𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 39

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Saturday dawned with Lilith in an incredibly foul mood. Pain racked her body—well, mainly her arm and her head, but there didn't seem be an inch of her that wasn't aching in one way or another. She was sticky and tired. As it happened, she was also thirsty and hungry. But she had never been more reluctant to move. Who knew breaking an arm would be this trying?

Little Cygnus—her maternal cousin—had made it seem like a breeze when his humerus was fractured after a bad fall on the ice rink last winter. The four-year-old had remained as carefree as ever, going about his boyish business without a trace of the suffering Lilith was facing. She even recalled him performing a dance for them in his cast. She was still getting used to hers, which she received less than twenty-four hours ago.

Owing to the swelling that had not subsided to the optimum level, Dr. Addams had been unwilling to fix her in one at the point of her discharge. At their follow-up session yesterday morning, however, the Chief of Orthopedics was satisfied by her progress. Fiberglass was ordered and applied from Lilith's right palm all the way to the middle of her bicep as she had sustained injuries both near her wrist and towards her elbow. It wasn't that much leaner than her splint, but she felt better protected in the sturdy mould, especially since Dr. Addams had swapped out her sling, which had been a foamy thing with plenty of padding, to a mesh alternative that was admittedly less daunting to sport in public.

The bright side was that a variety of colours had been at her disposal, so her new accessory was—naturally—a vibrant shade of neon pink. Lilith had imagined the happy hue would be pleasing to the eye, but it was doing little to lift her spirits. At the moment, she couldn't even look at her appendage.

Theoretically, a cast provided better support than a splint and was therefore supposed to reduce her pain. It wasn't false, Lilith supposed, but the difference was minor as far as she was concerned, and the throbbing remained a constant bother.

Oral morphling was neither as potent nor long-lasting as its intravenous analogue. Besides, Lilith was only allowed the tablets at regular intervals, which, in her opinion, were too spaced out. In between, she tried everything else: ice, elevation, immobilization. None could relieve her completely. On the contrary, they each invited their own problems.

The refreezable gel pack she was prescribed made her cold; the down pillow that propped up her arm made her hot. Instead of counteracting each other, they sent her temperature vacillating between the two extremes, causing both shivers and perspiration. Lying in bed all day, motionless as a statue, moreover, rendered the rest of her muscles stiff. Lilith suspected that even if she attempted to stand now, her legs wouldn't listen.

All in all, in contrast to her expectations, she hadn't quite enjoyed a moment's comfort since she arrived home. Even with all the pints of ice cream Athena had bought from Frostbite, the trio's favorite teenage hangout. Even with all the best snacks Olympia had ransacked from the pantry piled in the convenience of her room. Even with Cook's top-notch lobster bisque. Even with Val's toy soldier, Herculanus, who never left his side ("He will look after you, Lili," said her little brother, whose mother had barred him from being within ten feet of Lilith for fear of the damage he might do).

If Lilith had ever been in doubt, the accident proved how just much she was loved. Her only regret was not having shown the proper gratitude for it. The hampers and bouquets she had remembered weren't a dream. Everything had simply been brought back because the clutter was hindering the professionals. Criseida had the hospital redirect all subsequent gifts to the Gold Residence, and they now crowded the guest room reserved for but never used by Olympia and Athena. Preferring to be together, the girls tended to pack themselves onto Lilith's king-sized bed. She was alone now, however, surrounded only by a fortification of cushions.

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