Author's Note: WARNING Some graphic content.
Please keep reviewing! Are people feeling like I'm updating too frequently? I can cut back if that will make the story more enjoyable.
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Jesus:
The ride to the hospital is really quiet. Mariana and Brandon are leaning back against the seat and listening to their iPods, and Jude has his eyes closed and his forehead pressed against the window. I know the kid hasn't been sleeping. He's always a little pale, but this morning he looks like someone dunked him in a bucket of white-out, and he's got bags under his eyes.
Mama says to leave him alone, but I can tell she's worried about him. She tried to make him eat a big pile of pancakes at breakfast, but he barely ate anything, even though they're his favorite. I didn't even take them, I felt so bad for him. I left his plate in the fridge in case he wants it later.
Mom called earlier and said that Callie's going to be up and walking around today and she thinks it might be a good time to come see her. I'm not sure if Callie thinks so, or just mom. I want to see Callie, but I don't know if it's such a good idea for Brandon and Mariana. Mariana seemed pretty shaken up when she saw Callie through the door, and she wouldn't talk about it afterwards. Brandon either.
At least this time I remembered to take my pill and bring my laptop, so the worst that can happen is we spend another few hours chilling in the waiting room.
Lena pulls the car over in front of the main entrance, and I look up at her, surprised.
"Why aren't you parking?" I ask her.
She glances at Jude, who's still out.
"I have to go to the bail hearing."
My jaw drops.
"They're going to give him bail?"
"Shhh!" Lena hushes me, looking at Jude and Mariana. Mariana and Brandon take their earbuds out.
"What's going on?" Brandon asks.
"I have an errand to run. You guys go in. Have Jude tell Mom you're here. No going in Callie's room until she says it's okay. Got it?"
We all nod, and Lena puts a gentle hand on Jude's shoulder.
"Jude, it's time to wake up. We're at the hospital."
Jude opens his eyes and immediately unbuckles his seatbelt. He's got a red patch on his forehead where it was pressed against the window. The three of us get out of the car and Lena drives off. I watch her car disappear. If Liam gets out, how will we protect Callie? And what about the rest of my family?
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Stef:
Watching Callie have her stitches checked is one of the worst things I've ever seen in my life. Yesterday it broke her down so much she was throwing up. Today, nothing. She cries out as the doctor eases her legs apart, but then she doesn't make another sound. I'm holding her hand, but her fingers are limp in mine, and she's staring at the ceiling like she can see herself reflected in it. The doctor reaches for some antibacterial wipes and I grip her hand more tightly, but Callie doesn't even seem to notice. She's completely shut down, staring upwards with wide, dead eyes. I never thought I'd want her to be throwing up or crying like she was yesterday, but seeing her check out like this is worse.
The doctor finishes and stands up.
"You're doing a lot better, Callie. I think it's time we take you off the catheter, and get you moving around. You ready?"
Callie's still staring at the ceiling, but she gives an almost imperceptible nod. I'm sure she's lying, but I don't say anything. The doctors made me move around as soon as possible after my surgery too. They said it prevents blood clots and creates better blood flow so your body can heal. Given Callie's injuries, I'm not sure she can handle it. But she's tough, and I know she's going to try her damnedest.
A nurse comes in and starts to lift up the sheet to take out Callie's catheter, but I stop her.
"Callie, do you want me to go?"
Callie nods.
I leave the room. A microscopic, emotional part of me is disappointed that she wanted me to leave, but the rest of my brain understands. She needed me to get through the pain of checking the stitches, and she needed my presence to remind her she was safe while a man examined her body. But this isn't painful or frightening; it's humiliating for her. She needs to get some control of her body back. Hopefully having the catheter taken out and moving around will help that.
I wait outside until the nurse calls me back in.
"We're going to go very slowly today," the nurse tells us. "Just to the bathroom, so you can try."
Callie turns red and she won't look at me. The nurse presses a button to raise the back of the bed. Callie's blood pressure goes up on the monitor, and I can tell this position is hurting her ribs.
The nurse notices too.
"It will feel a lot better when you're standing," she tells Callie. Callie nods. The nurse pulls the blankets back from the bed, and I hesitate. It didn't occur to me before, but Callie is naked under her hospital gown. She's tiny and the hospital gown is tied, but when she starts moving around…
I reach into the backpack full of clothes that the kids brought for her and pull out some underwear and sweatpants and hand them to the nurse. I go outside again. It takes a while before the nurse calls me back. I'm guessing they had a hard time squeezing the clothing over the cast on her right leg.
