Blue's gaze darts to me, then back to the doctor. Her voice comes out small. "I was doing dishes. The glass slipped. I tried to catch it, and it shattered in my hand."
Dr. Patel nods, with no judgment in his expression. I'm sure he's heard worse stories and seen worse lies. Blue's is believable, so he doesn't question it and replies, "Accidents happen. We'll get some local anesthetic, remove the fragment, clean it, and close it with sutures. Probably six or seven. You'll need to keep it dry and elevated for a few days. Any other injuries?"
Blue hesitates a fraction too long. "No."
He tilts his head. "Are you sure?"
She nods. "Yes. Sorry. I'm shook up over this. I hate blood."
He studies her a moment, looks at me, then back at her. "Alright. I'll have the nurse start an IV for pain meds and antibiotics, just in case. We'll get X-rays to make sure there's no more serious damage." He steps out and speaks to someone.
I put my arm around Blue and kiss her head again.
A tech takes her to get imaging done. She comes back and a nurse appears with supplies.
Blue flinches when the needle goes in for the lidocaine, but she stays quiet. I keep my hand on her shoulder, my thumb stroking small circles. She reaches up with her good hand and grips my wrist like a lifeline.
When the doctor returns, he announces, "Good news. X-rays are clear of any more serious damage." He checks that the area is numb and uses tweezers to extract the shard.
He almost has it out when Blue hisses through clenched teeth.
"Sorry, thought we numbed it up enough," he offers, then flushes the wound thoroughly. He yanks the rest of it out, and she winces. He sutures the wound with neat, even stitches, applies a fresh dressing, then instructs, "Take all the antibiotics until they are gone. The stitches will dissolve. Follow up with your primary in a week to check healing. If the pain gets worse, redness spreads, or you develop a fever, come back immediately."
Blue nods mutely.
"Thank you, Dr.," I say.
"Sure. Take care." He disappears.
A nurse arrives with discharge paperwork. I take it and lead Blue through the hospital.
She leans into me. Her voice is barely audible. "Thank you."
I kiss the top of her head. "Always." I tug her closer to me.
Outside, the rain has stopped. The night air is cold and clean. I help her into the car and secure her buckle. She falls asleep against the window on the drive home.
She barely wakes when I slide my arms under her body and get herout of the car. She snuggles into my chest as I carry her into the building. I unlock her front door and get her settled in bed.
The shattered mirror still glares from the vanity, and lipstick, stuck with pins, mocks me under the hallway light. So I quietly clean it all up and take her vanity out of her apartment and toss it in the dumpster.
When I return, there's no more evidence of her afternoon nightmare. I slide in bed beside her, pull her against my chest, and listen to her steady breathing, wondering how I'm going to get her to stop hurting herself.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Blue
Pain shoots through my hand. I wince and moan, slowly waking up with my face mashed into the pillow, my mouth dry, and my head throbbing like someone took a hammer to the inside of my skull.
For one blessed second, everything is blank before yesterday's event resurfaces. The broken mirror, lipstick tubes, pins, bloody bandages, and the way I sobbed into Red's chest while he cleaned me up all fly at me. The last thing I remember is the hospital, lying to the doctor about the dishes, and Red putting me in the car.
I squeeze my eyes shut, wondering if I don't open them, if I can pretend last night was a dream.
But the mattress dips. Red's awake, and I feel his gaze like heat on my skin.
I crack one eye. He sits up against the headboard, bare-chested, arms crossed, watching me with that steady, unreadable calm that seems like he's able to peel me open.
My stomach lurches. Shame floods in so fast, I taste it. I humiliated myself in front of him again. But it wasn't just the self-harm. The AI photos I made and sent to him pop into my mind, and I cringe, "Ugh."
