"Yes, she's here. She's actually making dinner for us. I'll go get her." Gran stepped into the kitchen holding the phone against her shoulder. "Maria, your father would like to have a word with you."
I place the Sheppard's Pie I was pulling out of the oven onto the counter before I walked over to her side. Once I had the phone in my hand, she kissed my cheek. That gave me a moment of pause because the entire time I had been at her house, she hadn't shown her affection for me in any way other than verbally.
"Hey Daddy… what's up?"
"Mia, I'm really sorry to do this but I need you to cut your vacation short and come home. We're on lock down because things have taken a turn for the worst."
I looked back towards the kitchen asking, "And you don't think I'll be safe here?"
"I'd rather play it safe right now. Baby Girl… They killed Phil and V-Lin and mutilated their bodies. I don't know… I… I'd rather not take my chances with your safety right now."
"What?! That's… that's… fuh… err… What monsters. Okay Daddy, I'll leave as soon as I get packed and have explained everything to Gran."
"I've already told her you have to cut your visit short."
"Oh? Okay. I guess I'll just pack as fast as I can and head to TM."
"Thank you. Drive safe, Baby Girl. I love you."
"I love you too, Daddy. See you soon."
I placed the phone back on its cradle and then walked back into the kitchen. Gran was folding the top of a paper bag over. I just stood and watched her because I wanted a second to try to figure out what she was doing.
When I couldn't, I called out, "Gran?"
She jumped slightly at the sound of my voice. She then looked up at me and laughed nervously. "I didn't hear you come in. We need to put some meat on your bones." She then passed the bag to me saying, "I made you a sandwich and packed a couple of granola bars along with an apple and cheese string for you to eat on the drive home."
"Gran, you didn't have to do that."
"Yes, I did, Maria. You'll waste away on all of us if you keep missing meals."
I almost laughed at that because since being at her house I hadn't missed a single meal. In fact, I had actually eaten twice as much as I usually did because she kept dishing me food, even when I insisted I was full.
But she was my father's mother, so I knew resistance was futile. So, I took the bag from her with a heartfelt 'thank you' and then rushed to my room to pack my bag.
XXXXXXX
As an employee of Teller Morrow Automotive I was at risk now that the Irish were upset and annoyed with the Sons of Anarchy, but Happy being my father was the primary reason that my life was in danger. Had I been able to keep my paternity under wraps then I probably could have stayed out of the worst of this fight, but as Happy's daughter I could practically feel the target I had on my back. That's why I dropped everything, including an escape in the land of California League baseball and time with my Grandmother, to return to Charming and join the rest of the MC and their families for lockdown at the clubhouse.
Before making my way to my place of employment, I decided to stop at my home to pack another bag and some other essentials. I wasn't sure what the other old ladies, girlfriends, children and whoever else was hunkering down with us would be into, but I was hoping some board games, cards and all the alcohol I could find in my house could be of help. I had barely slipped my truck into park before I jumped out to run in and pack everything I thought I might need or the next few days. (I was really hoping this whole lockdown thing wouldn't last more than that because anything more than a few days in tight quarters with everyone… okay, Juice, would be excruciating.)
That was a choice I would soon live to regret.
XXXXXXX
When I woke up, I was laying on my right side in the middle of my kitchen floor. I tried to move my left hand to the spot at the back of my head that was throbbing so bad that I knew it had to be bleeding, but my arm wouldn't move. I then tried to move my right hand just to see if I could, but it was just as dead as my right.
What the fuck? What is happening to me?
A pair of white skater sneakers paced past my face as a frantic boy with a Scottish accent mumbled to himself. At first, I couldn't make out what he was saying, but I focused everything I had on listening to his words and finally I thought I could make out what he was saying.
"You were supposed to be a Son. Da fuck is going here?"
He continued to pace for a few seconds until he looked down and noticed that my eyes were open. I think I tried to close them then, but just like everything else on my body, they didn't listen. Or maybe my survival instincts were over-riding my brain and trying to keep an eye on this random guy who had broken into my house and assaulted me.
