After Bella's terrible accident, she's left with major, lasting injuries. As a result, Edward wants her to see a Physical Therapist. What new disasters will Bella get herself into this time?
This is gonna be several chapters long, so please keep checking back for updates. I might be slow though, so sorry in advance!
1. Being Home
Rating 5/5 Word Count 1235 Review this Chapter
I had been back from the hospital for a week and a half and everyone was already hounding me. Even time I took a breath, every time I moved a fraction of an inch. No one would leave me alone!
After getting out from the hospital, I had been confined to this wheelchair. I hated the thing, but Edward seemed to like the idea of it. In it, I was safe. From myself, maybe. But from the outside world, I was a constant victim. Everyone hovered to make sure I was ok, that I had taken my pain pills, that I wasn’t dying. And Alice took the time to hold me prisoner to go over wedding plans. Which I saw as completely futile, since I was stuck in this chair until I could walk again, which was indefinitely at this point, as far as I was concerned. Which was why I was in trouble now…
“For the last time, Edward, I refuse to go to a physical therapist. I’ve been through enough pain already, haven’t I?” I had been arguing this point for several days now. It hardly worked, he just ended up feeling guilty.
“Bella, this is my fault. But, don’t you want to walk again?” He didn’t wait for me to respond, since he knew that I wanted that desparetley. “Bella, my father knows a great doctor you can see. He’ll be very gentle with you. And I’ll be there. So you have nothing to worry about. Besides, I already made you an appointment for tomorrow. So you are going.”
I gaped at him. He went ahead and made a doctors appointment for me. Without my permission. How unfair was that? And yes, with my legs as badly damaged as they were, I wouldn’t be able to walk without the doctor. But I wasn’t ready yet. I wanted time to mope. And time to put off the wedding. And the pain. Pain was not good, and I was still on many pills to manage it.
Sometime during my mental ravings I must have started hyperventilating, as Edward suddenly put both hands on the sides of my face and turned me so that I was looking deep in his eyes. “Bella, you will be fine. I promise. I won’t let you get more hurt. I promise.”
I nodded my head. Of course I would trust him. And he always got his way. So I was stuck going along with his plan, and I was stuck being ok with it. Because he wanted this and promised I’d be ok. Why was I so pathetic sometimes?
I knew she was uncomfortable with the idea of going to the therapist for her injuries. But it was not negotiable. Which was why I took the liberty of scheduling an appointment for her as soon as she got out of the hospital. It just so happened that it would be the next morning. It was what was best for her. She just didn’t see it at this point. One day she would thank me. Hopefully.
After she calmed down from the initial shock, she went about her routine as usual. Or as well as she could. Now that she was in the wheelchair she couldn’t do everything she once did. Like go up or downstairs without being carried. Thankfully, Charlie didn’t mind me doing this when he knew I was in the house. So, all I needed to do before She began getting ready for bed was carry her up before I made my official exit, then double back in through the window. Nothing really out of the ordinary there, minus the carrying her part. She just had to alter her before bed habits, however. For example, she could brush her teeth and such, but she couldn’t take a shower without Alice’s help in the mornings. And dressing was a hassle for her. So, in the mornings Alice took care of that. As far as Charlie knew she just dealt with single nightgowns in the nighttime, since getting clothes off was easy for her. If Charlie knew that I was helping her get into her pajamas, he would have a fit. Not that we weren’t behaving. I made absolutely certain to be as gentlemanly as possible. A fact that drove her completely insane. And me, as well. But she was still human, something else that she didn’t like. I guess I was just failing her in general this week. Not that she cared. She just loved me all the more for it.
Bella had returned by now and was trying to extricate a particularly holey pair of sweats and tank top out of her dresser. “Love, let me help you. You can barely reach into that drawer as it is.”
“Thanks for reminding me. Love you too,” she glowered. She had been in such a bad mood as of late. I felt like everything I did was only irritating her. Of course, I couldn’t blame her. It was my fault she had been in the accident.
I pulled out the clothes that she had selected and moved to lift her out of her chair. She didn’t like this part, supposedly it hurt her to be shifted, even with my gentle movements. I could feel her nails trying to dig to my skin. If she wasn’t careful, she would break them right off. Just the fact that she was on the verge of that worried me. She shouldn’t feel pain like that. But she was being brave about it. She refused to whimper, and her breathing was very controlled. She was working so hard to be normal. And I had a sneaking suspicion that it was so I wouldn’t worry about her condition. No matter what she did, though, I would always worry.
I helped her as gently as I could into her pajama’s, and then helped her move so she was laying correctly at the head of the bed. As always, I was afraid to move to lay down next to her. But that was the one thing that she had to demand from me. She claimed that my cold skin helped her manage the pain while the pills where kicking in. So I eased myself into her bed next to her and took her, carefully, into my arms.
It wasn’t long before she was fast asleep. And once she had reached a deep enough sleep she started talking. She began with her usual comments about Forks, and she said my name a few times. At one point she even started complaining about Alice’s continued attempt to force wedding plans onto her. Some of her comments were quite colorful, which was a bit out of character for her. I vaguely wondered about where she had picked up such language, and figured it was probably from her mother’s side of the family. But then her ravings became much more serious. She started worrying a lot about why I was making her go to the physical therapist. She was afraid that I wouldn’t love her as much if she couldn’t walk again. She didn’t want to be more imperfect for me. As if she could be anymore perfect in my eyes? I couldn’t imagine how I would be able to make her understand that this was about her, not me. I truly would spend an eternity trying to get her to understand how much I honestly loved her.