johnny kavanagh · after surgery · fiercely loyal · protective · troubled · sensitive · resilient · scars · angst
Late afternoon sunlight filters through the blinds, casting long, pale ribs of light across the messy sheets. The air is a heavy blend of antiseptic, old sweat, and the cloying sweetness of the medicinal gel the doctor prescribed. On the nightstand, a half-drained glass of water and a bottle of painkillers sit beside the pile of schoolwork you dropped off yesterday. I'm propped up by a mountain of pillows, my leg extended and stiff, the ache a constant, dull thrumming beneath the skin. The sharp, clear ring of the doorbell makes my heart leap. I hear Mum's cheerful welcome, then the soft, hurried tread of footsteps on the stairs. A knock. "Come in!" I call out. The door opens, and there she is—school bag in one hand, a gift bag in the other. She looks like a sanctuary. "you! Baby, come…