"Shit…" He cursed out softly to himself as he moved towards my small kitchen table.
I couldn't move my eyes enough or my head in any way to fully follow his movements, but I forced myself not to panic. I did, however, feel my eyes unconsciously widen as I tried to open my mouth and scream when I saw the syringe he had in his hand when he returned to my side.
"Don't fight… Ha… Not that you can," he said with a shit eating smirk on his stupid face as he poked the thin needle into my face near my left jawbone.
Since he had given me something that had paralyzed my whole body and numbed the pain that I knew I should be feeling through about ninety percent of it (I had a raging headache, so I was guessing that he had hit me over the head with something to knock me out initially), I hadn't felt that he had cut away my shirt. Or maybe he did it when I was knocked out. Yeah, that would make a lot of sense too. But either way, I now was laying in the middle of my kitchen with my bra on display to the whole room along with my thistle tattoo.
He gave whatever he had injected into my face a minute or two to take effect by becoming completely enamored with my tattoo. I saw him tap the end of his blade against my tattoo while he seemed to talk to himself. "After seeing this, I don't truly believe your Dah is a wet back Spic. Uncle Filip has been keeping you close, too close, so I canna help but wonder if it's more than BROTHERLY love that's keeping ya at his side." He then touched the very tip of the blade to the apple of my cheek and asked, "I wonder if he'll finally admit the truth once you two have matching scars."
No… no… NO! I screamed in my mind because my face was completely frozen. NO! What the fuck is happening? Why…? WHY is this happening?!
He walked away again and moved towards the kitchen table. I guess he had put his bag of 'toys' there because I could hear him rummaging through it. When he returned, he showed me a hunting knife with a blade at least twice the size of the one he had been holding while he paced in front of me just moments ago.
Oh fuck! Fuck no! That won't just scar me, I'll lose my whole fucking face!
He kneeled down beside me for some reason and he almost tearfully apologized, "You were supposed to be a boy… a Son… I'm… I'm sorry, but I… I… I have to ruin your beautiful face. I don't want to, but… but I have to."
He then stood up and dropped his new blade to the floor in front of my face. Okay, now he was really fucking with my head. If he wanted… err needed to cut me up, fine. He had pumped me up with enough shit that I'd be aware of what was happening without the agony of feeling it, so what the fuck was he doing now?
I listened as his feet moved further into the room, but I still couldn't track him at all with my eyes. Once his shoes dominated my field of vision again, he bent down far enough that a scalpel's blade became the only thing my eyes could focus on (with a lot of concentrated effort).
"Tell Uncle Filip that I didn't have fun passing down the family trait, but I did what I had to do."
The next time I saw the scalpel's blade, it was covered in blood… MY blood, but thank God I wasn't feeling any pain.
Fuck… fuck… FUCK!
The thought of seeing my blood must have bother him as well because I heard him run to the sink to throw up. And then I started to smell it. Great. I still wasn't able to feel the pain I knew I should be emanating from my wound, I could feel the river of blood pooling at the base of my neck and then I felt it dripping from my shoulder to the floor.
My 'genius' punisher must have forgotten the shelf life of the shit he had injected into me. My face was still completely numb, but I could now feel pins and needles all over my body, which told me that the rest of my body was starting to wake up. Huh, maybe I was numb from being knocked out and not a drug… maybe.
Even though I really wanted to check which limbs I could control once again, I forced myself not to move at all as I heard him walk back over to my side. I was so tempted to try to run or lash out immediately, but I knew that the only way I could get out of this mess was if I had the element of surprise on my side, so I had to wait for my opportunity.
This time I actually felt the cold steel of the scalpel brush against the skin above my left hip as he mused out loud, "Not sure it goes with the thistle, but the happy face sure is cute… the skull's a little… disturbing."
He then stood up and used the ball of his right foot against my left shoulder to try to push me over. When one kick didn't do the trick, he stepped back to try another with more force. Before he could land a second blow, I kicked out with my left foot with as much power as I could muster from this position. Him screaming out incoherently at the top of his lungs told me that I had hit my intended target of his kneecap. But him crumbling to the floor confirmed it for me in spades.
