Twenty-Three
Nina spent most of Tuesday crying, after looking at the photographs of her parents’ funeral service that her uncle had taken for her. She still couldn’t believe her parents were dead, and she was touched that Carl, who had hardly known her parents, had attended their funeral.
After ten days in the hospital, Nina was spending more of her day awake than asleep, and the swelling on her face had subsided. Now, when she checked her face in the hand mirror her aunt had left for her, she saw a washed-out version of the image she recalled from before the accident, instead of the heavily bruised monster Carl had captured on her iPhone.
Her body hurt in places she hadn’t imagined a body could hurt. Earlier in the day, the nurses had loaded her into a wheelchair and taken her to see a
