“At least wait until the police get here,” Lily argues. “Don’t you want them to catch the men who did this?”
“No.” I stare at her for a long moment before turning my attention back to Zach. “I already know who’s responsible.”
“Can you even breathe properly?” Lily demands and my shoulders slump forward, trying to find a new position for my rib cage that won’t hurt as much as my current one does.
“I’m fine.” I straighten and send a grin straight at Sierra, making her blush. So cute.
Even cuter is Lily’s nostril flare. Give me another few minutes and she’ll happily dump me on the side of the road without bothering to slow the vehicle.
“At least take some painkillers.”
I sling an arm around Lily’s shoulders, appreciating anew how short she is. Not as tiny as Em but close to it. “They gave me paracetamol, aspirin, and codeine already. How many drugs do you want me to take?”
“Not for now. You need a prescription and for that you need to wait for the doctor.”
“I’ve already seen a doctor.”
“Yeah. One who told you they want to keep you in overnight.”
I straighten, taking my arm back and walking across the room. It only takes all of my concentration to get there. Once I push through the door, I need a moment to steer in a new direction, then painstakingly start the walk to the lifts.
“Christ’s sake, you’re annoying.” Zach turns up on one side while Lily takes the other.
“I try my best.”
The ride home is strange. My grip on my thoughts is tenuous. They float all over the place, the same way they do just before I fall into a dream. Except now, there’s no blessed release into sleep. I jerk myself upright, setting a new cacophony of pain signals blaring, each time it seems like I’m in danger of falling.
There’s another ten minutes of cajoling before they leave me at home, even though my mother’s there, doing her best impersonation of a competent adult.
She’d followed my ambulance to hospital, holding my hand in the emergency room and asking medical personnel to repeat themselves whenever their explanations grew too convoluted.
Once the worst of it was over, she grew increasingly agitated. Never a fan of hospitals, she couldn’t wait to escape, and the moment Zach and his entourage turned up, she was out of there.
A favour I’m planning to return.
“We can order in,” she says from the dining table as I watch through the side window to make sure Zach’s really gone. “What d’you feel like?”
“I need to go.”
If she’s surprised by my pronouncement, she hides it well. “I’m not the poster child for following doctor’s orders but don’t you think you deserve a rest?”
“I’ll rest tomorrow. There are still things I need to do today.”
“Such as?”
“Can you help me load some equipment into my car?”
Her frown grows deeper the longer she stares at me. “Did you make a doctor’s appointment?”
For a second, I haven’t got a clue what’s she saying, then I remember. “Yeah. For Thursday. Your meds aren’t working properly.”
“Right.” She drums her fingers on the table. “So, when you called Dr Urdahl, it wasn’t for yourself?”
I straighten too quickly and pull a dozen muscles, all of them relaying in very loud voices exactly why that’s a bad idea. “Why would I make an appointment for me?”
Mum gets up from her seat and walks over, taking my face between her hands. “I mightn’t be the best example of mental health, but this isn’t as bad as you think.”
Of all the discussions I need to have right now, the one about my potential genetic inheritance isn’t part of them.
