Drabble Twenty-One : Bedside Manner
I wake up in the hospital, laid out with a drip plugged into my left arm, feeding me fluids. Nothing's casted. But I'm really sore and I can feel stitches in my mouth and a bandage around my forehead. Slowly, I turn my head to the side and blink my eyes into focus. The motion causes a horrible headache.
Beside of my bed, Mandy is curled up in some uncomfortable looking recliner, a hospital blanket wrapped around her. She's fast asleep. The clock on the nightstand behind her tells me it's barely past six in the afternoon. Mandy's school bag is at her feet.
I groan and raise my right hands to touch my bruised and swollen face. It hurts, so I stop and pull my hand back. My knuckles are banged up from fighting back. I study the scabs and deep colors. So dark I can barely make out the words printed there. My shoulder is practically on fire from this action, so I lower my limb. Sighing, I stare at Mandy again.