Bound in Stillness
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 1: The Fall
The morning had started ordinary enough: a slick pavement, the smell of wet leaves, her phone buzzing in her pocket with small reminders. She had not even been thinking about her steps, only about the emails waiting when she reached home. Then a single patch of rain-dark moss on the stairway tilted the world out from under her.
The fall lasted no longer than a heartbeat but it filled an eternity of sound — the slap of her coat against the steps, the crunch of bone, the involuntary cry that startled even her. Pain flared white, too clean to be believed at first. When she tried to move her leg, it refused; the knee felt foreign, a hinge suddenly fused.
By the time the ambulance doors closed, her thoughts were already fogged with shock. The medic’s voice was calm, steady, saying things like “stable,” “clean fracture,” “you did the right thing staying still.” She clung to those phrases as if they were ropes.
In the hospital, everything smelled of antiseptic and metal. The fluorescent lights made the world a little too sharp. She lay on the narrow bed while a nurse cut away her damp trousers and murmured an apology that barely reached her through the haze. The X-ray machine clicked; an image of her bones appeared like an accusation.
“It’s a simple break,” the doctor said, studying the screen. His tone was precise, practiced. “We’ll immobilize it straight. That gives the best chance of a clean recovery.”
The word straight struck her oddly, as though he were talking about something moral instead of anatomical. She wanted to ask how long, what it would feel like, but the words stayed behind her teeth.
A nurse rolled in a tray of supplies: white rolls of padding, scissors, a basin of water. The air filled with the chalky tang of plaster.
“Lie back, please,” the doctor said. His hands were confident, efficient. He slid a soft cotton sleeve—the stockinette—over her foot and up the leg. It was cool, whisper-thin, and she flinched at its touch.
Next came the padding, a pale cloud that he wound from ankle to thigh. His fingers pressed and smoothed, shaping it to the outline of her bones. “We need to protect the pressure points,” he said, almost to himself. “Behind the knee, around the ankle.”
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