Half a man

3- Nine

Tom woke up on a 9.

During his time at the hospital, doctors would always ask him to estimate his pain on a 1 to 10 scale. They never really told me how he was supposed to do that and he still lack of words to describe it. Through the 5 months he spent at the hospital, his scale changed a lot until it became how it is now.

1 to 3 was for small pain. Those who didn't hurt so much, just bothered him. A slight hangover would be a 3 for instance. From 4 to 6, it started to be the kind a pain you'd take a painkiller for but they were still easily to fairly manageable. 6 was his baseline nowadays...7s and more were classified as unbearable. Tom considered 10s to be the ones that made him pass out. On a 9, he wanted to reap off what was left of his arm.

This morning was really not a good morning. That's why when he heard the door of his flat opening and Lizzie's voice calling for him, he knew this could only end badly...

-- Tom, I'm coming in if you don't come out, she said from the other side of his bedroom door after she banged on it.

He grunted but didn't move.

-- Tom, we're going to be late, she added pissed off.

Since he didn't answered, she came in. She swiped the duvet off of him and the sudden movement made him shout in pain.

-- Get the fuck out, he yelled.

He curled on himself and closed his eyes. His head was throbbing and it felt like his blood was boiling in his shoulder.

-- Will you stop acting like a kid! Come on, get up!

-- Fuck off, he snarled.

She took his elbow and tried to pull him up. He saw red and jumped at her. He shoved her against the closet behind her with his valid arm.

-- I told you to leave me the fuck alone, he shouted at her face.

But standing up so quickly had made the pain go worse. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes shut for a few seconds. He grabbed her wrist to drag her outside but he was so infuriated and driven mad by pain he couldn't see clearly.

He hurt his knee on the corner of the bed but barely felt it. It made him lose his balance and he crashed on the wall, on his left side. The choc sent a jolt to his spin but it felt weirdly satisfying. At least this pain was from a real hit. He did it again, using strength he didn't knew he had left to hit the wall with his left shoulder.

He was screaming, but he wasn't sure if it was in his head or out loud. His ears were ringing, his body trembling. Then he felt a tug at his right arm...

-- Please! Tom, stop it!

It seemed like it was said from the street below but something was still yanking at his hand. Through the clouds of his wacked up brain, he remembered. Lizzie.

She was staring at him with wide panicked eyes, and Tom felt like his head was going to explode from the tears he was holding. He dropped to the floor on his knees, his hand still clasped on her wrist. His mind went blank. His eyes filled up with tears. He rested his forehead on her belly and started crying in silence. The pain was too much. He just wanted to stop hurting. He just wanted to stop feeling anything...

She freed her arm and stepped away. She was leaving him, like the worthless piece of shit he was.

Or so he thought. But she sat on the floor, against the bed and forced him to lay next to her. She rested his head on her chest and wrapped his body with her left arm.

Tom was too drunken by the pain to try and understand what was happening. He just leaned in the embrace, curling against her left side. His stump was exposed and her arm was pressing on it as she hugged him tighter. The contact was both burning and soothing.