I quickly, well as quickly as my limbs would allow, grabbed the monster knife he had dropped and forgotten about before he used a surgical tool to open up my face. He was so focused on his own pain and screaming that he didn't notice anything that I was doing.
He continued to writhe and scream until I thrust his blade into his throat. Even then, he continued to emit a disgustingly wet gurgling sound as he tried to take in a few breaths until he finally stopped moving and making any sound at all.
I flopped back onto my kitchen floor while I waited for the blessed sound of silence. I could feel blood pouring down the front of my body, but I still wasn't able to feel the actual wound that was causing the blood at all. Since he wasn't actively trying to hurt me, I just laid back until he stopped making any sound and any twitching.
XXXXXX
Either whatever drugs he gave me were kicking in again or the blood I lost caused me to lose consciousness. When I woke up, I felt a searing, burning pain coming from my left cheek that nearly caused me to scream out my agony, but I couldn't move my face. This time my lack of movement wasn't because of the drugs he had given me, instead it was because of the pain of the gaping wound on my cheek that kept me from moving it in any way or it was the gaping wound itself.
Luckily, everything else he had given and done to me seemed to have run its course because I was finally able to move the rest of my body with ease. I quickly scrambled to my feet and had to stopped to get my bearings because of the head rush the fast movement of standing up had given me.
I tripped over the corpse on my kitchen floor as I moved to my phone on the kitchen island. I pulled it off its cradle and immediately dialed 911. When the operator came on the line, I simply answered a stifled 'Help me' in reply. I was calling from a landline, so I was sure that they would have my location and I hoped that would be enough to get help coming my way.
Thankfully it must have been enough because when I woke up again, I was sitting with my back against the side of my island in the middle of the room and I heard Deputy Cane say into his radio, "I need EMS Code Three. And Lieutenant Roosevelt…? Sir…? It's Mia... Uhh... Happy Lowman's daughter… I think she's the one that called. It looks like someone tried to cut up her face, but after the first cheek she stopped him… permanently."
I don't think he noticed that I was awake because he then started to give instructions to someone about needing to take photos of everything, including my wound. He stopped suddenly when he heard me gurgle out a noise. Once he was down on his knees on my right side, a gloved hand cupped my jaw while he asked, "Mia? Mia…? Can you hear me?"
I turned my eyes to make direct eye contact with him to make sure he could tell that I heard him. He didn't seem persuaded by that, so I opened my mouth to try to ask for help, but all that came out was a painfilled, anguished cry.
"Shh… Don't try to talk. An ambulance is on its way because it looks like that cut is deep and I'm sure talking will only make it worse."
I felt my eyebrows move as I scowled one of the many questions that had formed while listening to him. The deputy seemed to understand what I was trying to ask because he answered, "I'm no medical expert, but I'm pretty sure I can see muscle."
That caused me to sputter out a breath as tears spilled down my cheeks, which caused a whole new onslaught of pain as the salty tears hit the wound. His ungloved hand raised up to stroke my hair to try to comfort me even before I started to cry.
"It's okay, Mia. The paramedics will be here soon."
I raised my right hand and made the exaggerated motion of writing in the air. Deputy Cane was as smart as I hoped he would be and caught onto what I was trying to convey quickly. He then pulled out his notebook and pen and pressed each into one of my hands.
DON'T CALL MY DAD.
"But Mia…" He tried to argue.
NO! HE'S OUT OF TOWN ON BUSINESS. DON'T CALL HIM BACK.
"Alright, but…"
MY INSURANCE PAPERS ARE IN MY BACKPACK. IT'S HANGING UP BESIDE MY BACK DOOR. YOU DON'T HAVE TO CALL ANYONE FROM THE SONS TO GET ME MEDICAL TREATMENT, SO THERE'S ZERO REASON TO CALL ANY OF THEM… ESPECIALLY MY DAD.
