AN: Sorry, this is unedited.
Callie POV
The bottle of pain medication on the nightstand is the first thing I reach for, when I wake up. I popped the bottle open and poured a couple of the pills out in my palm. There were 4 pills in my hand and for a moment, I thought about taking two, even three maybe. One no longer seemed enough. Taking one would take my pain level down significantly, taking more, would make me feel...better.
Knowing I should not use more than the doctor prescribed, I picked up the three pills, put them back in the bottle and put the cap back on. Out of sight, out of mind.
"This is my life now," I muttered to myself as I took the last pill and tossed it in my mouth.
I reached for the glass next, but stopped, when I noticed that I had drank all of the water during the night, when I had woken up the few times. Gathering up as much saliva as I could and swinging my head back, I tried to get the pill down. My mouth was dry. I could feel how the pill was traveling down my throat. There was a tight feeling in my throat, so I swallowed a couple of more times, hoping that will get the pill to get to the end destination faster and get unstuck from my throat.
After setting the bottle back on the nightstand, I laid my head back down on the pillow and stared up to the ceiling as I waited for the pain blockers to start working. It takes a minute. Until then I just had to suffer through the pain.
Looking up at the white ceiling, made my mind flashback to the moment in park. When I was laid on the ground, helpless and powerless, while mom was looking down at me.
The Sun, that she was blocking with her body, gave the effect that her body, her silhouette was emitting out light. She looked angel like. In a way, it was calming sight. Along with the complete silence – nothingness – it made the whole situation even more tranquil and peaceful.
I came to a realization, then and there - I would be okay of dying in moms arms.
At least, I knew I would not be alone. There was never any doubt about that. She will look into my eyes and hold my hand till my last moment and even, when I'm gone. Mom would be the last thin that I see. The idea of dying in her arms, was much more calming, than dying en route or in hospital on an operating table or emergency room. Surrounded by doctors or nurses, exposed, scared and alone, despite the fact that I would have been surrounded by people.
Even though I did not heard nor understood a single word that she said to me, my mind filled up the blank spaces. I could hear her voice perfectly. I know her - the way she think, the way she speaks, the way she acts in certain situation. So my brain, had no problem adding the missing pieces and information.
In my mind, mom was cool and collected, there was no hint of panic in her voice, no doubt in her tone. Her voice did not shook or tremble. Words flew out of her mouth smoothly and they were as clear as the sky today. Mom's voice was soft, like it always is in moments like this, when I am hurting or struggling or distress. She convinced me, that we -I- would get through this and there was no reason for me to be worried or scared.
No matter the outcome, she would not leave my side and it will be okay. I had no trouble believing her.
Mom managed to make me not fear death, while I was staring down at it.
I could not ask for a more fitting end. My life didn't really start until I met Amy and it could come to an end any moment, with Amy right there, next to me. A full circle.
My eyes snap open, when I felt a kiss on my forehead. Sucking in a mouthful of air, I glanced around to take in my surroundings. I must have dozed off at some point, while waiting for the pain medication to kick in.
"Morning, sunshine," Harold smiled down at me
"Huh...what time is it?" I looked around, searching for a clock, despite the fact that there were none in my room
"It's breakfast time," Harold said and like on cue, my stomach growled. He grinned, before taking a step back when I was starting to get up "Let me know, if you need any help."
"Aha," I yawned and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes
Getting up and out of the bed was no longer an issue. Slow and steady was the way to go, to avoid pain in my ribs and leg. Once I was up, I made my bed, because I needed to keep my normal routine going. Though, at the moment, making my bed simply meant try to straighten the cover and not leave it in one big pile at the end of the bed. Mom or grandma always made it more neatly sometime during the day. Each night I had a fluffed up pillow. The sheet was tucked neatly around the mattress. Cover was spread out with barely any wrinkle. And a glass of water stood on the nightstand, when I went to bed every night.
After that, it was bathroom time. It was refreshing and freeing not needing anyone's help with taking care of the most basic human needs.
