Her hopes were up and predictably, they were squashed, along with countless other dreams she had insisted on thinking. Her ankle was shattered. The pain was searing. Television proved to be a helpful distraction while the painkillers numbed most of her issue. Her leg hung open off to the side of her bed, propped up on pillows to raise it above her heart, as instructed. She had crutches next to her but the thought of breathing was enough to send shoots of acid up her legs. She would be alone for several more hours and most of her friends were at work or busy. Her mind couldn't help but wander to the night before. It seemed like a different time. When she was a different person. She had woken up the day before feeling full and free. Her whole day was in anticipation of reaching her home after work, dressing to go out, and the drinks she would consume with co-workers. Her outfit was provocative, she was interested in drawing attention to herself. One of the new interns was notably cute and she tried everything she could to get him alone. By midnight, he hadn't shown up and she had chugged down several bourbons, hoping for a miracle. Borderline on making a fool of herself, she hit the dance floor for the remainder of the night. Her movements were fluid with the music, despite her intoxication. She swayed with strangers, her friends, and by herself. The lights came on and she looked around the room, sweating with make-up smeared down her cheek. She didn't recognize anyone immediately so she took her last swig and headed directly for the first door she saw. Determined to get home without harassment, she began walking, feeling the effects of alcohol and excessive dancing. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk in a staggering beat. One heel caught in between two slabs and she mistakenly continued walking, falling to her wrists, twisting her right foot in a very uncomfortable position. She knew she was in trouble when she began to feel the pain, through the shadow of her state. She managed to prop herself up and free her heel, watching her ankle swell and purple. Drunkenly, she managed to call a cab and waited for an eternity making pained cries periodically. The cab driver saw her on the sidewalk and considered driving off but at last second decidedly got out of the front seat and scooped her up and into his car. He had seen the defeat on her smeared face and the deformed foot that laid on her lap, twisted uncomfortably. He drove her to the hospital while listening to her sputter her thoughts out randomly. She was incomprehensible to him, although to one of her friends, she would have made perfect sense. Her pain came in waves and she had forgotten of her journey to the hospital in fragments. When the cab pulled up to the hospital, a nurse was waiting with a wheelchair. She thanked the cab driver profusely for his thoughtfulness between stutters and slurs. He waved her off and drove away while her nurse pushed her over the bumps of thresholds that separated the outside to the emergency wing. Her pain was made more apparent by the emptiness of the wing, save for a visitor awaiting someone else. No one was coming to meet her and she grew lonely, hard and fast. She tried phoning her mother but there was no answer. It was the middle of the night and no hopes of her being awake but that didn't stop her from needing her, then.
Her phone rang an hour later, her best friend, hoping she was okay and promising to stop by before work the next day. She had something to look forward to, at least. She was forced on bed rest for the remainder of the following three weeks. After which time, she would have a check-up and a doctor would determine if she was fit to go back to her office job. She hung up the phone and sighed at her own boredom. She surfed her accounts on her phone, proving the tv was not enough of a distraction from her melancholy. It was tough for her to keep a positive attitude. Her body was used to moving constantly. She loved to socialize, walk, and talk. She was going to miss so much about her life for the next few weeks but, being around people all the time was the hardest to get over for her. She tossed her phone gently, only an inch or two out of the way and thought of reaching for it. She shooed it away with a wave of her hand and calculated the next hour she could take pain medication. Her ankle was under a bag of cool water, barely icy from when she had gotten up last to pack up a zip-lock of ice. The bag was seeping in slow droplets out of one corner of the bag onto her pillow. She hadn't noticed the dampness around her and wondered how long it had been since she had tried to wiggle her toes. She decided to sit up to move the bag to her nightstand, onto a plate leftover from breakfast, grabbing her phone on the way back down to her pillow. Her ab muscles were tired from her dancing the night before and she tried to recall if there were bananas left on the counter from last weeks grocery trip. She sighed heavily again, bored and sad of her position, unable to do anything to speed up time.
Her phone rang an hour later, her best friend, hoping she was okay and promising to stop by before work the next day. She had something to look forward to, at least. She was forced on bed rest for the remainder of the following three weeks. After which time, she would have a check-up and a doctor would determine if she was fit to go back to her office job. She hung up the phone and sighed at her own boredom. She surfed her accounts on her phone, proving the tv was not enough of a distraction from her melancholy. It was tough for her to keep a positive attitude. Her body was used to moving constantly. She loved to socialize, walk, and talk. She was going to miss so much about her life for the next few weeks but, being around people all the time was the hardest to get over for her. She tossed her phone gently, only an inch or two out of the way and thought of reaching for it. She shooed it away with a wave of her hand and calculated the next hour she could take pain medication. Her ankle was under a bag of cool water, barely icy from when she had gotten up last to pack up a zip-lock of ice. The bag was seeping in slow droplets out of one corner of the bag onto her pillow. She hadn't noticed the dampness around her and wondered how long it had been since she had tried to wiggle her toes. She decided to sit up to move the bag to her nightstand, onto a plate leftover from breakfast, grabbing her phone on the way back down to her pillow. Her ab muscles were tired from her dancing the night before and she tried to recall if there were bananas left on the counter from last weeks grocery trip. She sighed heavily again, bored and sad of her position, unable to do anything to speed up time.
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