My door was like a turnstile, making it impossible for me to get much sleep. Aside from my personal visitors, there was a constant rotation of hospital staff. Someone checking my lungs, another taking my blood, doctors coming in to speak to me, the kitchen delivering meals. With each interruption, my patience weakened.

The pain was the one thing that never left.

The rod caused the rest of my body to stiffen, my ass ached, and there was a fire in my legs that wouldn’t dull, a numbness from my knees down.

Nighttime made it worse.

When the lights were off, the hallway kept my room barely aglow, and I heard shoes squeaking by every few seconds, a flash of blue each time. I wanted to crawl out of my fucking skin.

Skin that didn’t even feel like my own anymore.

When I couldn’t take another second, I reached for the intercom attached to the bed and pressed the call button.

“Can I help you?” a woman said through the speaker.

“I need my nurse.”

“I’ll let her know. She’ll be there as soon as possible,” she said and then disconnected the call.

Each time the rubber soles got louder, a pang of hope filled my chest that my nurse would soon hit something on the IV and the agony would be gone for a little while. But each time, the sound continued past my room, never stopping in here.

Stillness wasn’t something I’d practiced before my injury. Now, lying in this bed, I thought of nothing but my future, fearing what it was going to look like. If it was going to be spent on my back, attached to a goddamn mattress, constantly screaming out in pain.

I took risks for a living, gambling my clients’ money as their financial advisor, living a lifestyle that was more active than anyone I knew.

I wasn’t afraid of anything.

Until this.

Until even the smallest shift came with a debilitating amount of torture.

“Hi,” a woman said from my doorway, breaking me of my thoughts. “Your nurse is helping another patient, but I have a free second. Is there something I can help you with?”

She came in, checking the machines as though she could find the answer there.

I looked toward the window, squeezing the blanket in my fists. “You can go get her—that’s what you can do.”

There was pressure on the back of my pillow as she tried to move it. “Lift your head for me.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I can tell your neck is bothering you, and I can give you some relief.”

There was a calmness to her voice, a tone I hadn’t heard the whole time I’d been in this room, enough that it made me raise my head. She immediately cupped the back with her hand, taking the weight off my neck while she adjusted things.