Usually, these 3 morning actions would take me less then 5 minutes. Now, they took me more than 10. But at least I could do all of them on my own, without anyone's help. That was progress enough.
When I got to the stairs, I looked over my shoulder to my grandfather.
"Help?" I asked still somewhat warily. Nothing had really changed on that part – I still hated asking people for help and being depended on others. I was, however, smart enough to know that I still needed other people's help.
The first day, when I got back home and tried to walk down the stairs, my feet had slipped and my injured leg gave out underneath me. While I had been holding on to the banister, there had been no way I could have held myself up at that point. If it hadn't been for mom, who had been helping me walk down the stairs, I would have fallen down and quite possibly broken my goddamn neck or just taken myself back to for another hospital stay. That had been a real eye opening moment for me. Yeah, I was home, but I was still in recovery. I may not like it, but I needed help. Now more than ever.
"Sure," He stepped up without any hesitation and supported me down the stairs
Once both of my feet touched the first floor ground, Harold let go and allowed me to make the way to kitchen on my own. My right hand fingers dragged along the wall as I limped along the hallway.
"It smells nice," I said to Harold, who was walking next to me in my pace
"Your mom is making your favorite breakfast meal," he said before we entered the kitchen
"Morning," Linda and Amy both greeted me
Mom stepped away from the counter. Still holding the spatula in her hand, she walked over to me and placed a kiss on my forehead.
"How did you sleep?" she placed her free hand on my shoulder and gently ran it down to my hand, giving my palm a soft squeeze at the end
"Fine," I said, sitting down at the table. Taking a look around the set table, I counted only 4 sets of plates. Cooper must be at work already. Looking out the kitchen window, I saw how Duke was standing in the middle of the yard, eating his bone.
Harold and Linda took a seat opposite me. Mom carried a big plate of food and set it down in the middle of the table, before taking a seat next to me.
"What is it, honey?" mom asked, noticing my hesitation
"Um, nothing, I just...I can't recall-" I pointed the fork to the big plate of food. It looked and smelled delicious.
"What do you remember?" Mom stabbed her fork at the top of the pile and dragged two over to my plate. Harold took three, Linda started with one, mom took two as well.
"I know I have made this for you. We used to eat it on Sunday's, when it was just the two of us. It was our weekend food. I know, Arron taught me how to make them. Eggs, milk, flour, little bit of salt, sugar, baking powder, butter..."
"Anything else?" Mom sounded way too intrigued. There was more to it than her usual questions to get me to think about the object/item/food in this case to recall it's name.
I glanced to mom with a smirk on my lip "Secret ingredient that I can never tell you."
Mom sighted deeply and pouted, making Linda and Harold laugh out.
"I remember the day, Aaron taught me how to make it, like it was yesterday. Step by step. He just stood by, allowed me to do all of it. But I can't..." I pointed the fork to the food "I can't fucking remember what it is called."
"How about a letter?"
"It feels like...at the end of alphabet?" I asked, glancing to mom to make sure I got at least that bit correct
"Mhm...How about a guess?" Linda asked, before pouring syrup all over the food. Harold was already chewing it, mouth full.
The recipe of making the breakfast food played in my mind over and over again, along with Aaron's instructions. I remember moms genuine surprise and happiness, when I made the breakfast for her the first time. There were countless of mornings mom and I sat at this same table, eating and laughing and discussing our days plans.
I scrunched up my face and closed my eyes as I forced myself to think harder. Tapping my pulled up fist to my forehead, I tried to gently knock some memory into my head.
Nothing but blank. Not even a single guess, what it could be.
Out of frustration with myself, when the word simply did not come to me, I wanted to slam my fist down at the table or grab the cup that was in front of me and throw it across the room. The urge to do it was strong, but somehow, I managed to control my anger and not lash out. It would have upset everyone in the room. Ruin the nice atmosphere. I didn't want to be responsible for that as well, so I just sucked it up.
