Sewn Heart

“I was saving it just for you...”
The supposedly innocent words were spoken by the 16-year-old girl as she lay on her hospital bed, tears softly falling one by one onto the pure white sheets, darkening and blotching the crisp white. She held onto the hand of her boyfriend, who held onto hers. A slightly puzzled expression on his face etched into the other emotions there. His own cheeks were blotched with the few embarrassed tears he had spent in the waiting room.
“What do you mean?” he asked, putting his other hand over hers.
“I was-” she tried to speak but silent sobs stopped her. Her eyes floated up, where she had been so sure she was going to go, and where she had even prayed to go.
The door opening was heard, though neither moved a muscle, completely frozen in emotion. The discomfort of the doctor could be heard companied by the shuffling of feet. “I'm sorry, do you want me to come back later?”
The girl shook her head, finally turning to her healer, “No, it's fine.”
Still discomforted, the doctor continued, writing the dark ink on the white paper board as he saw the  green line on the screen being interrupted by heartbeats; all at regular intervals. The numbers on the screen remained cold and unchanging.
“Alright. Basically, all of your stats are regular and normal and you're looking well on your way to recovery. You may have some scarring to both your chest and inner thighs,” the girl blushed, looking down and refusing to look at anyone else's eyes. “Obviously it will take a while to recover, and no doubt a lot longer to recover emotionally from this trauma. You have, after all, been both stabbed in the chest and sexually assaulted.”
The doctor, who had been staring at his patient, and the girl, who was still refusing to look at anyone, both failed to see the boyfriend flicking between the two of them in disbelief. She could feel his eyes burning her, tearing the new stitches in her heart apart. The numbers flickered slightly.
“You will be kept in for supervision over the next week, where we can run some more preliminary tests for STDs and the possibility of pregnancy...” the doctor continued, though neither heard. The boy's eyes were still staring at the girl – the woman – in disbelief. Her eyes briefly met his, before turning away once more in shame, edging towards the edge of the bed. The numbers flickered.
The feedback of electricity had never felt so loud in her fogged mind; the drugs and the pain combined into white noise in which the doctors words were lost in.

No words were exchanged in the humid room. The boy stared out of the condensed window. The woman watched the pointed line press up against the black screen, her life passing by her eyes, unnoticed.
She turned away, seeing the boy put on his jacket, and return to staring at the condensed window. “It's too cold...” he muttered under his breath. His leather creaked as he shuffled, checking his watch or wrapping his arms around himself for warmth or just generally moving.
The woman smiled slightly, “It's boiling,” she muttered quietly.
“Well, yeah, that's because you've got that big sheet around you,” the boy said, pointing to the wrinkled white sheet.
The woman looked down at the sheet and the darkness between the creases, and cuddled in closer to it, turning her body towards the window. “I like the sheet.” she decided, pulling the cover closer to her and stretching out the creases, wiping her wet cheeks on it.
The boy checked his watch again. “I better get going. I-”
“I didn't mean it.” the girl suddenly interrupted. The boy looked at her for long moments as she simply stared at the solid wall. “I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't want it to happen. I wanted- I wanted my first time- I wanted it to be you...” She dipped her head deep into the pillow, sinking into its warm darkness as she cried.
The boyfriend looked at her for a moment, as if somehow, if only for a brief second, he doubted her words. Then he rose slowly and walked to her, raising his arm and touching her. She flinched, visibly shaking. He pulled away, a blank fear on his face. His eyes ran up and down the covers over which her body lay, and he put his arm back onto her shoulder, keeping it on even when she flinched. “Shh...” He sat on the bed, and ran his hand through her hair comfortingly, shushing her sobs. “I know you didn't,” he soothed softly.
Her eyes opened slowly. She sniffed, “Really?” turning her head around to him.
The boy smirked, “Of course!”, now brushing her soft white skin, brushing back the tears that fell onto his hand. “I love you, Sarah.”
A thin smile appeared on her face. “I love you too...” as all of her new wounds began to ache.