Thankfully, my belly isn’t currently empty, but that won’t last. Hazen has always made sure I never needed anything. It’s time I start acting like an adult rather than a toddler. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.
Stop allowing yourself to be so defenseless and get yourself out of this mess!
My attempt at a pep talk works enough to get me off the toilet and back on my knees. I am not going to try using my foot again until I get it bandaged, once and for all. The universe will not keep me down.
As I crawl to the shower, I’m a bit disappointed with myself for being back on my hands and knees after telling myself I’m not a helpless baby. Still, it only takes a few steps before I reach the ledge on the floor to keep the water inside.
Sitting my ass on the separator, I reach for all the items I need: tweezers, gauze, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and adhesive. I set them behind me on the floor, so they remain within reach. My left leg is bent at the knee, so my foot is resting on my thigh. A river of bright crimson oozes from a wound a half inch below my big toe.
I roll up both of legs of my flannel bottoms as high as possible so that I can avoid getting them wet. It’s unlikely there will be clothes left sitting around this place to replace the ones I have. The risk is not worth the reward at this juncture. I’m able to get them halfway up my thigh before the fabric is too thick to move any further.
Glass from the heart monitor screen is still deeply imbedded in the skin there and inside my heel, too. Just looking at the glass makes my stomach a bit queasy. I am not in the medical field for a reason. I’m a chief – at least, I was – so I only had to deal with blood when someone cut their finger open. Thankfully, I have enough first aid knowledge to get myself by.
The easiest way to clean my foot would be to go back to the sink. However, that is not happening. I’m sick of crawling and my knees are already sore from the tile anyway. Instead, I look up. The showerhead is pointed at the wall to my left, about a foot above my head.
Good, I can use this without dousing myself in freezing water.
I’m grateful I don’t have to move too far to turn the stall on. There is one handle to start the water, how far I turn it will give me a different temperature. Since I can touch the walls on either side of me without having to fully extend my arms, this seems like an easier task than attempting to get back to the sink.
Reaching to my right, the knob is situated a foot and a half away and two feet up from the floor. I only have to scoot my butt to the right a few inches before I’m able to place my entire hand on top of the handle.
The chilled metal, initially pointed down, rotates counterclockwise a full 540 degrees before it stops. Plumbing grunts and groans within the walls as water pushes its way through them to get to the shower. I imagine the liquid winding its way through as if it’s on a waterpark slide ushering people to the waving pool at the bottom.
By the time my imaginary person reaches the imaginary wading pool, water shoots from the shower head and hits the tiling on the wall. Each drop tings against the wall before it rushes down and into the drain. It almost sounds like a rainstorm as it pelts a tin roof.
Lifting my legs slightly, I wait for the freezing water to slowly warm up. It doesn’t take nearly as long as the sink did, but still longer than I would have liked. Splashes of water still sprinkle over me, but there’s nothing I can do at this point.
Slowly, the blood is rinsed away by the spray from the wall. From the sole of my foot to the drain, the red mixes with the water and follows it in trenches down the culvert. Reaching behind me, I turn my torso to the left and grab the pair of tweezers.
When I come back to my foot a second after, it is completely clear of blood even though crimson continues to trickle from the wounds. My hands are shaking, so when I pull the glass from my foot, the jagged edges dig away at my skin and widen the lacerations. I cringe but keep my foot as still as possible to avoid any more damage.
Letting the glass pieces fall down the drain, I allow the warmth of the water wash over my foot. My muscles relax a little as the pain is eased a bit. I release a sigh and a bit more of my tension with it.
Unfortunately, it isn’t long before dread begins to seep back into my bones. I have no way of drying my legs besides air drying them. With all the spray, both my legs are soaked. This may not have been a very good idea.
I reach over and turn the water off. A little more suffering is unavoidable at this venture. I almost wish I had snagged the sheet off the bed to use as a towel. I’m not going to risk stepping on more glass to get it, though. Air drying will have to work. There aren’t enough cotton balls to absorb all the liquid dripping from my legs.
With another heavy sigh, this one not helping the tension in my limbs, I grab the balls and start dabbing at the bottom of my foot. Blood slowly pours from the wounds, even as I dab at them. Soaking a new cotton ball with rubbing alcohol, I do what I can to further clean the injuries. After only a few seconds, the cotton has more red fluid on it than anything else.
There is no point in continuing to use the cotton balls, and I realize now that it was silly of me to try. Tossing them against the wall opposite me, I attempt a different tactic. Grabbing the alcohol, I pour the liquid onto my foot. Sucking in air through gritted teeth, my entire body tenses even more as I wince from the sting.
After the whole bottle is empty, I wrap my foot in gauze. Starting at the balls of my foot and wrapping around the top from right to left, the entire ten feet of dressing covers my foot and a small amount of my ankle. Not even my toes are poking out of the make-shift boot.
Time to get the hell out of here.
Other published works by SAMANTHA RIDENOUR
Waiting a Lifetime
Finding Home
Books to look forward to by SAMANTHA RIDENOUR
The PCB Mutation
The Chosen Six
The Witches of Moirae
The Secret Diaries of Ruby Ryanne and Aroura LeNayes
And many more!
The Unfavorable Page 24