I don’t feel like a superhero or even a sidekick, I just feel physically and emotionally drained. The pain in my chest where the shotgun blast hit on Sunday is constant. I can’t even do a simple chair transfer without Bling’s assistance. I can barely push my chair across the room. Each push sends searing pain across my chest and down my arms. My body is a wreck. I haven’t felt this dependent since Bling brought me home from the hospital ten months ago. I had forgotten how important the use of my arms was to me, but getting shot in the chest has certainly reminded me of that. They are my mobility and my freedom. Without them I am completely helpless.

When we left Cape Haven though, I was so pumped on adrenaline that I barely felt anything. Every single ounce of my energy was focussed on surviving. The signals my body was sending barely registered against the shock of just having killed four men. The ride home in the tow truck was a blur. I vaguely remember unloading the car and asking Bling to help Max settle in, before I fell exhausted into bed.

The intense throbbing in my head woke me up a few hours later. I was grateful that it was still dark outside. I couldn’t have handled light at that point. My whole body ached. I managed to roll onto my side and sit up when a wave of nausea washed over me. I sat there, holding my head in my hands, for what seemed like an eternity, trying to quell the urge to empty my stomach onto the floor. Eventually the wave subsided and I was able to breath more normally again. I desperately wanted to get the blood and grime from the previous night off me. My chair was right beside the bed so ignoring my aching body, I attempted to transfer into it. Instead I found myself doubled over from the intense, gut wrenching pain in my chest. My stomach emptied itself then and the heaving intensified the pain even more. I heard a low moan echoing in the room before a suffocating black cloak wrapped itself around me. Bling told me later that he heard my cry and came in and caught me just before I joined the contents of my stomach on the floor.

The oblivion was short lived though, as a persistent voice dragged me back into consciousness. "Logan, wake up." I was back on the bed lying on my side. There were pillows behind me preventing me from rolling onto my back. My brain was trying to comprehend how I got there. Then I managed to formulate a coherent thought. Must be Bling "Logan, wake up." It was Bling. His words drilled through my skull, increasing the throbbing in my head.

"What?" I asked wearily, trying to shield my eyes from the light coming from the bedside lamp. I didn’t remember turning that on. Bling didn’t make any move to turn it off though, he just stared at me cautiously and rattled off a list of questions.

"Can you tell me where you are?"

"Home. What time is it?"

"4:00 am. Can you tell me what just happened?"

"Passed out. How’s Max?"

"Good. She went home. Can you tell me where you were last night?"

"Cape Haven."

Bling kept asking me questions. When did we leave? What time did we get home? I dredged out the answers from the depths of my tortured brain. I couldn’t even think clearly enough to ask why he was interrogating me. The only thing that I could focus on was getting that light turned off. For the second time I somehow managed to push myself into a sitting position. Bad decision. Another wave of nausea flooded over me and the black cloak threatened to take over again.

"Still feeling nauseous?" Bling asked gently.

"Yeah" I answered closing my eyes and focusing on breathing. Eventually the waves settled down.

"Can you tell me what happened last night?" Bling asked still looking at me with concern.

"Had an encounter with some of the locals." I began, just as the smell of smoke, blood and vomit hit me with full force. I looked down and realized that I was still wearing the same shirt I had on at the cabin. I had stripped off the kevlar vest as I came through the bedroom door the night before, but I was so exhausted that I just fell into bed with the rest of my clothes still on. The vest had absorbed most of BC’s blood but the shirt hadn’t been spared. It was caked with dirt and blood and fresh vomit. I desperately needed to get it off me. I gritted my teeth and managed to pull it over my head despite the stabbing pain in my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my arms against my ribs trying to stop some of the pain. When I looked up Bling’s expression had changed from one of caution to shock.

"What is that?" His voice shook as he stared at me. I looked down then to see a massive bruise that had spread from my sternum to my shoulders.

"Shotgun blast, point blank range. Luckily I was wearing a kevlar vest at the time." I nodded towards the corner where I had dumped the vest, which only helped to reinforce the throbbing in my head, forcing me to shut my eyes again.

"Headache’s pretty bad." Bling stated, as he reached over and performed the merciful act of finally turning off the light. "Do you remember any details?"

"I was staring down the barrel of a shotgun, then the next thing I remember I was on my back on the floor." I answered staring straight ahead. As long as I didn’t move the headache seemed to subside to a dull ache.

