Plastic People & Fake Masks

Chapter 25: A Broken Coccyx.

A/N if there's a mistake please ignore it bc I'm tired and I'm a sensitive squish :3

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I messed up. I got drunk, I acted stupidly, and I made myself look like a sad, worthless idiot to Jordan. How you ask? What unspeakable act might cause such incredible idiocy?

I broke my ass.

The doctor stifled a laugh when I stared at her, wide eyed, after she delivered the news. "A coccyx is the actual term for it, but yeah, you broke your bum. We'll be giving you tons of meds, you're to take one of each every morning and night for pain and to help you sleep. Try not to sit all of your weight onto the bone, lay on your stomach when you sleep, and...um...get a close friend to help you massage your buttocks every once in awhile, yeah?"

"Fine. I deserve this. I am never getting drunk again." The hangover combined with the burning, stabbing pain in my ass made me feel absolutely miserable. If the physical pain wasn't enough, the shame and embarrassment was. After Jordan was separated from me and a nurse put me in a room, I cried my damn eyes out. It hurt. It was nothing like anything I'd ever felt before, the pain was almost unbearable. The doctor walked in right in the midst of my break down and put me on so much morphine I could barely feel my face afterwards, and it's still a bit numb now. She must've felt sorry for me, I knew this much morphine wasn't allowed for such a minor injury.

The doctor grinned. "I'll get you a wheelchair and your clothes, then you can be on your way and hide inside your house for awhile until you feel better."

"I can't hide from my problems, my problem is in the waiting room."

A shadow of a grin made its way to her lips. "That boy who walked you in?"

"More like carried me in. I can't tell him I broke my arse, it's embarrassing!"

She smiled. "Well, I think he would be more worried about your wellbeing to laugh at you. Act pitiful and I'm sure he won't do a thing."

"Act pitiful? How?"

"You know, cry, limp around, wince every five minutes, keep your eyes lowered. That's all I can tell you honey. One of my nurses will escort you out once we get your chair and then I'll send your meds to a local pharmacy for your boyfriend to pick up. Okay?" She didn't wait for my answer, turning on her heel and quickly exiting the room before I could even get my response out.

"He's not my boyfriend!" I shouted, but the door had already closed behind her. Why does everyone think he's my boyfriend? Sure I'm with him all the time and I just about live with him nowadays, but that doesn't mean I'm dating the guy.

A nurse entered the room pushing an empty wheelchair and motioned for me to get in it. It took me ten minutes to get in the damn thing and two seconds for the nurse to push me ninety miles an hour down the hallway and to the waiting room door. I gulped, put my head down, and slumped back in my chair. I hope that docs advice works.

The waiting room was empty, except for a mother and her kid sitting in the corner. He looked like he'd busted his face up pretty bad on the right side, but I wasn't sure from what. My eyes met Jordan's three chairs away from the boy and his mother, and they were blank.

Shit.

He walked over quickly, but his gaze remained on the nurse as she gave him instructions on what to do after we left the hospital, which I ignored as I stared worriedly at Jordan. After what seemed like years, he nodded and took hold of the wheelchair himself and began to push me.

Nothing was said as we exited the hospital and started our journey across the parking lot to his car. I felt horrible. No, not because my ass was broken and I was dehydrated as hell and my head ached from all the morphine, but because I embarrassed myself in front of Jordan and showed him just how pathetic I was without him in my life. I was willing to kill myself if he left me or rejected me, and now he knows that. I wanted to be anywhere but around him at the moment.