Abigail
"Holy shit, that hurts like a bitch!"
I was propped up in bed, bruises throbbing across my face and ribs as the doctor pressed lightly along my cheekbone.
Sunlight streamed through the parted curtains in my room. I had passed out yesterday, and when I woke this morning, it was to a doctor dressed in a white coat prodding and pressing at my wounds.
My boyfriend was right beside me the entire time, his large hand resting on my shoulder, thumb stroking gentle circles against my skin.
Every time the doctor touched a tender spot, Finnegan's jaw tightened, his emerald eyes darkening with concern.
"Does that hurt?" the doctor asked.
I winced. "That's a tricky question."
Finnegan's hand squeezed my shoulder. "Be honest, Abigail. Tell him exactly how it feels."
"It hurts like I poked myself in the eye with a piping hot curling iron," I bit out, sagging against Finn, suddenly feeling drained even though I had been awake for barely thirty minutes.