He read my note then gave me wide eyes. "Okay… Fine… But, what about the body in your kitchen?"
NOT CLUB RELATED. It was a lie, but the good Deputy didn't need to know that right now. GET ME A PUBLIC DEFENDER.
"Mia…"
WOULD YOU SEND ME TO CHOWCILLA WITH THIS STARING YOU IN THE FACE AT COURT?
He looked up at my still bleeding wound and got a sad look in his eyes as he answered, "No. And if I'm being completely honest with you… I will fight the DA and LT myself if either of them tries to classify this as anything other than an act of self-defense."
THANK YOU. I APPRECIATE THAT.
"You're welcome."
He then gave me a warm smile that I wish I could have reciprocated. Instead, I just had to hope he could see the gratefulness in my eyes.
"Holy… Hell…" Lieutenant Roosevelt called out as he walked through my broken back door that the Deputy had kicked in because I hadn't answered my door when he first arrived and was knocking.
I was still sitting on the floor, propped up with my back against my kitchen island. Deputy Cane had a gauze covered ice pack pressed against my still bleeding cheek in the hopes of keeping it from getting any worse.
"What the fu…? What the hell happened?" Roosevelt asked as he knelt down beside his deputy.
I started to open my mouth to answer but Cane stopped me by raising his empty hand to press the bottom of my chin to keep my mouth closed. When he was sure that I wasn't going to try to talk again, he moved his ungloved hand to pick up the notebook resting in my lap saying, "This is what Mia has been able to tell me so far."
Roosevelt took the took the notebook, but didn't read it over before he asked, "Do you know who he is?"
I shook my head, but that didn't seem to put a satisfying look on his face, so I leaned over and pulled the notebook out of the Lieutenant's hand and wrote: I'VE NEVER SEEN THAT PIECE OF SHIT BEFORE IN MY LIFE. HE SAW MY TATTOO… I pointed down to my torso that was still only covered by a small frilly black satin and baby blue lace bra. AND THEN HE STARTED RAMBLING ABOUT GIVING ME SCARS TO MATCH UNCLE FILIP'S.
"Uncle Filip?" The two sheriff's employees asked simultaneously and sounding thoroughly confused.
I tried not to roll my eyes, but I know from the raised eyebrows I saw that I failed miserably. CHIBS! HE WAS TALKING ABOUT CHIBS!
"But… you aren't related to Chibs… Are you?"
This time I didn't try to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Thankfully, that's when the paramedics arrived. They completely took over and there were no more questions directed to me by the Sheriff's department.
Deputy Cane passed one of the paramedics my backpack as they wheeled me out of my house on a stretcher. When he received a questioning look, he explained that it had everything including my insurance papers inside.
As I was being loaded into an ambulance, Lieutenant Roosevelt asked Deputy Cane, "Do you want to call Happy or should I?"
Cane stared at his boss dumbly then answered, "But that's the only thing she specifically asked us not to do."
"True. And if this wasn't club related than we might be able to honor that request."
"But Mia said that it wasn't."
"Right, she did write that on your note pad. But then she wrote right here that he was here to give her scars to match the ones we've grown used to seeing on Chibs' face. THAT right there makes this whole thing club related. So, I'll ask you again' do you call Happy or do I?"
Instead of answering out loud, Cane just rushed to the open door of the ambulance and got inside to ride to the hospital with Mia.
XXXXXXX
I swear I spent more time at the hospital with consultants than I did with an actual doctor. They were confident that they would be able to fix me up with minimal scarring because the wound was so clean from being opened with a surgical blade. Although I was almost in a panic that it was still bleeding, they all seemed to think it was a good thing. Plus, they had a plastic surgeon on staff who could use his practiced hand to stitch it properly and ensure that I wouldn't lose the use of any use of my facial muscles… hopefully.
By the time that doctor made it to my room, Chibs and Juice were taking up space as well. When I tried to get angry with Roosevelt, he just passed me blank notepad and pen for me to voice my tirade.
And he thought that that would stop me? Amateur.
