TW: violence
On the seventh day, my family came to visit. As soon as they walked in and saw my face, still swollen and bruised, they gasped in unison. I hadn't been able to bring myself to look in the mirror since that first time as I wanted to stay optimistic, but their reactions confirmed what I feared—it looked nasty.
With a deep breath, I forced myself to get out of bed with the help of the walking equipment in the room. My legs felt weak, and every step sent a jolt of pain through my abdomen but I persisted just to prove this point. "Do you guys want some water?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I hobbled over to the small table with the water pitcher.
Dammit! I was sure the nurse left her compact mirror in here!
My mom rushed to my side, her face etched with worry. "Kyle, you shouldn't be moving around like this. Sit down, please."
Dad stood behind her, his concern just as evident. "She's right, Kyle. You need to rest. Let us help you."
