I try not to wince or let her know she’s hurting me, but I can’t help crying out when she yanks the cotton wool plugs from my nostrils. I breathe in through my nose for the first time in ages, but all I can smell is a faint tinge of disinfectant and the irony scent of dried blood. She drops the b...
She’s totally out of it, her breathing is shallow and erratic, and she hasn’t moved once since I arrived. I’m selfishly relieved that her face is once again swathed in tightly wrapped bandages, a small jagged hole ripped in the dressing so that she can breathe through her mouth. There’s no way I ...