The Janes by Louisa Luna

Author:Louisa Luna
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2020-01-20T16:00:00+00:00

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Vega pressed a square of toilet tissue over the top of her hand and removed the IV needle, let it dangle next to the stand. She washed her hands in the sink next to the bathroom with a lot of foaming soap and then sat on the bed. She removed her socks and let them fall to the floor. She lifted up the side of her gown and pressed the skin around the bandage that covered her wound. The lidocaine had worn off, which was what she had expected but still hoped against.

If only there were one, not two out there, she would have been more confident. But not two. And not just two, but also armed and trained. Not sloppy under the haze of drugs or drink. Play the damn cards, she thought.

She peeled off the bandage, strands of the medical tape sticking and fraying on her skin. She dropped the gauze to the ground, next to her socks. Her skin surrounding the injury felt wet, the incision itself still throbbing. Davis had cut as deep as he could in that one swipe, probably had a lot of practice. Vega flicked her finger against the end of the nylon black string stitched so thoroughly by the redheaded doctor.

Vega wiggled her toes and thought the thing she always thought when she knew pain was coming: This is not your body.

She took a breath in, gripped the ends of the string as firmly as she could, and pulled. She managed to loosen the first knot and stitch, and the whole top half of her body convulsed with the pain. She bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from screaming. Band-Aid, she thought. Rip it off.

She kept pulling, using both hands, the string unraveling, popping out of her skin, blood dripping in big steady drops onto the white floor. Breathe, she told herself, and she began gulping air in shallow breaths, blowing it out with her lips pursed in a diamond like she was about to whistle.

Similar to other times she’d been injured, the pain reached a certain level and then didn’t surpass it. Once she realized that, the task and what followed became easier. She wound the black thread around two fingers and yanked one last time to pull out the final knot and stitch.

She gasped and chuffed through her nose like a horse but kept breathing and shook the thread off her fingers, now coated with blood. Then she leaned to her right, the side where the wound was, and let the blood continue to drip onto the floor in a steadily expanding puddle.

She moved to the floor then and thought about her position. On her side, she decided. She hovered over the puddle, made sure the blood coated her hands and at least one side of her gown. It was wet and cool, and she shivered for a moment but told herself, You’ve had a pint of blood and a pint of saline and you’re fine.

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