I shrug.
He raises an eyebrow.
“It’s not as bad as it was. The headaches come and go, but the pain meds you gave me help.”
“Good. I’m going to remove your stitches today. You can even wash your hair if you want to, just be careful.”
“Thanks.” I sigh. I know I should be excited, but what’s the point in washing my hair and making it nice when I know I have a big chunk taken out of it.
His brow creases. Then, he moves to his bag and pulls out a little blade and a pair of tweezers. “Won’t hurt too much,” he says before getting started on pulling the stitches free.
I stare into space, trying not to let the icky tug and pull feeling make me sick. My stomach rolls, and I try not to dry heave. “Have you got any music on your phone? I need a distraction.”
He stops what he’s doing and pulls out his phone. “Let me see, something classical to ease the nerves?”
I scrunch up my face. “If I can’t dance, I don’t want classical. What about pop? You got something more upbeat?”
He grins and types something into his phone. “Pop hits 2000 more like it?”
I shrug and give him a half-smile. “It’ll do.”
He hits play, and Beyonce’s “If I Were a Boy” plays through his phone. My eyes narrow as I smirk back at him. That’s a little too fitting for the shit I’ve been dealing with this morning.
He shrugs. “My girl’s been in my phone.” He laughs, getting back to work on my stitches.
“Was she trying to tell you something?” I ask, a little curious about him. I’ve gotten to know him a little this week while he’s been looking after me.
“She gets a kick out of messing with my stuff just to prove she’s in control.” The way he smiles as he talks about her is adorable. And distracting enough that I let him finish the job he’s here for.
When he’s done, he wipes over the area with something that smells like disinfectant. Then, he packs away his tools into his bag.
My fingers run over my head, the shaved part making me wince, not in pain but disgust, because I know the horror show I must look like. At least when the bandage was there, I had something to cover it all up and hide behind.
“The boys have a nice outdoor pool out the back. You can’t swim yet, but it’s a beautiful day out there. Might be nice to laze in the sun a little,” he suggests.
“Thanks, yeah, maybe,” I mutter. If that’s within the rules of my three guards, and since I can’t leave the house without them, I’m sure it’s not.
His eyes run over my face. “How are you feeling other than the pain?”
I look up at him, wondering what he’s asking. He’s looked me over and said it was all going well.
He moves to sit beside me on my bed. “Mentally, emotionally? You’ve been through a lot; it would be normal for you to be experiencing some new feelings. Or maybe just not feel quite yourself yet.”
I sigh heavily. He has no idea. “Anything I tell you, I’m sure will just go back to them.” I motion to the open door. One of them is probably standing in the hallway listening in right now.
He stands and moves to close the door. “Doctor-patient privilege, you can tell me anything and I won’t pass it on to the boys.”
I want to believe him, I really do. He looks so genuine, and I have no one else. I sigh heavily, trying to release the tension, but it’s no use. I’m coiled up so damn tightly. “I’m confused, I guess. But most of all, I’m so fucking angry.”
He nods. “That’s understandable after what you’ve been through, the trauma and the loss. Your life will look different from how you imagined.”
I lock my eyes with his. “No, Ricky, it’s like there is this rage coursing through me I can’t control. I want to make them pay. I have never felt anger like this before.”
“The Stryker brothers?” he asks, his brow furrowing. “I think they’re doing everything they can to help you, aren’t they? If I’m wrong, tell me and I will get you out of here right now.”
I glance back at him. Nice to know I have that option if I need it. “Not the boys. My family,” I seethe, my voice like venom. “I want them to feel the pain I have. I want them to suffer. To lose everything they care about and have their worlds turned upside down. I want them to know what it feels like to be nothing to the people you loved most in this world.” I place a hand on my head as it throbs with pain, the anger getting the better of me.
Ricky smiles softly. “I can understand you’re feeling angry. Right now, though, you need to focus on yourself. Take this time to recover, to get stronger, and when you’re back to your normal self, we can revisit this conversation and see if you still feel as angry.”
