Page 98 of Ghosts Don't Cry
“I want to go home.”
She studies me for a second, then nods. “Okay. Do you need help standing?” She doesn’t wait for me to reply and loops an arm around my waist, guiding me to my feet.
The ground lurches. My stomach flips. Cassidy curses under her breath when I sway, and tightens her hold.
“You with me?”
I nod, although I’m not sure it’s the truth.
She guides me to her car, and helps me onto the seat, then reaches across to clip the seatbelt in place. When she closes the door, it seals out the noise, but it doesn’t stop the pressure in my chest or the sensation that I’m still spinning.
Cassidy gets in beside me. She doesn’t start the car right away.
“I’m going to fucking kill him.”
I think she means Dan.
My head tips against the widow. The glass is cool against my burning skin. The throbbing in my cheek makes it hard to think.
“I don’t …” I close my eyes. “Cass, I don’t feel right.”
“You’re in shock.” She starts the engine. “We’re going to urgent care.”
“No. I just want to go home.”
“Lily, your lip needs stitches. Look at it.” She flips down the visor and angles it so I can see my reflection in the vanity mirror. “It’s still bleeding through the gauze. I’m not taking you home until someone looks at your face.”
I don’t have the energy to fight her. My head hurts too much. “Fine.”
The car moves. I watch the world outside pass by, twisting into shapes and colors that don’t make sense. Streetlights blur into long streaks, and buildings lean at wrong angles.
I close my eyes. Open them again. Try to focus. My fingers curl against my thighs.
Cassidy keeps glancing over at me, eyes filled with worry.
The urgent care center is loud and bright. The lights drill into my skull as Cassidy guides me through the automatic doors, one hand firm on my elbow. A nurse takes one look at my face and gets us into a room quickly.
The doctor is a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and steady hands. She examines my lip, my nose, and presses gently aroundmy cheekbone. Each touch hurts. She shines a light into my eyes, making me follow her finger.
“Concussion,” she confirms. “Moderate, I’d say. And this lip definitely needs stitches.” She looks at Cassidy. “She shouldn’t be left alone tonight. Wake her every few hours, check her pupils. If she vomits, has trouble waking up, or complains of severe headaches, bring her to the ER immediately.”
Cassidy nods. “I’ll stay with her.”
The stitches hurt. Five of them, pulling my split lip back together. I focus on breathing, staying still, and not thinking about Ronan’s blood-covered hands.
When it’s done, the doctor hands me a prescription for pain medication and antibiotics.
“Ice it regularly. Rest. And seriously, ifanythingchanges, if you feel worse, go straight to the emergency room.”
Back in the car, Cassidy turns to me.
“Are you okay?”
I open my mouth, then close it. “It feels like my brain is stuck.”
She makes a frustrated sound, then reaches into the console for a tissue. She holds it out. I stare at it.
“There’s some blood on your chin.”
