“Oh.” Her face crumples. “Oops.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“I told you.”
“I know, but I want to hear more about your night.”
“It was just a night.” She sways a little more. “I was sad and I wanted to go drinking, so we went drinking and it was fun.” She hiccups. “And then it was time to leave and I didn’t want to, but they made us, so I was annoyed and walking fast and there was a patch of ice. Whoosh!” She swings her other arm up into the air. “I fell, the bottle smashed, and then I was bleeding and my friend Hannah wasfreakingout. Oh, my God. She was so scared.”
Snow giggles to herself and then trails off as if something in her thoughts sobered her amusement.
“I heard what happened to Caleb,” I say softly, my gaze down while I tie the last stitches. “I’m sorry, Snow.”
“It’s whatever,” she mutters. “He was a dick.”
“Was he?” I glance up, and tears cling in the corners of her eyes.
“Mhm. I told him as much because I hate him. And he hates me. And then he…” She hiccups again. “He stole my car, so it’s his own fault for… for…” Her face crumples.
“He must have meant a lot to you.”
“No, he didn’t,” Snow gasps, sniffling. “I don’t know why it makes me sad because he was horrible. He was just my ex but he… he died in my car. Because of fucking course he did. He had to screw me one last time, even in death.”
Her ex?
No one mentioned that in the gossip circling the hospital.
Finishing her stitches, I clean the area and start winding a fresh bandage over her wound.
“Regardless,” I say, keeping my tone gentle. “You’ve lost someone who was part of your life. That has impact, regardless of who they are.”
“Why are you being nice to me?” She sniffles, and when I look up at her, tears roll slowly down her cheeks.
“Because we’re friends,” I reply. “It’s what we do.”
“Friends,” she murmurs, hiccupping again. “Are my friends waiting for me?”
“No, Snow. I’m sorry. They left you here.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders sag as I apply the last curl of the bandage and secure it in place with tape.
“There you go. All patched up. I’ll get you some painkillers and then you’ll be good to go home.”
“Right.” Snow nods and curls her arm into her abdomen. “Thanks.”
She looks so defeated and forlorn on the bed, swinging her legs back and forth while I stand at the desk quickly filling in her paperwork and prescription for the antibiotics and painkillers.
Sending her home in this state doesn’t feel like the wisest move, but there’s no comfort to be had in a hospital.
A need grows within my chest. I won’t be able to rest until I know she’s okay, and I won’t get that here.
Once the prescription is filled, I approach her and enclose us within the curtain once more.
“Here, these are for you. One is for the pain and the other will help fight any infection.”
“Thanks.” She takes the bag and winces. “Ow.”
“Come home with me, Snow.” The words are out of me before I’ve even fully contemplated the risk I’m taking.
