Secrets, Lies and Dragonflies

Chapter 51

"Mackenzie! Oh, please.... wake up... Mackenzie..."

The throbbing against my temple. The shooting pain attacking my arm. The shouting. "I'm awake. I'm awake," I say, hoping to end the cycle of abuse to my sensory system.  

"Oh, thank God," Aunt Amy says. I peel my eyes open and find hers crazed and staring back at me. She's cradling my head. I'm not in my bed.  "Can you hear me? Don't move."

"What's going on?" Spencer asks, his voice groggy. I turn my head in his direction and the light from the hallway illuminates the mess on my floor. The bedside table lays on its side. My lamp is smashed. My mother's picture frame shattered.  He steps into the room. "Oh my Gosh! What happened?"

"Spencer, sweetheart, go get me a damp washcloth. Quick as you can," Aunt Amy says. He bolts out of the room. "Oh brother, it's been years since I took that First Aid class. I think I'm supposed to get a back brace or something. You could be paralyzed."

"I'm not paralyzed. At least I don't think I am." I successfully move my legs. "But my head," I go to rub my temple, but she blocks my attempt.

"Well, that's good you can move your hand. I think that means you aren't paralyzed."

"What happened?" I ask.

"All I heard was you screaming that dog's name, Zacchaeus. Then there was a loud commotion and a thud. You cut yourself pretty good against something. I'm guessing the night stand is the culprit."

Spencer's expression when he returns with the washcloth is enough to make me ignore the pain. "I'm good. Just need to sit up."

"Oh no you don't, young lady." Aunt Amy blots my head with the wet rag. "This gash looks pretty nasty. You may need stitches. And maybe even some kind of medical scan. Head injuries are serious."

There's no way that's happening. I'm not going to put either one of them through another ordeal like what we just went through.  "No, please no. I feel a little woozy is all. My arm is killing me more than anything. All I want to do is get back into bed."

"Stay put at least until I can get some gauze on this and see if I can stop the bleeding." She sends Spencer on multiple supply missions, a tactic to keep him distracted I'm sure. She insists I lay still on the floor until she can bandage the wound.

Spencer returns from trip number four with an ice pack and hands it to Aunt Amy. "Is she going to be okay?"

"Yes.  I think she's going to be fine, honey. We just need to stock up on bubble wrap for your sister." When she's satisfied I'm not suffering from a traumatic brain injury, she helps me to my feet. Between the destroyed contents of my bedside table strewn everywhere and all the blood, the floor looks like a crime scene. She tucks me back into bed and swipes my hair behind my ear. "I don't know. If it doesn't heal right, you may end up with a nasty scar."

"Then I better start thinking of a cooler origin story than being attacked by my night stand," I say, hoping to get a smile out of Spencer.  He's not having it.  

"I'll be right back with your pain medicine.  And a chair.  I'm keeping an eye on you till I know you're alright."  She squeezes my good hand and pats Spencer's shoulder when she swishes by him.    

Spencer's staring at the mess on my floor.  "Do you think mom would've liked Zacheaous, too?"  he asks, lifting her photo from the debris.

"I don't  know.  Maybe," I say, watching his face fall.  "I mean, why wouldn't she? If she thought you really liked him, I'm sure she'd be all into him."

He nods.  "Yeah." 

"Wait.  When you say 'too,' you couldn't possibly think that I like that big, ugly mutt."  I crunch my nose.