Unknown Creatures [Unedited]

16. First day home

Isabella's view:

Mark helps me inside of the house, wheeling me until I'm nearly at the living room.

"Thank you, Mark, I'll call you later," I say, smiling.

"Are you sure, Isabella?" he questions.

"Yes, you've done more than enough now go," I say with a small push.

He nods and leaves, so I wheel myself over to the living room. The pain I feel is unbearable. Tears well up in my eyes and I try to force them not to fall, closing my eyes. My ribs feel as though someone is stomping onto them over and over, my arm and leg burns. I bite my lip so I wouldn't scream.

"Why me?" I mutter to myself, rubbing my right arm and leg slowly.

"Because this is what God wanted," dad says, walking over to me, a smile on his face as he too has tears in his eyes. "It's ok to cry, baby girl. Crying doesn't make you weak, it just means you have been strong for too long."

"I don't want to cry dad."

"I know baby girl, but sometimes it is ok to let it out instead of keeping it in."

"Yeah dad, that's why you're holding your tears right now. I'm fine," I say as I wheel myself past dad and over to the sofa. 

Man, this is tiring. This uses up too much of my energy.

I try to push myself up from the wheelchair but slump back onto it, failing every time. 

"Here, let me help you baby girl," dad offers, but I refuse it.

"I'm ok dad. I don't need help. I'm capable of doing this on my own, thank you very much."

 Dad steps back and watches my failed attempts at getting up.

"Ok, come help dad," I say defeated, after the 15th time of not being able to get up.

Dad walks over to me, now in front of me as he places his hands onto my waist as he steadies me up. 

"I feel like I'm being juiced dad," I say with a laugh, as his hands tighten around my waist. 

"Sorry baby girl," he apologises as he softens his grip around my waist, helping me walk over to the sofa, my hands on his shoulders as he slowly lowers me down onto the soft cushions of the sofa. 

"Thanks dad," I say, smiling at him as I force my legs up onto the sofa to relax them.

Well, this is better than those damn hospital beds. Felt like I was laying on sheets of metal in there, and the food... flavourless! Yuck.

Just as I am reflecting on my time at the hospital, mum comes in with a forced smile on her face.

"What's wrong mum?" I ask, eyeing her carefully.

"Nothing sweetheart," she replies, her right eyebrow twitching a bit, her smile still forced as the sides of her mouth twitch a bit, tapping her finger on her thigh abruptly.

"Don't lie to me mum. You're doing that thing with your body language again, so spit it out already," I say bluntly.

"Oh. Well sweetheart, that physical therapist will come over later today to speak to you, sweetheart."