“You wanted to fucking see her, well, here she fucking is,” he said with a growl.
Sandman’s eyes lit up when he took in Shasta’s tiny frame, and a smile gingerly grew across his face.
“Hi,” he said, his voice moving like molasses.
Sabbath’s hardened glare softened just a tad when he realized how hard it was for Sandman to think, let alone speak.
“What’s wrong with him?” he asked, shooting me a wary glance.
“The nurse said he is having delay issues. She said it’s normal after a severe concussion. She said the doctors stated that they were surprised at how cognitive he was after waking up. He remembers things, has a bit of a stutter, and everything he does is at a snail’s pace, but it’s Jesse, just a dumbed down version of him.”
“Well, he needs to get the fuck better. There’s a storm brewing, and I need my best men at my side, not this… whatever this is.”
Sandman’s mouth fell. “I—I—I’m s—s—sorry.”
Sabbath’s hand tightened on Shasta’s waste as Imogen waltzed back in, handing Jesse a cup. He chased the straw around with his mouth, not able to make the connection.
Imogen stopped it with her fingers and held it for him.
“Thanks,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and croaky.
“The doctor is on a call right now, but I’ll have him come talk to you guys in a few. It looks like Jesse will be with us for a while. He’s going to need physical therapy.” She grinned. “That’s where I come in. I’m going to be the one helping him with his recovery.”
“And how long does that take?” Sabbath barked, causing her to jump.
“Uh—um, I’m not sure, that depends on Jesse.”
“Fucking useless. This whole fucking hospital is useless.” Sabbath’s mouth set into a sneer.
Imogen’s eyes widened when she noticed the bruise under Shasta’s eye, then her gaze dropped down to the firm hold he had on her waist.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” she asked, her eyes shifting nervously between Sabbath and Shasta.
“She’s fine,” Sabbath growled, clutching her tighter.
The nurse’s eyes kept moving back and forth between Sabbath and Shasta, but like the Queen she is, Shasta lifted her head and smiled.
“I’m fine. I was in here a few weeks ago because of a sexual assault, and this is unfortunately the aftermath.” She pointed to her eye. “The damn thing won’t go away.”
“Oh wow, I’m so sorry to hear that. Can I maybe help you find a counselor or someone to talk with?”
Shasta shook her head. “No, I’m good. But thank you.” She turned to Sabbath. “Can I speak to Sandman alone?”
“Why?”
“He asked for me, so I just assumed that’s what you brought me here for.”
“Anything he has to say, needs to be said in front of me.”
Shasta frowned. “Okay, Sandman, you called me here, how can I help?”
“I—I just wanted to s—s—see if you were…” His voice drifted off again, focusing on a bird that was sitting on his window sill.
Imogen piped in by saying, “That’s going to happen from time to time. His brain is going to lose focus.”
“… okay,” Sandman finished almost two full minutes later.
“Fuck! The dude’s head is all fucked up.” Sabbath paced the room, finally letting go of Shasta’s waist. “I’m going to make those bastards pay for this shit.”