Upheaval: Day 18

Word Count: 108,024

Summary of Events:

Leon found his mom in the cemetery, as he'd suspected; he told her that he'd won the contest and would be going to Russia, which prompted a foul reaction that he'd expected, although he did get knocked unconscious. When he woke up he found himself hospitalised with numerous fractures — few of which actually related to his mom's latest attack — where he was visited by Mr. Chekov and several other and informed they intended to take him to Russia as soon as he was released from hospital, which he didn't appreciate because he wanted more time to prepare himself for the departure.

Except of the Day:

Gazing at his face in the mirror, Leon felt like he was looking at a stranger.

Slowly greening bruises painted a swath across his cheek with clear-cut edges that told him the headstone he'd collided with had been at least as wide as the span of the first three knuckles on his hand, or, an estimated three inches.

Stitches ran in a generally straight line from the centre of his cheekbone — right where the flesh transitioned from being the tender, thin, eyelid flesh to the more substantial cheek flesh — all the way across the top of the bruise. About five or six stitches were at the bottom of his bruise right at the edge of his jaw.

The stitches that didn't make sense, however, were the stitches further up on his forehead that arced toward his bruise, following the line of his eyebrow somewhat.

Unless Mama had beat him up further once he'd been knocked out, he had no clue where they had come from. Everything else he knew the source of, and all of it had accompanying bruises: from the soft-edged green-yellow bruise on his left cheek to the large yellowing bruise on his shoulder, the brown bruise around his throat, even the bruises in all the shades from purple to brown on his ribcage and the yellow bruise on his foot which had a bit of a blue and purple spot in the centre of it.

A light knock sounded on the door.

"Artemi?" the nurse, Jillian, asked through the door.

"Yes?" Leon asked — although it was hard not to say it in Russian when he was being called Artemi, as few people who spoke English ever called him by his first name. They all knew him as Leon.

"It's lunchtime," she replied. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Leon replied.

"I'll come get your tray in a few minutes," she said.

Once she was gone Leon slipped out of the bathroom. He liked it better when he couldn't see his face because then he could imagine that he didn't have all the bruises and stitches, although the stitches were likely going to be coming out shortly before he was released.

They'd determined he wasn't concussed and that all of his fractures should heal quite well without casts so long as he didn't go playing hockey or football or something — and being as he wasn't interested in doing those, he'd be fine.

He was wearing a walking boot on his left foot, which was the one Mama had succeeded in breaking — and no surprise, being as she was right-dominant, thus it was easier for her to stomp forcefully on his left foot — but otherwise he looked perfectly fit.

Seating himself on his bed, Leon adjusted the table so it was in the right position. Although he didn't like the hospital food, it was food, and it was three square meals a day no less. He was probably eating more now than he had in the last couple months, even if he found it unpleasant to taste.