callahan said he’d already given me a painkiller. Hopefully, it would kick in soon, but in the meantime, I removed the silky rose pink pajama top and folded it on the edge of the bed before sucking in a deep, fortifying breath. Then I stepped in front of the cheval mirror in the corner and gasped.