I FUCKING TOLD CANE NOT TO CALL MY DAD OR ANYONE FROM THE MC. I DON'T NEED THEM HERE, IT WON'T CHANGE ANYTHING.
Roosevelt took his time reading over the note then explained in the most condescending voice I have ever heard, "My deputy did tell me about your wishes, Ms. Lowman, but I couldn't ignore the facts that you told me when I questioned you about the dead body in your kitchen."
I growled out a noise as my eyebrows knitted impossibly close together. Eli actually laughed at my reaction then said, "Don't strain yourself, Ms. Lowman. But you did lose quite a bit of blood, so I feel that I should probably remind you of what you told us. It's right here in your own writing (He then pulled out Cane's notebook and flipped to a page near the back.) Right here you wrote that the deceased told you that he'd give you matching scars to 'Uncle Filip'. You told us that that was in reference to Chibs, so I had to do my due diligence and warn him about your attack since it was done in his name."
I glared at Roosevelt as I snatched the notebook he had previously offered me out of his hand.
FUCK! FINE! NICE USE OF SEMANTICS, LT. BUT I NEVER SAID JUAN CARLOS WAS INVOLVED! SO WHY THE FUCK IS JUICE HERE?
Roosevelt read my note and had no qualms of showing how 'shocked' he found my words to be. "My assumption was that Mr. Telford felt that the threat on yours and his life was so severe that it compelled him to think he required security. Given the brutality of your attack and the seriousness of your wound, I can't say that I would be inclined to argue."
I continued to glare at Eli as I wrote:
DOES HE REALLY HAVE TO BE HERE? YOU KNOW MY FEELINGS ABOUT HIS… PRESENCE.
Eli tried to take the note pad from me, but I pulled it out of his reach and passed it to Chibs to read over. Thankfully I didn't have to let the tears that were now pooling in my eyes to fall for him to see how truly incensed I felt about this topic.
He quickly nodded towards the door then said, "Give me and the beautiful Lass a moment alone, please?"
After a few intense glares from me and then Chibs, everyone but the two of us left the room. He made sure that I had the notepad back in my hand and a cold pack on my face before he started our conversation again.
"Mia… Luv… Did he really do this to you because of me?"
I stared at the notepad like I was really contemplating how I wanted to answer his question before I wrote in block letters across nearly the entire page: NO!
"Oh Mia-Luv… Sweet Lass, Lieutenant Roosevelt let me read what you wrote in Deputy Cane's other notebook… Something about the piece of shit wanting to give you scars to match mine…"
WELL IF YOU ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WASTING MY TIME ASKING A STUPID QUESTION?
By the look on his face you would have thought I had reared back and smacked Chibs as hard as I could. I almost felt guilty for being so surly with him. Almost.
"Maria… Mia… I'm sorry Luv, I'm not trying to start a fight with you. I just want to make sure I understand everything that happened. I swear I'm just trying to help."
ME EITHER. BUT MY FACE FUCKING HURTS LIKE HELL… AND THEY WON'T JUST LET ME BLEED TO DEATH. NEXT TIME I WON'T CALL 911 SO I CAN JUST DIE IN PEACE.
"Mia-Luv, don't you be saying nonsense like that. You've done… unbelievably well, Luv. You killed the piece of shite pretending to be my kin and you survived. Don't you dare discount that at all because there aren't many people with your strength."
GREAT. YOU'RE RIGHT I CAN TAKE CARE OF THIS ALL BY MYSELF. WHY DON'T YOU JUST TELL ROOSEVELT THE TRUTH ABOUT WHO HE WAS AND GO? JUST… GET THE FUCK OUT. YOU BEING HERE WON'T CHANGE THE FACT THAT HE CUT UP THE LEFT SIDE OF MY FACE SO BAD THAT NO MAN WILL WANT ME NOW. I DON'T NEED JUICE HERE TO DRIVE THAT POINT HOME.
"Oh… Luv… That isn't why he's here."
