A/N: I'm sorry this is short, but my mind's just... melted with this English heatwave! Agh! Enjoy!
I sit, perched on the edge of a chair, in Lester's kitchen – watching the man himself gazing worriedly in my direction. The doctor, a close friend of Lester's (he's assured me), kneels in front of me, studying the angry marks left on my neck.
"I've told you I'm fine." My voice comes out somewhat croaky, from a lack of use since this morning's events. I've been here, at the kitchen table, attempting to get some work done in utter silence just to occupy my mind. I can't think about what happened, I just can't. Anger, fear and disappointment flood through me if I do.
The doctor smiles kindly at me once he finishes inspecting my injuries, gets to his feet, and looks between me and Lester.
"She seems to be perfectly fine." He says to Lester.
"That's good." Says the latter, as they both turn to me.
The doctor speaks.
"It looks like you'll have some bruising for awhile, and it'll be uncomfortable to move your head from side to side too much, but painkillers should be able to ease the worst of it. You're really quite lucky actually, if they'd grabbed you any lower with the amount of force they exerted onto your neck..." he trails off, pointing out the expanse of skin directly in the middle of my collarbone, where the bone curves into crescent and the skin, lacking the hard tracheal cartilage, is exceptionally soft, "... well, let's just say you wouldn't exactly be here."
Afterwards, as the doctor's zipping up the medical kit he never used, Lester shows me to the spare room and talks me through how the ensuite shower works. I sit on the edge of the bed after he leaves, and listen to the voices echoing down the corridor towards me. I can't make out most of it, save for a few words, words which chill my spine: "lucky...not brain damage...or comatose."
Sometime after the front door closes, Lester appears in the doorway, looking somewhat awkward.
"Are you okay?" His voice is soft and low.
"I'll be alright." I force a smile, mainly for his benefit and reassurance than mine.
He continues to stare at me, wearing a slight frown of unease, "You know... I understand that I'm probably one of the last people you'd want to confide in, but... uh... I am here, I will be here, if... you know, you want to ever talk... about anything, you know, not just what happened today."
"Thank you," I pause, our eyes locking, "I appreciate it."
I spend the night between waking and sleeping, the pain in my neck now just a dull ache, but replaced with a tight stiffness.
It still burns when I breathe.
Please review,
GPR