Page 50 of Born into Darkness

“Jesus, what the hell was I on? How did I sleep through all this?” I ask, trying to piece together everything that happened. “I remember my hand, and I remember Talia taking care of me afterwards. I think she gave me some aspirin, but that wouldn’t have knocked me out like this.”

“You had Rohypnol in your system,” my dad says. “The bottle said morphine, but Tony knew it had to be something stronger than that when you didn’t wake up during the flight back.”

“Jesus,” I groan. “That explains it, I guess.”

My dad gives me a slight grin and says, “Also, your hand was crushed when you were helping your cousin work on his car.”

I look up at him. “I’m filthy on a level that I didn’t even know was possible, I crushed my hand while working on a car, and someone slipped me the date-rape drug. This is the story we’re going with?”

My dad shrugs. “They can’t prove it didn’t happen, and I told them it was a prescription you got in Russia. You were having really bad insomnia, so you took one at night, but it made your reflexes slow the next day. You fucked up your hand when you couldn’t pull it away in time. It’s not the greatest excuse, but this is a private hospital, and I’ve already made it clear I’ll be giving them a huge donation. They’re not going to make waves. They want the money too badly to do that.”

Before I can ask any more questions, there’s a slight knock on the door. The man who enters is probably mid-fifties, tall and thin with dark glasses that remind me of Tony’s. That’s the only similarity he shares with the much younger Alessi doctor, though.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Frost.” He glances around the room, nodding at my parents before putting his focus on me. “You must be Maxim?”

“That’s me,” I say. I use my left hand to point at the useless right one. “You think you can fix this, Doc?”

He comes closer and takes a better look at my hand. “I want a CT scan and an MRI to get a better idea of the damage involved.” He pulls back and meets my eyes again. “I heard this happened from some sort of accident while you were working on a car.”

“Yeah, turns out I’m not a good mechanic,” I say with a shrug, knowing he’s not buying a word of my bullshit. “If you can fix my hand, I’ll just stick with the piano.”

Before he puts the topic to rest, he asks, “Are you sure there isn’t something you want to tell me about all this?” His eyes linger on my filthy hair and still-healing face, and I can’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“I’ve been camping for the last week with my cousin. I know I look a wreck, but I can assure you I’m taking a shower as soon as I’m allowed to.”

“It’ll probably be a bath,” he warns me, “but first let’s see how much damage we’re dealing with.” He turns to my parents and says, “I’m going to get a wheelchair so we can get the scans done. Once I see them, I can decide if surgery is needed.”

“Will he be able to play again?” my mom asks, voicing the question I’d been too afraid to ask.

Dr. Frost gives nothing away. “Let’s wait and see what the scans show first.”

She comes over and kisses my head, not even slightly deterred by how filthy I am. My entire family has matching dark circles under our eyes, and we’ve all lost weight. The last several weeks have been rough on all of us, and I’m still trying to adjust to my very newfound freedom when the nurse comes in with a wheelchair. The doctor deems me fully hydrated, and I’m allowed to be unhooked from the IV. It’s the first time my hands haven’t been bound or attached to something since I was taken. My mind keeps straying to Talia, wondering how she’s doing, worried she won’t want to see me again now that we’re free, and missing her so badly it’s a physical ache in my chest.

Over the next hour, I’m rolled around the hospital and my hand is put through one machine after another. Even with the painkillers they’ve been giving me, the pain is immense when anything touches my fingers, but whatever the scans show seems to please my new doctor.

Once we’re all back in my room, he says, “I won’t need to do surgery to repair any ligament or tendon damage, which is very good news, and none of the bones are broken.”

My mom squeezes my good hand and lets out a relieved breath while I wait for whatever else he’s about to say.

“The bad news is that I do need to realign each dislocated joint. We’ll numb your entire arm for it, but the sooner we can realign your fingers, the better.”

“Fantastic,” I say, not looking forward to having my fingers touched in any way.

“I know,” my doctor says, not even slightly put out by my sarcasm. “You’ll feel better after we get you numbed up. Once your fingers are back in alignment and I’ve got you wrapped up, you can go home and rest.”

All I want is to take a shower and see Talia again, and if this is what I need to do to make that happen, then I’m more than ready to get it out of the way.

The doctor looks at my parents and says, “This room is set up for minor procedures, so I’m comfortable doing it in here if you are.”

“Sounds good to me,” my dad says. “I’d rather be here in case he needs us anyway.”

My mom nods her agreement while Niki looks at my hand, practically wincing at the sight of it.

“It looks worse than it is,” I try to tell him, but he just raises a brow at me, not buying my bullshit for a second.

A nurse steps in to help, and when they cut my sweatshirt off me, I feel a twinge of embarrassment at how dirty I am. The sweatshirt was filthy, but at least it was a barrier of some kind. There’s no hiding how in need I am of a shower now, though, and all I can do is give a soft laugh and say, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t planning on coming in here like this.”

No one laughs at my attempt at humor, and when I look up, I realize it’s because they’re all staring at my exposed upper body. I’d gotten so used to having the shit kicked out of me by Miguel that I’d completely forgotten about how bad I must look.

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