"I got nothing," I said, giving up
"Waffles," mom told me
"Waffles!" I called out "I should have known that. That's..ugh-" I looked down to the waffles on my plate "How did I not know that?"
Mom called me out instantly "Hey!" she rubbed soothing circles on my back "It's okay, you remembered a lot. You did good. I'm proud of you."
"I feel dumb...I am dumb-"
"Now, listen to me, young lady-" Harold said in a loud and stern voice, while pointing his fork at me. It was kind of intimidating as I had never heard him speak in such tone before. I closed my mouth and swallowed back a lump in my throat.
"No one calls my granddaughter dumb! Not even herself. You got it?" He waited till I nodded my head back, then continued "You are not dumb, you have a TBI. That brain of yours-" he reached over the table, put his index finger to the middle of my forehead and pushed my head back softly "-needs time to heal. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir!" The sir part, just added itself. It felt like I needed to say it, after how he had spoken to me.
Mom looked a bit dumbstruck. Her body was stiff, but her hand was still rested on my back. She had just stopped running the soothing circled over my back. Mouth slightly parted, her eyes big, but gaze focused on the table, yet looked like she was being haunted by a memory "I'm having flashbacks to my childhood-" she muttered quietly. Linda and Harold shared a knowing look and a smirk, but said nothing.
I believe I just got a taste of what it was like to grow up as Amy.
"Good, now start eating please, before the food gets cold!"
We resumed breakfast. The topic changed to a more casual one, that in no way included me, which I was so thankful for.
Some 30 minutes after breakfast, I was sitting on the exercise mat in the middle of the back yard. Waiting for mom to give me instructions as to what I need to do.
Mom was kneeled down by my feet, phone in her hand "Cooper made you a new workout," she said wiggling her phone at me.
"Cool," I said rather indifferent, just wanting to get this part of day over with. Mom was tapping and scrolling through her phone to find the workout instructions left by Cooper. Sometimes it was just a word file, other times it was a link to some instructional YouTube or other sites, other times it was series of images, often it was all of that.
Working out was now a huge part of my daily routine. Because that's what it takes to get me back to get me back on my feet.
I had a special routine of exercises for me to do at home, which I usually did in the morning. It takes me about 2 hours to do it all. It's all done with very little equipment. There are a lot of stretches, sometimes very super light weights, stretching strap or a ball is involved. We had most of the stuff from, when mom had been shot. So, Cooper didn't even need to borrow the stuff from his work. We were covered. Doing the tasks correctly is the key element. Each workout needed to be done certain about of reps and sets. While the workout doesn't seem that hard, I'm drained afterwards. There are times, when I'm doing the exercise and I literally forget to breath. Either mom or Cooper need to remind me to breath, because I'm turning blue as I try to do the last reps of the set.
At the evenings, I have another round of physical therapy with Cooper at his work place. It involves more equipment, massages, more diverse rage of exercises. It is way more intense as Cooper is watching over my every move, every breath even more closer than mom is. He pushes me the way my mom never could.
Mom sometimes goes easy on me. When I whine too much, I can get free pass sometimes. She has a soft spot for me. I can whine and cry all I want, but Cooper does not budge. Not an inch. He will always get 110% out of me. I can't tell if that's because I am his customer or because I am his family. Back when I first met him, he didn't seem so stern.
Mom looked up to me "Oh, almost forgot. Did you take your medicine this morning?"
"No," I said with a straight face, while looking at mom
"I will go fetch the medication first and then we can start the workout," Amy said before heading back inside the house
I laid back on the mat and stared up the clear blue sky. Covering my eyes with my palm, I sighed out "Why did I do that?"
I hated myself for lying to mom. But I couldn't help it. The lie had come so easily as my body craved for more of the stuff. It wasn't like I was still in pain. I just...wanted more.
The strength I had this morning, in not taking extra pain medication, was gone. It was like a little devil was sitting on my shoulder, constantly whispering to my ear that I need to take more. And I finally gave in. It was so much easier, took much less effort not to fight the urge.
"I'm fine!" I tried to convince myself that I do not have a problem