I rolled my eyes at him as I wrote: WHATEVER. BUT LIKE YOU SAID… JUST LIKE LAST TIME I KILLED THE THREAT, SO IT'S NOT LIKE YOU NEED HIM HERE TO PROTECT YOU.
"Me? Nah, you're right, I canna take care of myself, so he isn't here to protect me. But you? Happy told me to bring someone to watch over you 'til your Dah could get here. He thought Juicy would do a good job."
FUCK OFF! I DON'T BELIEVE YOU! DAD WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO ME. HE KNOWS HOW I FEEL ABOUT… HIM.
Chibs took a couple of steps so that he was right at my side and placed a comforting hand on my head. When I didn't lash out or try to get away from him in any way, he stroked my hair and kissed the top of my forehead. He kept his hand on the left side of my head then quietly said into my right ear, "I'm sorry, but this is one time that I completely agree with your Dah. Someone broke into your house and it wasn't just to maim you, he would have killed ya. Maria, he… he's scarred you for life, so you can't fault your Dah for wanting someone to watch over you 'til he can be here."
I GET THAT, BUT…
"Juicy never stopped loving you. When he heard Happy's orders, he volunteered for this gig."
I glared at the man standing beside my hospital bed as I angrily wrote (and tore up the page with the pen while doing so): FUCK YOU! THAT'S NOT FAIR. I sincerely hope he was able to read it with my tears blurring the ink as they fell.
Chibs made a show of ripping the page out of the notebook and crumpling it up before throwing it away.
"Fair has nothing to do with it, Mia-Luv."
Thankfully, that's when an orderly entered the room to take me to see the plastic surgeon. I was seated in a wheel chair and finally taken to a suture room. Since the plastic surgeon was waiting there for me, he was able to get started on patching me up right away.
XXXXXX
It felt like it took forever for the doctor to finish poking at my face. Much like my attacker, he had injected a needle full of a numbing agent, so I didn't feel much while he worked. When he was done the local anesthetic had started to wear off and my face was throbbing even more. The surgeon held up a mirror for me so that I could see the one hundred and one tiny stitches that were running from my hair line to nearly the corner of my mouth under my jaw bone. When I heard the number, I laughed to myself because I could already hear the dalmatian and Disney jokes I was sure that I was going to hear from the guys at work and the MC.
"I know it looks like a lot of stitches, which it actually is. By using more… well double the number I usually would and smaller stitches, it should help to cut down on the depth of your scar so that you can hopefully cover it up with makeup more easily once the stitches are out. Normally we allow family doctors to remove stitches, but your… family made it very clear that they want me to ensure that your physical scarring to be as minimal as humanly possible, so I will have to insist you come back to my office to have them removed."
I moved my eyes from staring at my reflection to gape at the doctor before I sighed heavily. "Of course, they did. Doctor, I am SO sorry if they threatened you in any way. That is just… fuck… I don't even have the words to apologize."
He gave me a disarming smile then said, "Believe it or not, but I've had family members threaten much worse than what your Uncle and… friend said that they would do to me if you came out looking like your Uncle."
"Not," I replied with pure conviction.
He laughed like he didn't believe me, but completely abandoned that argument. "Moving on… Ms. Lowman, do you by chance remember the last time that you had a tetanus shot?"
I nodded with a sad smile. "Yeah… a little over a year ago…" I tapped the large scar that bisected my left eyebrow. "When I got this."
"Dare I ask about its origin?" He asked with a playful smirk and lighthearted tone.
I just shook my head and couldn't mask the sadness in my voice when I replied, "That guy didn't get a chance to use the knife he brought with him to hurt me."
The doctor's eyes widened at my grim response, but he didn't comment any further on that subject at all. Not that I blamed him. Here I sat with stitches in my face because some random guy decided to attack me… again. If I wasn't living it, I probably wouldn't believe anyone could have luck as shitty as mine either.
Instead of voicing his opinion on the subject, the doctor instead said, "An orderly will be by in a minute to take you to your room. Our Uncle has my card to call or you can drop by my office to book your follow up appointments."