When I come back Callie's not only dressed, her right arm has been taken out of the device holding it in place and positioned in a sling that's bound to her body. I can tell even without looking at the monitors that she's in a lot of pain. Many of the tubes and wires are dangling off the machines, no longer connected to her arms. The nurse hands Callie a couple of pills and some water, and she takes them quickly.
"Antibiotics and pain pills," the nurse tells me. The sight of the pills makes me feel weak. There's something else I forgot. I can't believe I didn't remember to ask.
"Nurse?" I motion her into the hallway. When the door shuts behind us I ask,
"Was Callie given some kind of morning after pill?"
The nurse nods.
"Standard practice after a rape. Even when no fluids are present."
I exhale. I, of all people, should have remembered to ask that the moment she came out of surgery, but between the worry over Callie and the anxiety about my job enquiry, I completely forgot.
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Callie:
Getting out of bed is impossible. I try to help, but I can't push up with my arms and I can't use my stomach muscles well because of my ribs, so the most I can do is not resist as everyone hauls me around like a sack of flour. It feels like it takes half an hour of torture before Stef, the nurse, and an orderly have me sitting up with my legs hanging off the bed. I'm ready to lie back down and jam the morphine back into my arm, but that clearly isn't going to happen. They let me take a minute to rest though, and hand me some water to drink before I have to stand up.
The nurse brings over a walker with tennis balls on the bottom, like people use in nursing homes. The nurse and the orderly wrap an arm around my back and pull me to a standing position.
My head spins and I nearly fall over on top of them, but they catch me and hold me steady while the blood rushes away from my head. I haven't stood up in days, and my vision is going grey at the edges.
After a minute the head rush stops and I can see again. My heart is racing, but no machines go off. They took off the wires so I could move around.
I try to hold on to the walker with my left hand but the metal handle bumps against my cast, and I can't curl my fingers around it. My right arm is in a sling that's tied to my body, so that hand is useless. Finally the nurse seems to realize it can't be done, and she takes the walker away. She and the orderly keep an arm around me, supporting my weight, while Stef hovers anxiously behind me. I wonder if she's expecting me to faint.
I refuse to give in. I take a tiny step, and I have to bit the inside of my lip to keep from yelling. The tiniest step feels like I'm being drawn and quartered.
Unbelievably slowly, I take another step, and then another. Stef, who has apparently decided I'm not going to pass out, has come around in front and is standing by the bathroom door, waiting for me like I'm a toddler who's learning how to walk. I guess I kind of am. I have never felt this young and this old at the same time in my life. At least, not physically.
The minutes drag by. I have to stop and rest every couple of steps. My right leg is throbbing in its cast, but my left one is okay, so I try to lean all my weight on it. I know right away that that is a mistake. The nurse struggles as I tilt towards her, and Stef lunges forward to help. I guess it is good she was so close by. Stef basically elbows the nurse out of the way, and starts carrying me herself. With her help, the steps come a little faster. I can feel my muscles creaking apart, trying to loosen after so many hours lying still. The internal pain is indescribable. I wasn't awake for what Liam did to me. But every step is a reminder that he did it.
By the time we reach the bathroom door that's on the other side of the room, I'm panting and sweating like I've run a marathon. The orderly starts to pull over a chair for me, but the nurse stops him.
"It will be easier if you can stay standing," she tells me. I want to collapse, but I nod and grip Stef's arm as tightly as my fingers can manage. She's incredibly strong for someone so thin. She could probably carry me around this room, casts and all.
I look up at her. Her eyes are worried but she looks proud, too. She smiles at me, a real smile.
"It's time to try in the bathroom," the nurse says.
"Ooh! Me next!" Stef raises her hand. I burst out laughing, my embarrassment ebbing away.
Stef helps the nurse get me inside, then she goes back into the room before I even have to ask her. She gets things, that woman.
The nurse helps me sit down on the toilet seat.
"You remember what we talked about?'
I do.
But that in no way prepares me for the amount of dried blood that comes out.
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Next time...who's ready for some sibling reunions?