Page 46 of Hate You Most

“I'm afraid that's out of the question just yet.”

A lump of spit traveled up Viktoriya's throat, and she forced herself to swallow it.

“What do you mean ‘out of the question’?” she asked, her voice tight as she tried to stay calm. “I only have a little headache, it's normal. It's⁠—”

“Ms. Volkova,” the doctor cut her off and finally shifted his eyes over to look at her. “You have a severe closed head injury after the car crash you've been in. You have complications of said head injury, which includes complete retrograde amnesia spanning an eight-year period as well as loss of consciousness. You're still considered to be in critical condition, so we can't in good conscience discharge you or move you to a different floor just yet.”

It wasn't that bad. She just had a headache, that was all. She could go home. She was more than perfectly able to go home.

“We'll continue to monitor you closely, Ms. Volkova. You're still at high risk of developing a subdural hematoma, in which case you'd need surgery. We also need to rule out any post-traumatic seizures and your headache also needs to subside before we can get you discharged.”

Viktoriya looked straight at the doctor. “When can I go home?”

“You still need intensive care. We'll continue to monitor your condition closely for any new developments.”

“When?”

The doctor looked at Viktoriya over his round glasses. “Once your condition has stabilized some more, then we'll talk about getting you transferred to another wing of the hospital. You'll most likely spend a couple of days there before you'll be discharged.”

“A couple of days?” Viktoriya's voice cracked. “I can't be here for a couple more days. I have practice tomorrow, I can't miss it. I'm training for the Olympics, I can't miss training!”

A heavy silence fell over the cold hospital room. Viktoriya sensed she'd made a mistake somewhere, but she wasn't sure where she'd gone wrong.

“You're not training for the Olympics anymore. Remember? You've been in a car crash and you’ve hit your head.”

Right, of course. Viktoriya closed her eyes for a second and tried unsuccessfully to drown out the throbbing sensation at the back of her skull.

The doctor made a note on the tablet and mumbled something about her being disoriented and confused about where she was, but Viktoriya didn't feel confused or disoriented. She felt perfectly fine, if it wasn't for the headache at the back of her skull.

“No, no, I need to go home. I need to skate. I need to train!”

“Ms. Volkova,” the doctor said as his voice became softer. “You can't go home right now, you have to stay here, so we can continue to monitor you. Also, you haven't trained for the Olympics in eight years. You're not competing and you're not in Moscow. You're currently in Detroit, Michigan.”

The argument in her head crumbled into dust and left her only with an intense sense of humiliation.

She turned to look at Dakota and foolishly expected her to curse out the doctor for the mistake he was making by keeping her here. It was all just a mistake and a misunderstanding, she was perfectly fine. Why couldn't anybody see that? Dakota didn't do anything, she just sat there.

If she thought about it, she knew where she was and what the doctors had told her, but it was far away and muddled. She had to consciously remind herself, and right now that took too much of her energy. Perhaps the doctor was right, and she did need to stay in the intensive care unit. Her head was ripping in half, and she couldn't even remember that she wasn't in Moscow anymore.

“What are the risks if we refuse inpatient care and have her moved?” Dakota asked.

Viktoriya fixed her gaze on Dakota.

“The risks are serious,” the doctor said. “After a head injury this severe, she needs constant monitoring. Moving her too soon could make her condition worse very quickly.” He glanced down at the tablet before continuing. “She's already experienced memory loss and a prolonged loss of consciousness. Right now we're watching for complications like seizures, bleeding, changes in brain activity, or a sudden neurological decline. If she leaves inpatient care too early, there’s a real possibility she could lose consciousness again, become disoriented or unstable, or suffer permanent damage.” His expression hardened slightly. “She was in a coma for four days. Recovery from that does not happen overnight.”

The doctor didn't try to soften his words. “Ms. Volkova, I understand you don't want to stay here, and Ms. Sanchez I understand that this is frustrating, but Viktoriya requires complete sensory rest and twenty-four-hour monitoring. That is impossible for us to provide in another wing of the hospital, or at home.”

“Right,” Dakota half whispered. “Of course, I just wanted to know the options. We’ll stay here if that's what's best.”

“What, no. I have to go home!” Viktoriya raised her voice and clenched the sheets until her knuckles turned white. This was insane, she needed to go home so she could train. She could not fall further behind.

“See what I'm talking about, Ms. Sanchez? Her condition would only deteriorate if we moved her now.” The doctor exclaimed.

“No. No, I have to train! You can't keep me here, I don't consent!” Viktoriya's voice was sharp and she couldn't breathe properly anymore. Whatever medication they were giving her clearly wasn't enough. The pain kept coming in relentless waves behind her eyes, each pulse sharper than the last. She pressed her fingers to her temple, jaw tightening as the room seemed to throb in time with her heartbeat.

“You can certainly talk, I'll give you that,” the doctor said. “I’m afraid that, given recent brain injury, I don’t believe you’re able to make your own medical decisions right now.”

Viktoriya took a deep breath in, she needed to calm down or her brain was going to actually kill her. “That is bullshit, I am fine. I need to go home, you have to let me go home.”