AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How about some tea?” Lauren politely suggests, prompting my lids to lift, revealing my tear-ridden gaze. “Maybe some hibiscus? Get your electrolytes back up?” She lifts the laundry basket upward at the same time she teases, “Don’t worry. I’ll hold the poison.”
The playful remark regarding what had her in this bed over a year ago has me trying to smile. “I appreciate that.”
She lovingly winks, turns, and exits, leaving me alone once more to brush away the spit from my lips.
Wipe down my face with the cool rag.
My neck.
Press the cloth firmly against my eyes in hopes of relieving the throbbing that seems incapable of ending.
Having to work through this shit episode the first time was miserable.
Why did I think a sequel wouldn’t be worse?
“You look like that scene in The Dark Knight Rises where Bruce is recovering in the pit,” my best friend unexpectedly states causing me to lower the towel to lock stares. “Post Bane breaking his back and taunting him but pre that old dude beating him like a piñata and using his ancient chiropractic degree.”
I grunt in agreement. “Feel like it too.”
He winces and adjusts the sky-blue collar to his dress shirt. “Progress?”
“I’m no longer vomiting every other hour.”
“Sweats?”
“Still soaking the bed.”
“Sleep?”
“Nightmares.”
“Mood?”
“Dour.”
“But less hostile?”
“Yeah.” Tossing the rag back into the bowl it’s being kept in precedes bracing my back against the pillows. “I’m past the need for a sedative to prevent me from irrationally screaming at everyone.”
A half-hearted grin is given. “And that my injured cape-crusader is my least favorite phase of this shit.”
“At least I didn’t throw anything this time.”
“Only because you were handcuffed.”
“And who am I to thank for sparing me their hot pink fuzzy handcuffs?”
“That would be the future Mrs. Wilcox.”
It’s impossible to keep hope out of my expression.
“They were a bridal brunch gift from Vanessa. Along with cupcake flavored lube and a fox mask I was afraid to ask questions about.”
Despite the desire to dive deeper into those details, I soar around them to investigate something much more pressing. “When was that?”
“Couple days after she asked her to be a bridesmaid.”
When did that happen?
