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for being as patient with the nursing staff as she should.   The fact that Becca had been kind enough to say such things meant a great deal to her. 
    “Looks like I can leave you alone for an hour or so,” Becca said and glanced back at the IV bag.  “Or at least until the IV fluid gets low.”
    Before Becca could scoot out the door, a dietary worker entered, carrying a single tray she set on the table before Maddie.  Becca situated the table closer to the doctor and uncovered the tray as the worker slipped outside.  “Looks like you have dinner.”
    Glancing from the Salisbury steak to the baked potato, dinner roll, and green beans, Maddie turned from the food as a low ache throbbed in her broken arm.  “I’m not hungry.”
    Stepping back, Brecca frowned.  “You’ve been eating less than a bird, Maddie.”
    “How would you know?  Do you watch birds to see how much they eat?”  Maddie pushed the tray away, and lightly ran her fingers across the cast on her arm.
    “Are you in pain?”  Becca asked.
    Maddie winced.  “Yes, my arm.”
    Becca pointed at Maddie’s tray.  “Why don’t you try eating while I get you something for that pain?”  She stepped toward the door.  “Dr. Gordon ain’t exactly going to want to send you home unless you’re eating, Maddie.”
    “Whatever,” Maddie replied, and picked up what appeared to be the most innocuous part of the meal–the dinner roll.  Breaking small bites off of it, she slowly ate it and waited as Becca finally returned with two pills in a small paper cup.
    “Thanks,” Maddie said and took the pills, swallowing them with a long swig of water that tasted like minerals.  Although Brecca was scribbling notes in her chart, Maddie knew she was trying to see how much she ate so she could make a note of that, too.  How much she peed, how much she ate, how emotionally disturbed she was--all fodder for taking her apart.  More for show than the appetite she didn’t have, Maddie took a few bites of the meat and baked potato.  With each bite, she tried to ignore what might as well have been cardboard for all it mattered.
    Once Becca was convinced Maddie was eating, she closed the chart and headed out of the room.  “If you need something, just hit the  button.”
    Maddie nodded.  “Will do.”
    After Becca had left and closed the door behind her, Maddie pushed the tray away and looked out the window at the falling snow that had coated everything.  As she peered through the half-fogged pane, she realized just how cold she felt inside—how cold, and how desperately alone.
    Tears pricked her eyes, and she wanted them to go away, not to spill down her face in uncontrolled streams.  Always before, she’d been so sure of herself, but now she wasn’t sure of anything except fear.  And pity.  She saw it in everyone’s face, and Maddie wondered if she’d be able to work in this hospital after she recovered.  Could she actually look these people in the eye and ignore the fact they’d seen her like this?  She looked at the hospital gown draped across her thin figure, the cast shielding her arm, the bruises coloring her flesh.  She hadn’t even glimpsed her face since the attack.    She’d been too afraid.  Malcolm Gordon had put twenty-seven stitches across her temple.  She wasn’t sure she wanted to see what had needed to be stitched together, but putting it off wasn’t going to make it any less visible.
    Taking a deep breath, she slipped her legs over the side of the bed where the IV post stood sentry.  She slid to the floor, grabbed the post, and crept across the room, ignoring the slight shooting pains in her legs and stomach.  Her chest ached with each breath as a result of the fractured ribs.  Although she felt light-headed, she shuffled to the mirror and peered at her reflection.
    A sharp gasp escaped her as she saw the angry cut the stitches had closed on the side of her face–a scar that all the make-up in the world might not