The hospital room was cold, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones, making it impossible to get comfortable no matter how many blankets you had. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the persistent dull ache in my leg. The doctors had told me I'd never walk the same again, and that knowledge gnawed at me constantly. But right now, something else was on my mind.
Frankie's really bad mood was bringing everything down.
"The food here sucks ass," I muttered, my voice thick with frustration. The hospital had become a prison, and the tasteless food was just another reminder of how trapped I was. I turned my head slightly to look at Frankie, who was standing at the foot of my bed, his brown hair falling over one eye. He looked as calm as ever, but I knew him well enough to sense the tension underneath.
