Songs for this chapter are:
Nothing- The Script
Skinny Love- Birdy
The scientist- Coldplay
Breathe me- Sia
"You have a metacarpal fracture," the pudgy doctor informs me. His glasses are hanging from the bridge of his nose and I can practically smell the judgment radiating off of him. I assume he's still pissed that I flew off the handle after being asked, "Are you sure you hit a wall?" for the tenth time. I know what he's thinking and he can fuck off.
"English please?" I rumble. I've calmed for the most part but I'm still beyond pissed off by his questioning and hard stares. Working in the busiest clinic in London, he has surely seen worse than me, but he still glares at me every chance he gets.
"Broken," he says in a slow voice. "Your hand is broken and you'll need to wear a cast for a few weeks. I'll give you a prescription to help manage the pain but you'll just have to wait it out and wait for the cast to heal the bones."
I don't know which is more laughable, the idea of wearing a cast or the fact that he seems to think I need help managing my pain. There's nothing that any pharmacist can provide to help with my pain. Unless they've got a selfless blonde with grey eyes on their shelf, they've got nothing for me.
An hour later my hand is covered in a thick plaster. I tried not to laugh in the old man's face when he asked me what color cast I wanted to choose. I remember being young and wishing to have a cast for all my friends to sign their names and draw stupid pictures in permanent marker across, too bad I didn't have any friends until I find my place with Mark and James.
They are so different now than they were as teens. Mark is still a dipshit, his brain fried from too many drugs and James is pussy whipped by some med student but the change in both men is evident. Sometime in the last three years they have lost the hardness that used to cover them like a blanket- no a shield. I don't know what caused that change in them but given my current ... situation, I don't welcome the change. I expected the same assholes from three years ago but they are nowhere to be found.
Yes, they still do more drugs than humanly possible but they aren't the same malicious delinquents they were when I left London years ago.
"Stop by the chemist and you'll be good to go." The doctor gives me a quick nod and leaves me alone in the exam room.
"Fuck." I tap on the hard surface of the stupid cast. This is such bullshit. Will I be able to drive? To write?
Fuck no, I don't need to write anything anyway. That shit needs to stop now, it has went on long enough and my sober mind keeps fucking with me, sliding thoughts and memories in when I'm too distracted to keep them out.
Karma keeps fucking with me and true to her bitchy reputation, she continues the mockery as I pull my phone from my pocket to find Liam's name across the screen. I ignore the call and shove the thing back into my jeans.
What a fucking mess I've made.
"How long will she be like this?" Liam asks someone. Everyone is acting like I can't hear them, like I'm not even here, but I don't mind. I don't want to be here and it feels good to be left alone.
"I don't know. She's in shock, honey." Karen's sweet voice answers her son.
Shock? I'm not in shock.
"I should have went inside with her." Liam chokes through a sob and if I could look away from the crème colored wall, I know that I would see him in his mother's arms. "She was up there alone with his body for almost an hour. I thought she was just getting her stuff and maybe even some closure, but I let her sit up there with his dead body for an hour." He's crying so much and I should comfort him, I know I should and I would if I could.