While I was alone waiting for Sarah to come back, I looked around the room I’d be living in for the next few weeks. The walls were a pale shade of green that looked a lot like regurgitated guacamole, it was pretty ugly but better than white I supposed. The only furniture in the room, besides the bed, was 2 chairs near the door and a bedside table. A window on my left flooded the room with natural light.

It was about ten minutes later when I heard a knock on the door. Looking up, I saw Sarah standing there, a stack of books in her hands and a smile on her face. “I got those books you asked for,” she said, walking into the room.

I nodded, grateful for something to alleviate the boredom. “Thanks a lot Sarah, you’re a life saver. What kinds did you get?”

Sarah blushed and ducked her head, her words coming out muffled, “Mostly children’s books…but I did find some interesting ones in the Doctor’s Lounge!” and with those words she was back to her usual high spirited self.

I couldn’t help but smile, her enthusiasm was infectious. “Let’s see them then,” I said, and she happily placed them on the bed beside me. Looking through the books, I laughed inwardly at the choices ‘Little Red Riding Hood’, ‘The Three Pigs’, ‘Cinderella’, ‘The Three Musketeers’. My eyes widened when I saw the title of the fifth book ‘Werewolves: Children of the Moon’ and for a moment my thoughts flashed to the dog that attacked me, I shivered.

Sarah came and placed her hand on my forearm. “Mr. Andrews, are you alright?” she asked.

I shook my head slightly to clear my thoughts and smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine, just remember something,” I told her, ignoring her look of disbelief, “And please, call me Stephen,”

That got her to smile but then her watch alarm went off making her flinch at the sudden noise. Sarah looked at it and frowned. “Well I’m almost off my shift, and I have a few errands to run before I get home,” she said and I could feel the apology in her tone.

“That’s alright, thanks again for the books,”

She blushed and looked down a bit as she said, “I’ll try to bring better ones next time, count on it.” With that she left.

I turned back to the books she brought me and I laughed at the variety. They went from interesting fantasy books like ‘Harry Potter and The Philosopher’s Stone’ to cheesy romance novels like ‘Heroes Are My Weakness’. Looking at the options I had, I separated them into three piles, ‘Definitely gonna read’, ‘Maybe I’ll read if I’m bored enough’ and ‘Definitely won’t read’. Understandably, all the romance novels went into the last pile.

After I set the piles aside, I picked up the book at the very top of ‘Definitely gonna read’ and started reading. The name was ‘Cinderella’.

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The rest of the week passed by in a blur. Jesse had come to visit like he’d promised and proceeded to chew me out for about 10 minutes about leaving before him and then getting hurt because of it. I recounted the attack for him too and his reaction was similar to my dad, though, less touchy.

The police had come early the following morning to talk to me and they had me answer a few questions. They didn’t seem to believe me like my dad and Jesse did when I gave them my description of the dog. One of the officers didn’t even try to hide it, snorting when I described the height and almost immediately writing it off witnessed under the influence and thus not completely reliable. Promising to get back to me if they had any further questions or leads on my attacker, they left.

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The only other thing to note about that week was that when my mother showed up…She didn’t show up alone.

At first she stopped at the door, as if she was afraid to come in. She turned to have a quick whispered conversation with someone behind her. They placed a hand on her shoulder and that seemed to give her the courage to walk into the room, though they didn’t come in with her.

“Hey, Steph,” She’d said as she came up to my bed. It took a lot of self-control not to flinch away when she reached out to touch my hand.

“Hey…mum.” Her eyes watered slightly and I realised she’d heard my hesitation. Part of me didn’t feel sorry.

“Your dad told me about what happened. How are you?”

“I’m as good as I can be, I guess, how ‘bout you?” I looked up at her. My mom was pretty. Her auburn hair fell almost to the middle of her back, her large eyes were ‘a warm brown that captures your attention…and holds it’ my dad would say, every time he reminisced about her. She had soft cheekbones, a petite nose and full lips. All features one would expect from a retired model.

She smiled weakly at me. “I’ve been…I’ve been well. Henry and I just got back from our trip to Africa and-” she stopped when I flinched and I honestly could help it. Henry Richardson, the ‘person’ standing outside the door, waiting for her to finish her talk with me, was my mom’s boyfriend and the reason she left my dad and me when I was only 6 years old.

I tried to smile but all I could manage was a grimace. Sighing I ducked my head and said, “Sorry mum, I really am, but let’s not talk about him right now yeah?”

She frowned a bit but nodded nonetheless. “So when do you get out?” she asked, pulling up a chair to sit.

I shrugged and shifted slightly. The stitches on my back were really itchy. “The doc said that it depends on whether I keep healing at this rate or not. But I should be out in a few weeks.”

She tilted her head to the side and asked, “Healing at what rate?”

“Well, he said that I was healing at a phenomenal rate, and that usually someone who came in with injuries like these” I gestured to my left shoulder, “would be stuck in the hospital for at least 3 months. They also wouldn’t be able to lay on they’re back for a while without major discomfort.”

My mum’s eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs. “But how is that possible?”

I shrugged again and said, “Beats me, I’m just glad that I don’t have to suffer through 3 months of boredom.”

She opened her mouth to say something else, but a cough from outside the door made her pause and look at me apologetically. “I’m sorry Steph, I have a few errands to run before we fly back to Jersey,” she said as she stood up and hugged me. I could do nothing but nod numbly as she apologized again, promised to visit before I was discharged and left.

The scent of lilacs and strawberries lingered in the room after she left though it was overpowered by the scent of aftershave and wood that drifted in from the door. A sharp pain in my hand caused me look down at the fist I didn’t remember making. Relaxing my fingers, I winced as I saw small cuts where my nails dug into my palm. Licking the small beads of blood that leaked out of the wounds, I tried my best not to think about my mother.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I complete missed my elongated fingernails slowly shifting back to normal.