Author's note:
Welcome to the fourth of six (or seven) chapters! I must again thank those who took the time to read, vote, comment and/or email me about the first three chapters, and I'm grateful for the advice and editing of the wonderful and accomplished author karaline. This is a story about a relationship between consenting and fictional adults. Thank you again for reading!
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Jane was disoriented, and without a sense or time or place; there was only a vague sensation of pain which grew stronger and sharper. She started to feel nauseous.
Pain. Lots of it, mostly in her ankle and wrist and on her cheekbone. And wetness on her face - blood? Had she fallen? She tried to focus her eyes but nothing made sense - colours and shapes were just a swirl. There were noises. Speech. She tried to pull herself into a sitting position but her arms didn't work properly and pain shrieked through her wrist and ankle until she felt like screaming too.
Panic. Where was she? Why couldn't she move? What was wrong with her?
"Stay still. Stop trying to move." A voice, deep and familiar. Close to her ear. Comforting. She wasn't alone. She lay still. The pain wasn't as agonizing when she was still, but it was there, and steadily building.
"Mike?"
"Yeah, I'm here. You fell down the stairs. An ambulance is on its way. Don't move."
The pain dispersed the fog in her mind and she remembered. It was Friday morning. She'd shown up early to Mike's to get a jump on the laundry and to cook breakfast. Mike usually did the breakfast but she'd wanted to go the extra mile - continue the good vibrations from Wednesday. Mike was eating and she'd grabbed a basket of dirty laundry and was lugging it down the stairs when her ankle rolled and she fell.
The curse had struck again. The vengeful old lady had tasked her to 'regain the trust most cruelly betrayed or die before spring', and the effects of that hex were growing more pronounced with each passing week. And the first day of spring was less than a month away...
"Don't leave me," she said. He wouldn't leave her like this, surely?
"I'm here. I'm not leaving."
"It hurts."
"Where does it hurt?"
"All over."
"Your chest or stomach?"
"No."
"Your back?"
"No. My wrist and ankle. My face."
"Can you breathe okay?"
She took a few breaths to confirm. "Yes."
"Okay. Lie still. Help is coming," he said. His voice was steady. It made her feel better to hear it.
"Don't leave."
"I won't."
The paramedics arrived and there was a flurry of activity; more questions, gentle squeezing and prodding, sickening pain as she was braced and maneuvered onto a stretcher and lifted into the ambulance. Her head and neck were immobilized with blocks and straps but she could see Mike and Nessa riding in the ambulance with her. The kid looked terrified and clung to her father.
"I'm sorry," Jane said.
"No need for that. Just lie still," Mike said. He reached over and brushed her hair out of her face.
"How bad does it look?"
"Not too bad. I looked worse after my last fight," he said. She saw his smile and relief flooded through her. She was in good enough shape to joke with, anyway.
"No, seriously."
"You can move your fingers and toes so that's good. They want to check you for a concussion and internal injuries."
"Stay with me, please?"
"I already called Greg told him I won't be in. Took Nessa out of school for the day, too. We can stay with you."
"I'm sorry," she said again.
"Don't be sorry. Just lie still."
They rode in silence for a few minutes.
"This is the curse. It's trying to kill me," she said, her voice a whisper. "I thought I had more time."
"You tripped and fell. Happens every day. It was just an accident."
"It wasn't an accident..."
"Janey," Mike said, his voice quiet and firm. "This isn't the time, okay?" He put his arm around Nessa and drew her in closer. The kid was wide-eyed in horror.
Damn. She'd forgotten about Nessa. Jane forced a reassuring smile.
"I'm okay, Nessa. I guess I need to be more careful when I go down the stairs."
"And always hold the railing," Nessa said.
"Always," Jane agreed.
A few minutes later the ambulance stopped and Jane was wheeled into the hospital. Triage. More questions. Mike filled out paperwork on her behalf and she was given a bed in the holding unit. The initial diagnosis was a moderate sprain of her left ankle and right wrist, a broken nose and a minor concussion. There was some purple facial bruising and both her eyes had swollen and blackened. X-rays and a head CT scan were scheduled and the doctor recommended she stay twenty-four hours for observation. Overall it wasn't a bad outcome after falling down a flight of stairs.
"You don't have to stay, Mike," Jane said after the doctor left. "I'm in good hands here."
"You sure?"
"You and Nessa have been here for hours. Go home and get some lunch."
"There's a cafeteria downstairs. We could just grab a bite there."
Jane smiled at his graciousness. "I'm fine. Thanks for staying - I was a little shaken at first. I'm okay now."
"Alright. I left my number at the nurse's station, so they can call if you need anything," he said.
"Thanks."
Mike bundled Nessa up and they left. The rest of the day was long periods of boredom interrupted by diagnostic tests, followed by more boredom. Her ankle was elevated and painkillers did a good job of bringing the aching and throbbing to a manageable level.
Jane spent her time trying to figure out how she could keep her deal with Mike now that she'd be off her feet for a while - the doctor said the ankle sprain in particular might require four weeks or more to heal. No more lugging laundry up and down stairs, that was for sure. But her fall had underscored the urgency of her situation - the curse seemed to be ramping up its efforts to kill her, and she needed to break it before the start of spring.
She ate a better-than-expected hospital dinner and spend much of the evening dozing.
