Dad.
“Her injuries are extensive.” The doctor standing on the other side of the room answers him, startling me. “She suffered multiple fractures, including the left femur and three ribs, and had a comminuted fracture to her left hip. The impact also caused a pneumothorax… her left lung collapsed due to a puncture wound from a branch.”
My stomach twists.That’s why I can’t breathe on my own, and there’s that feeling in my throat. It must be a tube helping me breathe.
“The damage to her left kidney was also significant,” the doctor continues. “We had no choice but to remove it. There was internal bleeding in the abdomen as well, and we discoveredextensive damage to her fallopian tubes during surgery. We did what we could. She’s stable now, but it was close. If she hadn’t been airlifted when she was, we likely wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
A beat of silence, then my father’s voice comes again, his tone just as clinical as the doctor’s, only colder, and even more detached. “And her prognosis?”
“She’ll recover, but it will take time. Months of rehabilitation, probably multiple surgeries.” A short pause follows, then, “She’ll never race professionally again.”
If I could breathe, that would’ve taken all my air.
Never race again.
Never.
No.
No, no, no.
This was supposed to be my year. I was supposed to win, supposed to take the title.
I was supposed to go elite.
It was mine.
And now, it’s gone?
Just like that?
I try to make a sound. A desperate, panicked sound, anything to tell them I’m here, I’m awake, I can hear this, and I refuse the words being spoken about me, but nothing comes out.The ventilator hisses, the machine beeps, and my father exhales.
“I see.” That’s it. Not a single question about me, about how I am, or if I’m awake or in pain.“I’ll make arrangements for her education.”
Arrangements. To him, I’m just a problem to fix. My life hasn’t just been shattered into pieces,and I’m not even right here.
Rage joins the party with panic and pain, right beneath the helplessness, the deep, crushing grief, and I’mscreaming inside. Clawing at the edges of this body, this bed.
Dane rubs a hand over his face. “She hasn’t even fucking woken up, and you’re talking about school?”
“There’s no reason to delay this. She won’t be racing anymore, so it’s best to set her up for the future.”
I want to scream, to rip the tube from my throat and tell him to go to hell.
But I can’t.
I can’t fucking move.I can’t do anything.
Dane grips his phone tighter, knuckles going white.“Do you even care?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but it shakes. “Do you even care what this will mean to her?”
“I’ll leave you to it.” The doctor exits the room, and then there is only silence before Dad breaks it with a heavy sigh.
“Of course, I care. What do you want me to say, Dane? You knew exactly what this sport could do to people when you begged me to let her race with you. When you told me you’d look out for her.” I can’t even wrap my head around what he just said. Did he just put the blame on Dane? “Emotions won’t change reality. The sooner she understands that, the better.”
Dane’s head snaps up, anger flashing through his bloodshot eyes.
“Fuck you,” he grinds out. “Just… fuck you.”
