Part 3: Sobriety

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A knock on the door pulled me out of my depressing thoughts, and when I mumbled at it first, the knock came once more

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A knock on the door pulled me out of my depressing thoughts, and when I mumbled at it first, the knock came once more. Stupid knock. I groaned again and the knock came again. Admitting defeat, I rolled off of the top of the bed, but I had forgotten I was on the top bunk and landed with a thump and a yelp.

When Hank came in, after politely announcing that he was doing so through the door I had yet to open for him, he found me crying into the scratchy old carpet. He behaved admirably, though he had no way to know why I was crying. Sure, I had just fallen off of the second bunk of a bed but my reaction was worse than it should have been. The fall had broken the damn that held me together while I worried about the fate of myself, Michael, and our future child. I cried boiling tears, my body red and lit with droopy flames. Hank couldn't even touch me, so he sat as close as he could and offered sweet words with his soft and kind accent. He didn't know that I was crying because I was worried that I wasn't really a dragon. He didn't know that he was comforting me because my fall to the ground had broken the dam holding in the shame that I would have to face Michael and tell him that I had failed him and our future child. Hank didn't know, and I got the sense that he didn't care. He just comforted me because he cared for me, and when my clothes burned off, he turned and faced the other way. After the flames subsided, the tears ran no more, and my dignity was far gone, I pulled the blanket off of Christine's bed to cover myself.

"I'm- sorry- I-" I sniffled, unable to justify my tears. I moved to push myself up and yelped, in my explosion of shame I'd forgotten about what started my tears to begin with. I'd fallen off of my bed on the carpet that was essentially cement. "I think I need to see the nurse."

"Darlin', I think you need a doctor," Hank said. "Do you want my help getting up?"

"I-" I struggled up, not using my hand as the only working one was holding a blanket around my shoulders. I couldn't get up alone, that much I could grasp from the throbbing pain in my ankle. "Can you-" I didn't have a good solution. "Can you grab me a sweater and a pair of pajama pants? I can- ughhh-" I let out a half moan, half groan, half shriek. "I can get dressed and then- ughhh," another half moan, half groan, half shriek. "Can you help me get to the doctor?"

"Of course," he said, grabbing the clothes I asked about and closing his eyes as he inched closer to me. It was adorable, and I let out a watery giggle. "Is everythin' okay?"

"Yes- well, no, I hurt, but I was just laughing at you," I struggled through the words, gritting my teeth as I worked to try and get my very very hurt arm through the first sleeve. Once it was in I let out a sigh of relief, and then yelped when the sweater pulled on my hurt arm as I attempted to casually run it over my head. By the time I had it on, which had taken far too long, Hank had asked if I was ok at least 5 times. After all of that, I still had to pull on my pajama pants.

Getting dressed had been a task, but getting to the doctor was another thing altogether. I couldn't stand on my right leg or move my right arm to loop it around Hank, but we managed. After all was said and done, and I convinced the doctor to let me go back to my dorm, Hank helped me settle into the couch. I'd broken my arm and ankle and shoulder, and sprained about half of my body. Thankfully, with the help of magic and pain medication, Hank left me in the capable hands of Christine and Margie.

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