Not to Disturb Him
Copyright© 2026 by Heel
Chapter 7
The hospital lights were too bright, too clean for what they revealed.
Rita lay on the bed surrounded by machines that hummed softly, indifferent to meaning. Her body had been washed, examined, catalogued. Tubes and monitors traced lines across her stillness, measuring what could be measured. Her legs were covered, protected, treated as fragile objects—but they might as well have belonged to someone else.
Doctors came in pairs.
They asked questions she barely answered. They tested reflexes that did not respond. A blunt instrument brushed against her skin, then pressed harder. Rita stared at the ceiling and said nothing until they asked.
“Can you feel this?”
“No.”
They exchanged looks—brief, professiona.
Imaging followed. Long stretches of waiting, broken only by the movement of her bed and the quiet efficiency of hospital corridors. When the doctor returned, he did not sit immediately. That hesitation told her everything before he spoke.
“There is a severe spinal injury,” he said calmly. “The damage is in the lower back.”
He explained it carefully, using precise language. Compression. Fracture. Trauma consistent with crushing force. The spinal cord had been compromised. Surgery could stabilize what remained, prevent further damage—but it could not undo what had already been lost.
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