Page 52 of Born into Darkness

“Sounds good,” I tell him.

I have no idea what to expect, but when he grips my index finger and starts to pull, I wince at the sickening crunch I hear, even though it doesn’t hurt. There’s a clunking sort of sound that makes my doctor grin when he hears it.

“One down,” he says. “Three more to go.”

“I think I might wait outside,” I hear my mom say. I look up, noticing that she’s gone very pale and is looking very sick. “I’ll be right outside if you need me, honey.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” I tell her. “I’ll be fine.”

“It’s always the sound that gets people,” Dr. Frost says. “The visual is bad enough, but it’s the sounds that usually do it.”

“She lasted longer than most,” the nurse says. “We’ve had several moms pass out.”

“My mom’s pretty tough,” I say, watching as he pulls on my next finger, manhandling it back to where he wants it. He’s right about the noises. The grinding sound is bad enough, but it’s the audible pops that make me cringe every time I hear them. I’m going to have nightmares about that fucking sound.

It takes about thirty minutes for the doctor to work his way through my right hand, but finally my fingers are all pointed in the right direction again. They look like shit, but they’re at least straight. Before he splints them, he has me do one more scan to make sure everything looks good, and then my hand is carefully wrapped up. A splint is put on my hand, immobilizing each finger while leaving my thumb free. My fingers are wrapped in soft padding and secured with a special tape, and the whole thing keeps them slightly bent instead of forcing them straight. When he’s satisfied, my entire hand is wrapped in an elastic bandage, leaving nothing but my thumb and the very tips of my fingers visible.

“This will allow blood flow and prevent any further damage,” Dr. Frost tells me.

I look down at the bulky monstrosity that is my hand and ask, “How long do I have to wear this?”

“Here’s the fun part,” he says, scooting back on his stool while the nurse gathers the extra supplies. “This will stay as is for fourteen days. I want to see you three times a week to make sure the alignment is perfect and that the swelling is going down. After that, we’ll get more x-rays and do some tweaking with the splints. I’ll be bringing a hand therapist on board immediately. He has a lot of experience with musicians. You’re in good hands, Max. We’re all going to do everything we can to get you fixed up and playing again.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I tell him.

He stands back up and pats my leg. “Rest as much as you can. I’m giving you a prescription for painkillers, and stop working on cars.” Eyeing my hand, he adds, “You’re obviously no good at it. And, Max,” he says, waiting for me to meet his eyes, “maybe don’t piss anyone else off.”

I give a soft laugh. “Sure thing, Doc.”

My dad shakes his hand, thanking him again before he leaves and my mom comes back in.

She gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t take the noise.”

My dad wraps an arm around her and kisses her head. “Don’t apologize,sladkaya. No one expected you to sit through that. You’ve been through enough.”

“Can we please leave? I’m dying for a bath,” I say.

My dad helps me into a clean shirt and then gets me checked out so we can leave. I want to see everyone and thank them for coming to get me, but I can’t do anything until I’m clean. My need to scrub off this filth is overpowering. I’d gotten to where I could ignore it in the basement, but that’s because I knew I didn’t have a choice and that to focus on it would result in a slow descent into insanity. But now that a shower is literally within reach, it’s all I can fucking think about.

They insist I stay with them while I heal, and as soon as we step into the apartment, I head for the bathroom.

“You sure you don’t need help?” my dad asks. “Your Uncle Vitaly had to bathe Val when he got back. There’s no shame in it, son.”

I laugh and shake my head. “I’ll be sure and ask him about that. I’ll be fine, Dad. I’ll take a one-handed bath. It’ll be awesome.”

Turns out it isn’t awesome at all, and after several minutes of trying to manhandle the spray nozzle with my non-dominant hand while keeping the other fully dry and away from the water, I give up and yell for my brother. Niki walks in a few minutes later, and without a word, grabs the nozzle and motions for me to sit up. He wets my hair and then dumps a generous amount of shampoo on my head.

“Jesus, you’re filthy,” he finally says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” I agree, hanging my arm over the side and resigning myself to the fact that I’m going to need help until I can get the hang of things. While he scrubs the dirt from my hair, I say, “Tell me everything,” and he does. While he rinses my hair and then starts in on a second shampooing, he tells me all about my family’s relentless pursuit in trying to find us, Yelena’s miscarriage scare, Val’s return, and then, finally, every detail of the rescue mission that I was completely unconscious for, including Sasha’s rescue of a dog.

“Did you see Talia?” I ask after he’s finished and we’re draining the tub for the second time.

“I did. Dad said when he first found you, she was guarding your body, ready to kill anyone who came near you. She’d already killed some guard, stabbed him right in the fucking neck.”

My chest aches at knowing how scared she must’ve been, but a surge of pride also fills me. I’m not at all surprised that she was able to do it; I just hate that she had to.

“Her family is pretty intense.” He stands to get me a towel. “One of her brothers is one hell of a shot.”

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