Jamie Brodie 01 - Cited to Death

tomorrow. You're staying home, right?"
    I gave him a thumbs up.
    "All right." He turned to Pete. "Call me if you need me."
    "Right." Pete watched Kevin get in his car, then locked the door and turned back to me. "One pain pill, coming up."
    Since I hadn't gone to the ER, I didn't have a prescription for anything. Fortunately, Pete had some leftover oxycodone from when he'd had his wisdom teeth out several months ago. He brought me one and a glass of water with a straw, and I managed to get it down. Pete took a critical look at me, surveying the damage more dispassionately. "How'd you manage not to get blood on your jacket?"
    "Dunno."
    "Well, that was good. I'll try to get the blood out of your shirt, but it may be history."
    "'S okay."
    "Can you sit up? I'll get this off of you."
    I sat up and scooted forward a bit, and Pete gently unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it back off my shoulders. He tossed it to the floor, turned back to me and gasped.
    "Whuh?"
    He was looking at my arms. "You've got bruises coming up where the guy gripped your arms to hold you."
    I looked down, but I couldn't see anything. My face was getting so swollen it was hard to see at all. I pointed at my shirt, which Pete had tossed on the floor. "My only dress shird."
    "Well, you won't be going anywhere for a couple of days. And you can go back to work in polo shirts. No one will care."
    My face and head were starting to hurt. "Need more ice."
    "Right." Pete put the bags of peas back in the freezer and came back with two bags of corn. I laid back on the sofa so that I didn't have to hold the ice. Pete arranged the bags over the dish towels. "How's that?"
    "Mmm hmm."
    "Okay. I'm going to put your shirt to soak." He went off for a few minutes. The oxycodone was starting to kick in a little. My head was throbbing a bit less than it had been. The ice was numbing my face. I probably could have fallen asleep right there, but Pete came back and patted me on the leg. "You've still got a lot of blood on you, down your neck and under your collar area, some down onto your chest. And in your hair. We need to get you cleaned up."
    "'Kay."
    "That ice has been on for ten minutes. Ten more minutes, and we'll get you into the shower. That'll be the easiest way to approach it."
    "'Kay."
    He went off to do something else. I just laid there. My head was too fuzzy to think about anything. After a while, I couldn't tell how long, Pete came back.
    "Okay. The corn is melted. Do you think you can sit up?"
    I took the bags of corn from my face and handed them to him. He took them back to the freezer, and I tried to sit up. I didn't get very far. Pete came back and slid his arm around my ribs, helping to lift me to a seated position. I grunted. My ribs and abs were getting sorer.
    "Okay?" Pete rubbed my back a little.
    "Mmm hmm." I didn't want to do or say anything that would slow my progress in getting into bed.
    "Okay. Let's get your t-shirt off. I think we might as well scrap this, right? You've got more of these."
    "I's bluddy?"
    "Oh yeah. It's bloody." He started lifting it from the bottom and eased my arms out of it, then lifted it over my head and showed it to me. The white t-shirt was now striped brownish-red at the top and halfway down the chest. "Ugh. Doss id."
    Pete tossed it across the room, then knelt down and took off my shoes. "Okay. Can you stand up?"
    "Mmm hmm. You help."
    "Oh yeah." Pete stood up, gripped my arms just above my elbows, and lifted as I stood. I got to my feet and swayed. The oxycodone was starting to do its thing.
    "Okay, good. Just stand here for a second." Pete looked at my chest and abdomen. "Oh, honey. You're bruised all over. He punched you in the ribs and belly?"
    "Mmm hmm."
    Pete growled. "Son of a bitch." He wrapped his arms around me and held me for a minute, standing there. "We'll get them, babe. We'll get them."
    "Mmm hmm."
    He stepped back from me, still holding my shoulders. "Think you can walk upstairs?"
    "Mmm hmm. Godda."
    He smiled. "Okay, tough guy. Let's go, then." He slid his left arm around my waist and we started walking slowly. I managed to get to the stairs, but by the time I got there I was groaning out loud.
    "I know, honey. Let's get you undressed, and we can get in the shower."
    Pete gripped my belt on either side of my hips and half-pushed, half-dragged me up the stairs. We got to the master bedroom, and he propped me against the wall for a minute to get positioned, then maneuvered me in and set me down on the