Prank Gone Wrong Chapter 08

Prank Gone Wrong Chapter 08

The days that followed were a special kind of hell.

Medical bills piled up like snowfall. David’s union insurance covered most of it. The out-of-pocket costs still crushed us.

That wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was rehab.

The physical therapist was a tough woman. She bent my frozen joints every day. No mercy.

“Push, Maya. Push!”

Every tiny movement ripped muscle fibers apart. I bit down. Sweat soaked through my hospital gown. I nearly blacked out more times than I can count.

The hospital was strict about pain meds. Opioid crisis protocols. Two Tylenol a day. When they changed my dressings, I just had to take it.

The nurse peeled away adhesive bandages. Skin came with them. I bit down on a tongue depressor until my jaw ached.

Even breathing tortured me.

My shattered ribs were healing. Slowly. Every inhale was a tiny knife twisting in my chest.

But the psychological damage was worse. Far worse.

When I closed my eyes, the basement came back.

Harper’s twisted face. The blinding flashlight. The steel chair coming down.

“Die, freak!”

That curse looped in my skull. A nightmare I couldn’t wake from.

C-PTSD stole my sleep. Whole nights. Gone.

The hospital psychologist came every day.

“Maya. We need to start EMDR. You have to let the emotions out.”

But I couldn’t cry.

I’d used up all my tears in those three months.

I was empty. A hollowed-out shell.