Page 15 of Betraying Bexley

Chapter 3

The first thing to register in Bex's mind, besides being so warm was pain. Everything from the follicles of her hair to the tips of her toes ached like she'd been run over by a truck a gazillion times. The second thing she noticed was the smell of her sheets. They were clean, crisp, and had a woodsy-scent to them. Definitely not hers. The final thing she noticed was the fact she wasn't on the floor. The make-shift pallet she'd put together for her bed at the apartment comprised of a mattress, three blankets, and a single sheet.

What happened?

She tried to remember where she was, but came up blank. Her memory was fuzzy, and her mind couldn’t process anything. She cracked her eye open and shot straight up in bed. Her world spun and her vision swam before she fell back onto the pillows and groaned.Stupid mistake.This wasn't her home though. She cracked her eyes open slowly this time, allowing her body to adjust. Bex never had such a picture-perfect view nor had she ever been so warm. The purple-grey clouds hung heavy in the sky. The ground was covered in frost while the bare-limbed tree swayed in the breeze. Bex's heart hammered, as much as she enjoyed the serene scene outside, inside, fear knotted her stomach.

A soft sigh beside her drew her attention to the corner of the room. Another wave of confusion filled her along with a wave of nausea courtesy of her sitting up too fast. She took a couple of deep breaths to settle herself then studied the sleeping figure. It was Bronx. Her arms were wrapped around a jacket cover her. Her hair was sleep-tussled. Purple smudges marred her eyes and her mouth was slacked allowing her to drool.

"B-B—" Bex coughed, her throat scratchy and dry. "B-Bronx?"

The girl snapped upright. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

Bex tried to grin but hissed instead. She felt the corner of her mouth and frowned internally.

“Hey, you’re awake. Thank fuck! We thought you weren’t ever going to wake up.” Bronx stood then placed the jacket on the chair before crossing to Bex. “You’ve been asleep for three days.”

“T-Three d-days?” No, she couldn’t have slept that long. Fear clogged her throat. “I-I g-got to go.”

With a sympathetic look, Bronx placed her hand on Bex’s shoulder, holding her in place. “You’re safe, promise. This is my place—well our home.”

“Y-You d-don’t understand.” She pushed the blankets away with her right arm and yelped when they brushed against her freshly casted left wrist.Damn it. Not again.

“Make me understand over some breakfast, okay?” Bronx smiled. “Oh! You’re not going anywhere like that.” She hurried to the chair and pulled the jacket away, exposing a prosthetic leg that appeared to be on steroids. “Bex 2.0. Or whatever you want to call your leg.”

Heat filled Bex’s cheeks. With the school uniforms there was never any way to conceal her prosthetic, but having it removed left her vulnerable and naked, in a way. “I d-didn’t name it before.”

"Well, I think you have to now." Bronx brought the prosthesis to the bed. "Your sleeve should be here soon. We had to special order it. Your leg is—" She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No one ever fit you properly for this prosthetic, did they?"

Embarrassment and shame raced through Bex. She dipped her face, trying to hide the recrimination. Bronx had hit the nail on the head, no one helped her. She’d done it all herself and, as she peered down at the healing sores, it showed. “N-no.”

“Didn’t think so.” She showed Bex the socket. “I modified it. Made it a bit smaller so it would fit to your leg better.” She then pointed to the knee joint. “This was fucked up, so I reconstructed it with a few modifications including getting those sensor things to differentiate inclines and stairs.” Bronx went through everything she’d changed. “Your foot also has sensors in it too to compensate for your gait and slowly over time, correct your limp and sway.”

Bex stared at the appendage with the blazing phoenix painted on it in brilliant shades of orange, reds, and yellows. It was magnificent and beautiful. "W-Wait. Why?"

Bronx frowned. “You don’t remember what happened?”

She shook her head.

"Oh, honey." Bronx ran her fingers through her multi-colored hair. "You had another run-in with The Bitches."

A sob filled Bex’s chest. “N-No. N-Not again.” It was bad enough she couldn’t remember what happened to her, but to know someone had to witness the beating she took? Embarrassment and shame washed over her.

“Yes. It was bad. Alé and I found you.” Bronx swallowed hard. “I was so scared. You told us to leave you there while they were beating you.”

Sounded like Bex. She didn’t want anyone to get into the middle of her shit. The minute anyone did, they too got hurt and she couldn’t live with their injuries or death on her conscience anymore. “I g-got to g-go.”

“You’re safe here,” Bronx said. “Promise.”

No, her father’s men would be looking for her. Though, over the last few weeks, they seemed to become more and more distant with her. They hadn’t been there the day those men approached her. They hadn’t been driving behind her when she walked home. In fact, the last two times she’d gone to the dry cleaners the place had been closed and no one came to make the pick-up, nor had anyone dropped any money off. It’d been another reason why she didn’t have extra cash on hand for food.

Her stomach growled and she folded her arms around her middle. “W-What am I wearing?”

“It’s complicated.” Bronx shrugged while blushing.

“Uh...”

“It’s one of Alé’s flannels.” Bronx gave a nervous chuckle.

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