Deafening (Lesbian story)

Rehabilitation

Light blinded my eyes when I stiffly woke next. A nurse had opened the blinds revealing the lush greenery that contrasted with the constant air of pessimism which the hospital seemed to love. I groaned, in a almost teenage like way, as I put my arm across my eyes.
"Go awayyy"
The nurse chuckled lightly, at the same time that a stiff doctor strolled in. I observed the Doctor, who looked as if he had news to broadcast to me and waited for him to begin.

"What have you got for me today doc?"
His eyes cut to my "legs" quickly as they often did when he became nervous. I grit teeth in annoyance waiting for his answer. He strolled to the end of my bed as he compiled one.
" Well Miss Marshall, we have received word that you are to be sent to a rehabilitation centre once your stay here is done. There you will not only be fit with a pair of prosthetics but similarly you will go through through physical therapy for three months. Not only that, you will also receive treatment for your ongoing struggle with alcoholism."

Damn. His voice sounded robotic, as he recited what was clearly told to him. My annoyance grew as he went on, and peaked by the time he mentioned my alchoholism. So it was of no suprise that my voice came out tense, when I spoke.

"Excuse me? One; I don't need any treatment, for anything. I have been working on my own for a long time and can still do so. Two; I cannot afford a three month stay in a rehab centre, however rich I may be. Now doc, you can leave"

I was out of breath by the end of this rant, as it had been the most I'd talked in a while, so I was content with what I had said. However, this clearly did not satisfy the doctor, who carried on.

" I'm afraid you will be going to this rehabilitation centre, Miss Marshall. It has already been paid for."
Confusion struck me. "By who?"
He looked down at the clipboard that seemed to be an extension of his arm.
" A Mr Charles Marshall"

I rolled my eyes, a common reaction for when I heard the name of my estranged father, who in no uncertain terms decided Kids were not his forte. The thought of wasting his money, however, is what I found more and more appealing as I looked at the white ceiling.
"Ergh, fine. When am I going?"
"Considering you have been here two weeks, a maximum stay, You are set to go tomorrow. A taxi is set to take you, and your dressing will be changed at the applewood centre untill it has healed."
It was after a few set of questions that he wisely chose to leave and naturally, I was relieved. The nurse had been waiting alongside my bed for him to leave too, so that she could change the dressing on my stumps. I took in a shaky breath at the thought of this task, a constant source of distress that had me itching for a glass.
I glanced down at my thighs, as she slowly undid the bandages. My eyes filled with tears as I thought of how pathetic I was. Choking back a sob, the nurse gained a sympathetic expression as she reapplied new bandages to cover up the stitches. I swallowed the lump in my throat, as it became more and more apparent to me how scared I am for rehab.

The nurse stood, still with the same expression that made me sick. She placed her hand on top of mine and smiled, before she wisely chose to depart. My own hands moved to my thighs, as they itched to touch what was no longer their. Said hands balled into fists as I realised my eyes had filled with tears again.

"Stop fucking crying, you low life," i muttered to myself.