The Hurt Game

❧ forty-eight

White, grey walls. Stone and cold floors. Every footstep echoed down the hall and into the waiting room. There was this smell of hygiene only hospitals could have. An eerie silence had gathered around me while I waited all alone. No one had shown up yet.

My gaze was fixed on the wall in front of me. My fingers were fiddling with each other as I picked at my nails, ripping them slightly. They had grown during the months. My leg bounced up and down. My throat was dry and thick with worry.

"Excuse me, darling, do you need anything?" An unfamiliar voice came from beside and disrupted my staring ahead and worrying. I blinked a couple of times while turning my head to face the woman sitting a couple chairs down.

She wore a small smile. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and wrinkles had appeared on her face. Her hair was thinning, but no grey hair was to be seen. She stood up and sat down beside me, holding a water bottle in her hand.

"Take a sip. It might make you feel better," she said while handing me the bottle.

I accepted it from her, unscrewed the bottle and took a tiny sip. It did soothe my throat, but it was still difficult to swallow.

"Thank you," I replied as I handed the bottle back.

"You're welcome. People ought to help each other out in difficult times."

I showed her a small smile of gratitude. She patted my hand once and opened her mouth once more. "Whoever it is who needs medical help, the doctors know what they are doing here."

"I hope so." I nodded my head, showed her another smile before turning my head to the opening door. A doctor walked out, but he addressed the woman next to me. I watched them walk through the door. I was all alone.

A soft sigh escaped my lips and I stared ahead of me again. It had been way too long since someone updated me on the situation. The nurse, who had taken care of me, checking everything to be sure, told me to wait here. So I did, but I had hoped to hear something about Royden's state.

What if he didn't make it? What if he died? What if he was already long gone and I would be waiting and waiting, and waiting for him to never come back. What if—

"Excuse me, are you related to Mr. Connery?" Another voice broke the silence around me.

Startled I looked up into the face of a doctor. My heart was hammering in my chest like a sledgehammer. I wiped my clammy hands on my jeans while I swallowed and stood.

"Yes, I am. I am his girlfriend. We live together," I answered hastily. I needed to hear he was fine.

"I am Dr Newman," he introduced himself with a little smile. "I am his surgeon, and I like to inform you the operation was successful. He is well and resting, about to wake up as we speak."

Relief crashed over me. All tension left my body as I let out a long breath. Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them away, not wanting to seem too emotional in front of the doctor. I managed to smile at him.

"So he will be okay?" I asked, not believing it, needing to hear it one more time.

"He will be perfectly alright, Miss. Yet he has a recovery ahead of him despite little damages. He needs to take it seriously, for it might cause troubles in his recovery. It might take longer for example."

"I understand. I'm so glad he is okay."

"I can imagine. You said you live together?" He gestured me to follow him through the halls as we spoke. I hummed in affirmation to his question and he continued speaking. "Your job, in his recovery, is to make sure he rests and don't walk too much. His side was damaged and it will be completely fine, but it will take longer when he pressures himself by walking. It is preferable to walk as least as possible for three weeks. The longer, the better."