Page 103
Story: Broken Bridges
Rodney silenced the extras and crew.
Frank pointed his finger at me again. “Action. Rolling.”
Shit. I refused to risk being hurt. But I could do this. It wasn’t far.
Setting grit into my veins, I took off. In a walk-a-step, run-a-step awkward stride, I headed toward the girls. Pain shot up my leg, stabbed deep inside my ankle, and speared my knee. I slammed into Fiona, knocking her forward onto the table. Shit, that was hard. I went to say sorry, but as I turned, my ankle rolled. Snap. I screamed. “Argh! Fuck!”
Tripping, I stumbled and fell. My elbow hit the edge of a table, then connected with the concrete sidewalk. Rolling onto my side, I clutched at my foot and cried, “Fuck. Oh fuck.”
People leaped from chairs and scurried to my side. Strangers’ faces loomed overhead.
“Oh my God. Tia?” Sutton shoved through the sea of people. “Are you okay?”
Tears trickled from my eyes. My chin trembled. I winced and shook my head.
“Get the medic,” Sutton shouted. “Tia’s hurt.”
“Fuck. This is not what I needed today.” Frank cursed and ordered a crew member to fetch the onset medic. “It’s just a fall, Tia. You’ll be fine.”
“No.” The pain in my knee throbbed as much as my ankle. “I need to go to the hospital. I think it’s broken.” Shit. Shit. SHIT!
Everyone cleared the sidewalk of tables and chairs. Two young gentlemen scooped me up and carried me to my trailer. Frank and the girls followed. Seconds later, Jen, the medic, arrived. As I stretched out on the sofa, she eased off my shoe and grimaced at my scars. “You’ve been hurt before?”
“Uh-huh.” I clenched my teeth as she brushed and pressed her fingers over my skin and bones.
“It’s hard to tell if it’s broken without an x-ray. How long ago was your original injury?”
“Injury? What the fuck?” Frank hissed as he paced in front of the trailer’s kitchenette.
“It’s nothing.” I shuddered. My ankle was already swollen and turning black. “Just an old break from last year.”
Jen glanced at my scars then raised a you-can’t-fool-me eyebrow. “That’s no normal fracture. I think it best to call an ambulance and get you to the hospital. Until then, we’ll keep your ankle iced, and I can provide you with some pain relief.”
“Oh yeah, bring on that shit.” I nodded. “Give me the hardest stuff you’ve got.”
Twenty minutes later, the ambulance arrived. I changed into my own clothes, grabbed my purse, was put on a gurney, and rolled toward the vehicle. It was overkill for a busted ankle, but at least it wasn’t as horrific as the last time I’d been carted off a film set.
Hovering beside me, Sutton squeezed my hand. “You want me to come with you?”
“No.” I patted her arm. “I could be hours. I’ll give you and the guys an update after I’ve had an x-ray.” No need for them to be bored out of their brains while waiting at the hospital.
“Okay.” She stroked my hair, sweeping the strands off my face. “Love you.”
“Love you too. Sorry I’ve messed up a day of filming.”
“Don’t be silly. We’ll be fine.”
At least they would be. Me? I wasn’t so sure.
As I was driven to the hospital, new tears fell. The ice pack wrapped around my ankle was heavy and uncomfortable. The chill made every bone in my lower leg ache and throb. You idiot. I shouldn’t have run. I shouldn’t have pushed myself beyond my limits. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
I’d grown to believe I’d be okay—Lewis had spent the past few months convincing me I was okay. That I could do new, but limited, activities. Yet here I was, back at square one. Injured. Broken. Fucked up. I shouldn’t have listened to him...or Frank. The drugs eased the pain in my leg but not my head.
After a lot of sitting around and having x-rays done, I lay in the emergency bay bed, waiting for the results. The one person I wanted by my side wasn’t anywhere in sight. I was over this shit. Over acting. Lying. Being a mess. Fuck. I flicked the tears off my cheek, grabbed my cell phone out of my purse, and texted Lewis...and Cole:
hurt ankle on set.
at hospital for x-ray.
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