stupid like bash her face against something, she wouldn’t need surgery.
“There is so much you aren’t telling me,” she argued, wincing as the nurse accidentally jolted her right leg. She pointed at it with their joined hands. “Like that, for instance. Nobody will tell me anything, Braun. Like why my leg looks like it’s been in a car accident with a bear trap. How long does that thing have to stay on? How long before I can get out of this damn bed?”
“It’s been just over a week since you nearly died, Boadicea.” Braun levelled her with a strict glare. “You had major abdominal surgery, you have broken bones, and being impatient isn’t going to get you on your feet any sooner.”
She’d only seen her stomach once and it was enough to make her feel sick. The huge red incision bisecting her, the row of ugly metal staples holding it together...she’d been more vulnerable on that operating table than she ever wanted to feel. Hands had been inside her, touching things no person should be allowed to touch. “I just want to know what’s happening to me, Braun.”
The nurse coughed quietly, then slipped away to give them some privacy. Bodie was grateful; she was sure they were about to have an argument, and she wasn’t keen on having a witness to her temper.
Braun surrounded her hand with both of his big ones, infusing it with warmth. Yeah, he was tired. Even the set of his shoulders lacked his usual authoritative power. “Your recovery will take months, Bodie. Not a few days or weeks, but months. What’s happening to you is a cataclysmic, life-altering process, darlin’.”
Her breath seized. A thousand possibilities whirled through her head, her hand going limp in the cradle of his. As her eyes landed on her legs, one surrounded in a cast, the other in a jungle of metal, she blurted the first question that came to mind. “I-I’m going to walk again, aren’t I?”
“Yes. Absolutely yes.” His jaw clenched. “But you won’t dance, baby. I’m so sorry, Bodie.”
There was pressure on her skin as though he was squeezing her fingers, but she couldn’t feel him anymore. She was numb, and cold. Down to the roots of her being. His voice was nothing more than a buzz in her ears, drowned out by the suddenly erratic beat of her pulse.
You won’t dance... You won’t dance... You won’t dance...
Suddenly claustrophobic, pinned under the weight of her injuries, she couldn’t stand the sensation of being trapped. It was a lie, a cruel lie, and she’d prove them all wrong. Dancing was part of her, the biggest piece of her heart, and she was nothing without it.
Agony ripped through her, uncontrollable wildfire, when she kicked her legs. Metal jangled. Bones howled in silent protest. Icy sweat slicked her skin, making her shake. She was getting out of this fucking bed, out of this hell, if she had to crawl.
Braun towered over her, using his body to keep hers down as his hands pressed to her shoulders. “Little one, stay still. If you don’t calm down, they’ll sedate you, and I can’t take another week of being without you. Just take some deep breaths and calm down.”
Her stomach wailed as she tried to sit up. One flex of those muscles and she thought she’d throw up. How could one body contain so much pain and survive? At least when Abraham had gone to work on her with his fists and feet, she’d blacked out. In those moments beforehand, when she’d done some damage of her own to a man she’d hated for years, she’d been so hyped on adrenaline and fury she hadn’t felt much of what he’d done to her.
It wasn’t until Diane stomped on Bodie’s left leg with those fucking heavy biker boots and the bone cracked that the magnitude of her pain registered, slicing through the adrenaline effortlessly.
This...this was torture.
Bodie went limp, breathing too hard, too fast. Her teeth chattered as she tried to deal with the wreckage of her life, her stupid body. God help her, surely, she hadn’t been such a bad person—in this life or ones past—to deserve this?
Oh fuck, she was going to cry.
“Shush, little one. Don’t cry, it’ll hurt.” Braun’s face was taut and pale, worry written over every inch. “Shit, I can’t even pick you up and cuddle you. Don’t, Bodie. It’s going to be okay; I promise. One way or another, we’ll get you through this.”
“What am I supposed to do,