“Sofia, you’re so mean. Why are all the nurses so mean here? I’m adding that to my review too.” I clutch my heart, not being dramatic. Making a point. “Did Mas do this to you? Turned you against me? You only want him now, huh?”
I jut my lip out. Pouting. What else can I do? Everything about my situation sucks. Massimo growls low in his throat. She elbows him again, but her cheeks are warm pink. The nurse finally tapes the last edge down and pats my shoulder, as if that matters. I flop back, sweaty and violated.
“Good job. You earned an extra jello,” Helga the Horrible patronizes me.
“Fuck jello. I’m sick of that shit. Mas, this is bullshit. You people enjoy my suffering,” I whine, because why not?
There’s nothing else to do. I can’t reach my phone to Snap my friends. The television here is shit with only ten channels. Half are bullshit like the hospital channel, some shopping channel, and fucking news. Who watches that shit?
“Walk time,” the mean nurse sings like it’s a fucking song.
Drops the crutches against my bed with a clatter and yanks back my covers. I stare at them like they’re venomous snakes.
“Oh, hell no. You just flayed my ass. My ribs are stabbing my lungs every fucking time I breathe. And my soul is shattered. My traitorous brother doesn’t give a shit. My old nurse is laughing at my ass. And you want me to hop around like a deranged flamingo?”
Massimo ignores me. Sofia shakes her head and rolls her eyes. I do it right back to them.
“I hate this family,” I mutter, grabbing the crutches anyway. “I hope you get food poisoning. I hope wherever you take her, you get the shits. Squishes all in your pants, and she dumps your ass. Takes a car home and leaves you sitting in your shit like a fucking baby.”
“Suck it up, man. Like Sofia told you yesterday, this is only the beginning of a long road.”
Mas’s hand cups her waist. I want to do that. I hate him. I hate her. I hate both of them.
“You guys suck. At least get me a hot home nurse. One that looks like a stripper,” I argue back. “With big titties that hang in my face when she changes the dressing.”
No one responds.
It’s bullshit.
The nurse’s hands are on me as I grunt and groan, moving out of bed. My gown flaps open in the back. My ass is hanging out. I don’t give a shit. Let her see how thick and muscular it is. I got a better ass than most of those girls twerking on TikTok. I’d show her my skills, but when I tried to show Sofia one time, it hurt like a motherfucker.
Pain shoots all over my fucking body. Instant sweat springs up on my skin. My head is fucking pounding. I pant like I’m giving birth to a damn baby. That stupid breathing pattern my angel taught me the first few days in ICU. Now she’s staring at my twin like he fucking hung the moon. I hate this place.
“Sofia already found a guy to come to the house that?—”
“A dude? Fuck that!” I yell, then moan in pain.
The nurse has a hand on my back. Why? The fuck if I know. If I fell, she couldn’t pick me up, no matter how hard she tried.
“I want a hot Puerto Rican chick. Glossy DSLs. Fat ass and thick thighs. Has a hot nickname for me. That’s who I want as my home nurse.”
I basically describe my angel. She merely smiles when Helga the Horrible glances at her. Mas ignores me. Too busy staring at her. Ugh, it’s always like this with them.
Sweat rolls from every pore.
The crutches hurt my underarms, no matter how many towels they tape to the rubber thing. The dressing fucking kills me from where she ripped my guts out. Everything yanks on everything else. It’s a fucking domino of pain that has black fucking dots dancing in my vision. But I clear the door to my room like a fucking champ. Just like I have the last few days.
“Looking good, Em.”
I stop and flip Mas off. They walk ahead of us with my nurse behind me. Her hand plasters to my sweaty back after she ties up my gown. I’m hobbling, and they’re about to leave. It’s the same fucking shit. Day after day. But I’d be a bastard if I didn’t notice how happy Mas looks. Less worried, and the swollen red eyes he had for days are gone.
“Why does this hurt even more today than yesterday?” I grumble to Helga, even if her name tag says Brandy.
She ignores me like Mas does when I complain. Each step with the crutches is another complaint. The rhythm of using them is the same every damn time. Crutches creak. Foot shuffles. Cuss and groan.
“I fucking hate this place.”
Creak