"Any idea how long you were out?"

"Maybe a couple of minutes. It couldn’t have been longer." I didn’t bother to add ‘or else we would all have been dead’.

"Okay. Why don’t you lie down and get some rest?" Bling prompted.

"I really need to get cleaned up." I said reaching for my chair.

"I wouldn’t recommend that." Bling placed a hand on the chair stopping me.

"I’m not going to lie in blood and grime all night" I countered.

"Logan, if you haven’t figured it out already you’ve got a concussion." Bling had that don’t mess with me tone back in his voice. "And the way you are guarding your chest it’s obvious you have some very deep bruising, and possibly some torn muscles or cracked ribs as well."

"I still need to get cleaned up." I insisted.

"Okay. We’ll get you cleaned up, but you are officially forbidden from doing transfers on your own." In one fluid motion Bling transferred me into the chair triggering only about half the pain as when I had tried to do it myself. He had obviously not forgotten how to do transfers, even though it had been months since I needed that type of assistance. "I don’t have to tell you how important it is to maintain your upper body strength. You don’t want to develop a chronic injury because you weren’t willing to take a couple of days to heal properly."

As I pushed myself toward the bathroom my body painfully acknowledged just how right Bling was. My muscles burned with every push on the wheels of my chair. I could barely keep myself going in a straight line. It was obvious that there was no way I would have been able to do a transfer. I didn’t even bother to protest when Bling followed me right into the bathroom. I knew that he was concerned that I would lose consciousness again and there was absolutely no way he would leave me alone. Bling he helped me transfer to the shower chair, then waited silently while I stripped right down and rolled into the shower. I stayed under the steaming stream long after the last traces of blood and dirt had been washed down the drain, letting the rhythmic beating of the hot water work out some of the tension in my body. Thirty minutes later I finally toweled myself off. After a vigorous round with the toothbrush, both the headache and nausea had subsided significantly. I wheeled back into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of boxers, then with Bling’s assistance I transferred back onto the bed. The whole routine reminded me of those early days right after my injury. It took me weeks to earn the privilege of using the bathroom alone, there was just too much that could go wrong in there. No privacy. It had been just another fact in my miserable existence as a newly injured paraplegic. Still I had no idea at that moment, just how much like those early days this week would be.

"How’s the headache and nausea?" Bling asked a final time.

"Better." I answered truthfully.

"Good. It’s probably just a mild concussion. Though that fact that you’ve lost consciousness twice concerns me. Try to get some sleep. I’ll be back in an hour to check on you." Bling said quietly as he shut the door.

I rarely sleep on demand, but I was out before the door had been firmly shut. Regrettably that was the last truly deep sleep I have enjoyed. An hour later Bling was back waking me up. After three more wake ups in the next three hours I gave up trying sleep and asked Bling to help me out of bed. The first thing I did, after Bling helped me into the chair, was page Max. I wanted to know for myself that she was okay. It was such a relief hearing her voice on that phone a few minutes later. I elicited promise of dinner at 7:00 pm and reluctantly let her get back to work. Then I tried to do some work of my own, but I’ve never been so unfocussed in my life. After thirty minutes of frustration I slammed the laptop shut. I didn’t even bother to pull out my notebook. I knew I would have as much success writing as I did working. I spent the rest of my day staring out the window and counting the minutes until I could begin preparations for dinner.

At least I was still able to do that. Max stayed until midnight last night, we ate, we talked and we even discussed what happened back at the cabin. Max had been unconscious for most of it so I gave her a rundown. I was able to relax a bit for the few hours that she was here, even the pain in my chest seemed less intense. But after she left I couldn’t sleep. I nodded off at 3:00 am, but I woke up a few minutes later dreaming about shoving a knife into BC. So I went back to watching the clock again, waiting for Max to return for breakfast.

Max has left for work and Bling is heading out to run a few errands. I want to get out of this apartment too, but I know I won’t be able to keep up with Bling and I can’t see myself being pushed down the market aisles by him or anyone else. I don’t want to give up every last thread of my independence. Somehow, I have to find a way to face this day. I can’t spend another day or another sleepless night watching the clock. I don’t want to go back to that dark place where I was trapped ten days ago. Yet, I already feel myself sliding closer. What’s worse this time though, is I don’t even have a physical release, I can’t play basketball, I can’t work out, I can hardly move. I barely stayed alive the last time I felt like this. I can’t let that happen again.