Chapter 2
I kept hands over face. Palms pressed hard against eyes. Light leaked around fingers. Fluorescents hummed overhead. Cold air hit exposed shin. Blood pulsed hot against cold. I tried not to breathe loud. Breath came loud anyway.
Nurse moved fast. Not fast like panic. Fast like practiced. She turned sideways between cot and doorway. Her shoulder blocked sightline to my leg. Blue splint dangled from her left hand. Her right hand pulled white sheet down over my knee. Sheet did not touch wound. Sheet tented near wound. Created shadow. Hid wound from doorway window.
Knock hit door. Two short raps. Handle jiggled once. Did not open.
Muffled voice asked from hall. Female voice. Asked if exam room needed assistance. Asked if vitals ready.
Nurse answered without looking away from me. Voice stayed even. Low. Calm. She said exam needed privacy minute. Said she would call when ready. Said door should stay closed.
Hall voice paused. Said understood. Footsteps receded. Door window darkened again.
Nurse exhaled. Small sound. She did not lock door. She just stood closer. Her body made wall. I heard her set splint down on counter. Plastic clack against laminate. Then she crouched again. Eye level with cot. Not touching leg. Hands hovered.
She said she would not touch without asking. She said she needed to keep leg uncovered for safety. She asked if sheet felt okay where it was.
I nodded. Hands still over face. Nod moved palms against cheekbones. Skin felt wet there. I realized I had been crying. Not sobbing. Just tears leaking.
She waited. Counted breaths with me. I heard clock tick. Heard paper crinkle under my thighs.
Then she asked small question. Soft. Open. She asked what happened to leg. No why. No who. Just what happened.
My mouth went dry. Hands slid down just enough to show mouth. I stared at gray bruise spreading above knee. Dark purple edged with yellow. Skin scraped raw near shin. Blood beaded along scrape.
I said I fell. Said I fell on playground. Said I fell off bars. Words came quick. Too quick. Fell flat. I swallowed.
Nurse nodded once. Did not argue. Did not repeat my words back wrong. Her eyes flicked to bruise, then to my face. Micro-expression tightened at her jaw. She wrote nothing yet. She just listened.
I added detail unasked. Said bars were high. Said I landed hard on leg. Hands twisted together after I spoke. Fingers picked at shorts hem. I looked toward splint on counter. Bright blue against pale wall. Black straps hung loose. Dad gave those colors. I wanted splint back on. Wanted blue to cover mess again.
Nurse noticed gaze. She did not move splint. She said colors stayed in room. Said no one would take colors away. She said she needed to keep leg visible so nurse could help leg heal right.
I pulled knees up slightly. Wound tugged. Pain shot bright. I hissed. Hands flew back to face. Cover again. Hide again.
She leaned forward fraction. Said she understood leg hurt to show. Said hiding made sense when hurt and scared mixed together. She said brave meant letting nurse see hurt even while scared.
I breathed through fingers. Air hot inside palms. I wanted dad to come explain. Wanted mom call not happen. Loyalty pulled one way. Pain pulled other. I said nothing more. Silence stretched.
Nurse reached very slowly toward clipboard on counter. Not toward me. She pressed call button low on wall with elbow. No alarm sound. Just small light blinked near door. Quiet protocol. She spoke low into badge mic. Said exam room needed charge nurse for wound assessment. Said pediatric protocol. No names. No accusation.
May you like
She turned back to me. Said help would come quiet. Said door would stay closed until help arrived. Said I did not need to talk more right now.
I lowered hands just enough to peek between fingers. Sheet still tented. Leg still exposed. Door still closed. Room held still. Pain throbbed under fluorescents. Blue splint waited on counter. Unresolved.
