Page 32 of Make Us Yours
I can’t explain the tightness that forms in my chest as I look at the slender body balled up over my cover. She looks so small right now, and I hate it. I hate that I left her like this when I knew she wasn’t okay.
Gabe and I rush to her side and drop to the ground beside her. “Kitten, tell me what’s wrong? What happened?”
Her complexion is paler than it was this morning, and she has a line of sweat along her forehead. Her eyes are screwed shut like she’s in pain, and tears track down herface. From the large wet stain beneath her head, I’d say she’s been crying for a little while now.Shit.
“It hurts…” she finally cries out.
“Baby, what hurts?” Gabe places his hand on her calf.
She sniffs. “My stomach and my back.”
I push hair out of her face gently, placing it behind her ear. “What did you do for it to hurt?”
She shakes her head. “It’s… it’s my period. It happens every time.” She scrunches up her face and brings her legs up closer to her body as she whimpers.
“You go through this every month?!” Gabe asks with wide eyes. I’ve seen the other girls in a bit of pain during their time of the month, or being cranky and moody, but I’ve never seen them like this.That can’t be normal.
“Do you want us to take you to the hospital?” I ask her softly, continuing to play through her hair.
“No. They don’t do anything. It’s normal.” She shakes her head again.
“There’s nothing normal about going through this pain every month, Veronica. I may not be a woman or know exactly what you’re going through, but I know this isn’t normal, and you need to see a doctor.”
She cries out again, turning her face into the bed. The sounds falling from her lips rip my heart open. I want to help her, I’m just not sure what to do. I think of what our team physician tells us to do to help with pain. It always involves putting a bit of pressure on the muscles and massaging.Maybe that could work?She said it was her back and stomach.
Without wasting another second, I rise to my knees and place one hand on her lower back, wiggling my other against her lower abdomen. Slowly, I apply pressure and gently massage as best as I can with my fingers. At first, she’s a little stiff and seems to recoil, but then her body relaxes and I hear her release slow, deep breaths.
“How does that feel?”
“Good.” She sniffles again, turning her face back to us. “I’ve already seen a doctor, and it doesn’t happen every month. I got the implant to help, and it does. But every three or so months it pops up, and it’s horrible. She’s run every test possible, and they can’t find any reason for why it’s so bad.”
“How do you usually manage the pain?” Gabe asks, his hand rubbing up and down her calf.
“I have a prescription I take that makes them milder. But I ran out and couldn’t cover the cost since I don’t have any medical insurance.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Veronica. You should have said something. We would havecovered them for you. Why didn’t you tell me this morning you were in this much pain?” I’m angry, but not at her. I’m angry with myself that I didn’t notice how bad it was.
“It had calmed down this morning. I thought I was going to be okay.” She whimpers as I press a more sensitive spot in her abdomen.
I sigh. “Gabe, can you run her a bath? Then I want you to go get her prescription and anything you think that could help with the pain.”
“On it.” He stands quickly and rushes into my bathroom to start the water. He then comes back and exits the room, returning a minute later with a handful of products.
“What’s all that?” I ask.
“Epsom salt, bubble bath, oils, candles. It’s all to help relax her body,” he says, pointing out everything.
“Good call.” I nod.
“You guys don’t need to…” Her arms tighten around her stomach, squeezing me in. “Ahhh!” she cries, folding herself in. “Do that…” she finishes in a tiny, broken voice as tears continue to pour out of her.
“Yes, we do. There’s no way we’re leaving you like this, Vixen,” Gabe says from the doorway of the ensuite, arms folded over his chest as he watches her. “You’re our girl,” he finishes with a soft smile.
She offers him a small one despite her tormented state, then whimpers again, and I suddenly fear I might be making it worse. “Do you want me to stop?” I begin to remove my hands, but she grabs onto the one that was against her stomach, forcing it to stay in place.
“No, please don’t stop. It’s helping,” she begs.
“Okay.” I place it back correctly and resume my movements. It would be easier if she were fully stretched out, but this seems to be the easiest position for her right now.
