Paxton held my hand until he had the crutch secured under my arm. My eyes searched out my room, hoping it wasn’t the loft up the stairs. I would have never made it.
“All the way to the end of the hall. The downstairs suite,” Paxton said, eyes shifting from mine to the white double doors. His nod directed me where to go and I hobbled away. As much as I wanted to remember who the hell I was, and why on earth I would marry someone like Paxton, I didn’t look around. Not even after I opened the doors to a large room with a king-sized bed right in the middle. I didn’t look around there, either. I went right to the bed and laid down, letting the crutches clink together and fall to the floor.
The bed was soft, covered by a fluffy white comforter, and I sank into it, appreciating the relief as the pressure was released from my broken body. I rolled to my side and closed my eyes, breathing long, deep breaths, trying to control the pain. I shouldn’t have been home yet. It was in too much for someone with my injuries. They should have never let me out of the hospital. I knew the night I had ahead of me, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
I vaguely remember taking the two pills from Paxton. I know I swallowed them with a glass of water, I know Paxton covered me with a quilt, and I know he kissed my forehead. That’s it. Darkness followed, and that was the last thing I remembered. At least it was peaceful
Chapter Three
My eyes opened to darkness. Thick, navy-blue curtains kept the light from spilling into the room. First, I assessed the pain. Most of it was gone. At least the shooting pains in my hips and lower back had departed. My ribs and chest hurt a little, but not too terribly.
Pressure with my hand against the mattress helped me sit up as I blinked away blurriness in search of the nearest bathroom. The pain did become almost unbearable when I had to bend to reach my crutches. I wouldn’t be doing that again. I’d make sure they were propped close by, not on the floor.
I hobbled my way toward a door, opened it, and scanned the space.
What a beautiful bathroom, yet it did confuse me. Unfamiliar makeup, perfume, and Jewelry blanketed a magnificent vanity on one wall. A girl’s dream come true. The shower was big enough for five people, complete with a bench, situated right in the center and topped by multiple showerheads. I looked forward to that luxury.
I grimaced as I lowered myself to the toilet, careful with where my crutches were placed. The thong panties had gone unnoticed until I slid them over my hips, pulling the thin line from the crack of my ass. I didn’t feel like they were me. None of this felt like me. A deep inhalation and a glance up to the ceiling kept me from crying. In order to keep myself together and not lose it, I chose to think about something else. I had to. At least until I figured out what to do. This couldn’t be my life.
It took nearly five minutes for me to maneuver my panties up and over my hips to stand, but the pain subsided once I stood. It was the getting there that killed me.
I flushed the toilet and shuffled back to my room, the room that didn’t feel like mine, either. I would have never chose the dark blues with white. I liked light tones. Earthy colors like tans and greens.
My confusion rose higher when I opened the walk-in closet. Amazing. White shelves lined one wall, full of folded jeans, shoes, purses, and T-shirts. Beautiful dresses with an assortment of outfits hung neatly on the other side. I gawked at the few evening dresses, but mostly casuals, the sundresses, long-flowing maxi-dresses, and sandals—lots of sandals in all colors—filled the closet space. As soon as I flipped on the light, it all went away, everything in my closet. I couldn’t see anything but me.
Round white lights circled a full wall mirror. Like something you would see in a Hollywood dressing room. That’s not what had my attention. The ghost standing before me held that. I had a weak and broken appearance with hollow eyes, a lost soul with nowhere to go. I knew it wasn’t right. It didn’t feel right. I didn’t belong here. Some people live a life with a feeling of void, but I was the one who felt obsolete. I was the missing link, the broken one that didn’t fit anymore. Again, I reverted my attention to something else…just like my mother had always preached.
Wait. My mother? How did I know that?