Page 1 of Finding a Melody

Chapter One

I hated doctor’s offices. Even now, as I sat in one of the patient rooms waiting for my doctor to come back with the results, I hated it. The room was white, clinical. Cold. Lonely. The posters held my attention and I read through them for the tenth time, knowing none of the information had changed and that I hadn’t missed any of it.

The first one was of a more humorous pain poster where on the scale, one was a ‘why am I here?’ level and ten was a ‘mauled by wolves’ level. The poster next to it was about breast cancer, how to do self-checks, what to look out for, and how often to be checked by a doctor.

All of it very boring, but there was nothing else to do while I waited for my verdict.

My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it, needing anything to distract myself. Otherwise, I was going to start singing at the walls. If I did that, they might decide I also needed to be admitted for a psych eval. I’d gone through it once when I was admitted after my mother nearly beat me to death. I didn’t want to go through it again.

Seth: Are you sure everything’s okay?

Staring down at his text, I asked myself that very question. Was everything okay? Not even close. I was still reeling from the fact that someone had broken into my house, still suffered from injuries my mom gave me months ago, and still didn’t quite know what to do with the boys who I decided were worth knowing. My instincts kept telling me to pull away from them, to push them out of my life, but I knew I didn’t want that. I was just scared.

Right?

Hopefully?

I really hoped so. I liked having Seth, Toby, Paxon, Justin, and even Bryan around. They helped make me feel normal, even if they didn’t completely know the full story of my life.

I groaned and leaned back on the patient bed. Answering Seth meant lying to him at the moment, and there were enough secrets between us that I didn’t need to add to it.

“Damn.”

A knock on the door caught my attention, and I sat back up.

“Come in.” I played with the hem of my shirt, not sure what to do with myself as the doctor came in. She entered with a small smile, but it didn’t reflect in her dark brown eyes. It was a look I knew from her all too well. My hope was destroyed, and she didn’t need to open her mouth to do it.

“Dr. Hadaway, please tell me I’m all better?”

Just that morning on the drive to school, my fingers had gone numb and had stayed that way for the rest of the morning. It was hard to explain why I kept dropping my pen during class when the guys asked about it. Clumsy wasn’t a good enough excuse.

One of her short, light brown curls escaped her bun and she tucked it behind her ear. “Afraid not. How is the pain? Where is it currently?”

“Lower back, down to my butt.”

She nodded. “And other symptoms?”

I waved my fingers.

“Cervical spine. There’s still some healing throughout all your spine. The brunt of the damage you took from your mother was in your cervical and lumbar spine.”

“Yeah, she got a little stompy there at the end,” I said, trying to make a joke.

It fell flat as Dr. Hadaway scowled at me. She didn’t even have to say anything.

I looked down at my hands. “Sorry.”

“What happened to you will never be a joke. I understand needing to be able to laugh, but you also need to remember that you came into my care with a traumatized body. The human body can be mysterious. We have a lot of answers to help it heal, but not all of them, especially when it comes down to spinal and brain injuries. Your spine needs time. And it will be frustrating, but we’ll continue to give it the support it needs. You need to take care of yourself.”

Feeling properly chastised, I nodded.

Dr. Hadaway blew out a breath. She didn’t often do that to me, but I also knew I wasn’t the easiest patient. And she cared. She really did. There weren’t many people by my side after the attack. I woke up in the hospital to nurses and doctors all around. Amy, my lawyer, stopped by when she could once she found out where I was. That was it. No friends. No family. Just strangers. Dr. Hadaway realized that quickly and would make a point to stop by before and after her shifts.

“You have physical therapy tomorrow, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Keep that up and I’ll schedule another appointment with you in a few weeks to check again. How is gabapentin working for you? Do we need to adjust? Any side effects?”