9
ASPEN
Ishould feel something, dread, anger, sadness, but all there is, is numbness. I’m numb to the chaos swirling around me, circling the drain called my life. There are people talking, and the engine of the helicopter roars loudly in my ears, but even the noise doesn’t affect me. My brain refuses to digest anything I’m hearing.
All my attention is on Quinton and making sure he doesn’t die on me before we get back to Corium. As soon as the helicopter lands, people move around us, and still, I feel nothing.
Everything happens at lightning speed. Guards rush toward us, grabbing hold of the stretchers and rushing us both toward the double doors that lead inside Corium.
I lift my head and look around, and the moment I do, I wish I hadn’t. My stomach drops to my feet when I see Quinton’s family standing at the doors. Their faces are stricken with fear watching Quinton. Except Xander Rossi. He’s glaring daggers at me.
The intensity of hate in his gaze makes me want to curl into a ball. All I wanted was to go unnoticed, and instead, everything I’ve done has brought attention back onto me.
The guards’ feet slap against the floor, and I force my gaze down to my hands. As soon as we reach the infirmary, I’m set on one bed while Quinton is carried into a separate room.
Everyone rushes into that room, and I realize then I’m not going to be seen, at least not until after Quinton is. While his injury requires more medical attention, it feels like I’m being brushed aside.
That thought becomes more and more apparent as the minutes tick by and I sit here silently waiting for someone to give a shit about me.
Bitter rage lingers at the back of my mind. Not because these people are ignoring me. I’m used to that, and I’m glad they make sure Quinton is okay before they look at my leg.
No, it’s because my family ignores me. Quinton’s family came to see him—they probably came as soon as they were told he went out into the forest. My mother hasn’t even answered my calls for I don’t know how long. I could’ve died. Hell, I almost did, and that wasn’t even a sufficient excuse for her to leave her hideout. I mean, there is a chance they didn’t tell her, but I doubt it.
Does she even care about me?
The question lingers in my mind for much longer than I care to allow. I don’t want to be mad or permit myself to feel anything resembling anger toward my mother, but you would think she would be here, like Quinton’s family.
A little more time passes, and eventually, Dr. Lauren comes out of Quinton’s room. I recognize her from the last time I was here. She gives me a genuine smile as she walks up to me.
“I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”
“It’s okay, really.”
She touches my arm and rubs gently. It’s a small gesture, but my body instantly relaxes a bit, knowing that she will take care of me like a doctor is supposed to. “It sounds like your leg is broken from the report I got from the guards who brought you in. Do you have any other pain or injuries?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s just my leg and a bunch of scrapes and bruises.”
“You got very lucky. Not many people walk away from a helicopter crash like that.”
Dr. Lauren starts her examination, checking my head for any bumps. My eyes, mouth, and throat also get a good look, as well as the rest of me. She is extremely thorough, and I appreciate it. When she’s finished, she calls for a nurse and one of the guards.
“We’re going to get an x-ray done. It doesn’t appear she has any other trauma, which is a miracle considering what she went through.” The doctor gestures to the guard and nurse. “Help her into the wheelchair and bring her back and put her in room four when you’re done.”
I’m not prepared for the adventure they take me on, and I use the wordadventurelightly because it’s anything but that. Neither the guard nor the nurse seem to care about my wellbeing as they manhandle me onto the x-ray table and back in the wheelchair.
After the x-ray is done and they confirm that my leg is broken, they take me back to an exam room.
“I’m going to help you put a gown on, and then we’re going to put an IV in.”
I blink slowly. “I didn’t think I’d need an IV.”
The nurse half-smiles. “Believe me, it’s for the best. You’re dehydrated, and we do not need a repeat from last time. We’re going to put your leg in a cast, so they’ll be moving you around a lot. Plus, they have to align the bones. It’s just easier if we give you some meds that will knock you out.”
Uneasiness coats my insides, and while I want to tell her I don’t want to be put to sleep, I don’t think I have much choice, so I let her do what needs doing. After I’m in the gown and she places the IV in my arm, the doctor finally comes back.
“As the nurse told you, we’re going to give you some meds to calm you and put you to sleep. When you wake, the cast will be on, and the bone will be aligned. It should heal nicely with no complications.”
“Okay, how long am I going to be asleep?” The idea of being put to sleep, even if it is for a medical procedure, makes me queasy, as it leaves me vulnerable.