"Alright. I'll be sure to do that… Thank you so much for everything you've done. I… I…"
He squeezed my arm then said, "You are more than welcome. Take care of yourself, Ms. Lowman."
XXXXXXXX
When I finally got back to my private room, it was completely full. Jax, Nero, Tig and Rat had arrived with Gemma. Since my dad was out of town doing some… work for the club, I didn't expect him to be here, but I would be lying if I said it didn't make me a little bit sad to know that he wouldn't be back any time soon. But in the next breath, I can't say I was surprised to see who from the MC had shown up to join my receiving party.
As soon as the orderly finished helping me onto the hospital bed, Gemma was at my side and gripped my chin so tightly I was afraid I'd have large bruises where her fingers dug into my flesh.
"Holy shit. Sweetheart, what the hell…? How are you feeling?"
"My whole face is throbbing and my head is sore from where he hit me with… umm… a bat… And... And I'm completely exhausted."
"Of course, you are. Oh Baby, did the doctor say when we'd be able to take you home?"
Rat stepped up with a bag sporting a familiar pharmacy logo on it in his hands as he explained, "I got your prescriptions filled… The doc said he'd be back with your discharge papers after the plastic surgeon was done with you, so he should be back soon."
We all just stared at him for a second causing him to slink back in his spot while mumbling something quietly to himself. I looked down at my torso and suddenly remembered why I was wearing a hospital gown. Gemma was still really close to my side, so I reached out and grabbed her arm to try to get her attention.
"When they told… uhh… called you… Did Eli or Cane happen to mention that I might need a little help with my wardrobe?" She just gave me a blank, questioning look, so I hastily added just above a whisper, "For some reason he cut my shirt off before he did… this. So, my shirt's now on my kitchen floor with the rest of the trash."
"Oh… Shit! Sweetheart…" Gemma started as she stroked my cheek gently with the back of her fingers. "No, no one mentioned that little tidbit to me at all. But, don't worry, I can…"
"Here. You can wear this," Juice offered as he passed me his black hoody that he had just unzipped and taken off.
I stared at it dumbly for a couple of breaths. It was so silly and stupid. I had spent a lot of time wearing his clothes whenever we had a sleepover at his house, but now that we weren't dating, it felt really odd to me that he would offer to let me borrow his clothes. I don't know why it seemed so strange to me because it really was a sweet gesture, especially since I'm sure he knew I wasn't too keen on the idea of walking out of the hospital in just a black satin and baby blue lace bra and my jeans.
As I finally formed the words in my mind to thank Juice for his generosity, the doctor walked into the room with my discharge papers in hand. He paused at the door and looked thoroughly shocked at how crowded my room had become during both of our absences, but he recovered himself quickly.
"Ms. Lowman, we have to stop meeting like this."
I tried to smile, but that was too uncomfortable with how it tugged on my stitches, so I just replied, "Trust me Doc, I feel the exact same way."
He gave me a sad smile and then gripped my chin gently to inspect my latest battle wound. "This is looking good. And it should scar a lot less than the cut I stitched up for you in your eyebrow. Your friend, Mister… err… Rat has all of your medications. Before you ask, you'll find the standard antibiotics and two different pain killers. I thought that you might need something stronger than Tylenol 3 from time to time. And finally… I also wrote a prescription for a sleeping pill, since last time that was a bit of an issue for you, I thought it would save you at least one trip back here."
"Wow, thank you. I… I don't know what to say," I nearly whispered as tears crept into my tone. "I can't believe you re-remembered that."
He gripped my forearm tightly and quietly said, "A woman as remarkable as you is very hard to forget."
I smiled as much as my left cheek would allow then asked, "Would it be okay if I had some of the pain meds now?"
"Absolutely, you may. Now, bear in mind that they might make you drowsy." He then made a bit of a show of looking around the room before he smirked and added, "But I'm sure that I don't have to worry about you being left to fend for yourself at all."
Gemma stepped to my free side and wrapped an arm around me saying, "You're right doctor, she most definitely will not be left alone. She has her whole family to help care of her."