Page 112 of Get to You
Her brows furrow as she struggles to open them, "Not your fault." She shakes her head. Her head snuggles into the pillow, close to sleep she murmurs, “He is a monster, how my mother or I didn't see it before…” the thought hangs there, without finishing. I think she has gone to sleep, but her good arm cups my cheek. “He’s the only one responsible,” she whispers, eyes closed as she drifts.
I can't let go of my guilt, especially as she struggled against sleep to reassure me, completely exhausted. I should be doing that.
She falls asleep with her hand clutching my shirt.
The doctor enters around five the next morning. I'm cuddled up next to her in the bed. One of the nurses came in last night to help arrange us more comfortably, after failing to get her hand to release from my shirt. Her head is resting on my chest and our feet are intertwined with her casted arm lying across my stomach.
She doesn't even twitch when the door shuts. I wake easily after spending nearly the entire night watching her. My eyes move to track the man easing into the chair next to the bed.
He gives me a small smile and speaks softly, "I hear our patient woke up last night and is doing remarkably well."
I clear my throat, "Yes, she woke up around ten, I think."
Sammy stirs from my voice. She nods her head a bit, readjusting and sighs. My hand runs over her hair. I remember I need to wash it. There isn't anything I can do about the physical remainders on her flesh, but at least I can make sure her hair will be clean of reminders.
"I think we can let her sleep a little longer, but I want to have a look at her before the morning ends." He nods kindly at her curled up on my chest.
"Alright," I answer, knowing he's right to want to check her out.
As soon as the door closes, she cranes her head back to look up at me.
"I didn't feel like getting poked," she says, her voice still weak. I know they are giving us liberties because they've heard about her circumstance.
“Fine by me, but I need to get up if that's okay." She groans, making me wish bodily functions were nonexistent. "I have to pee, sweets. I don't think your nurse will be happy if I wet the bed," I tease to lighten the mood.
I kiss the top of her head and untangle myself from her, heading to the bathroom to clean up and use the facilities.
I make a call to my mom, knowing she is probably one step away from bursting in, especially after Brian informed me that she was on her way with dad. I tell her to give me a few hours before she shows up.
“I can help,” she interrupts.
“She doesn't need to be overwhelmed, she just woke up.” I lie easily. I need time to break it to Sammy that my mom has already taken on the role of mother hen and that she has her eyes set on Sam for her baby chick.
I hang up with my mom and fill a large pinkish tub up with warm water and soap. She watches me walk out holding the bucket and a few towels over my arm.
"What are you doing?"
"I was just going to rinse your hair." She grabs ahold of the hair over her shoulder and pulls it forward to inspect it.
"I'm all gross, huh?" she muses.
"No, there's nothing gross about you!" I say a little harshly. "I just don't like seeing what was done to your hair. If you want to wait until you're ready to shower, that's fine. I just wanted to help," I finish, trying to keep my voice even.
"No please, you're right. I don't mind if you help me." She looks up at me, “If you don’t mind?”
"I wouldn't have offered, if I didn't want to."
