Chapter 8Elis managed two days, two whole days and nights, lying in bed, staring at the same four walls and ceiling before he finally snapped. Boredom didn’t cover the restlessness he suffered. The pain meds, always in ready supply, had slowed his mind enough to let him sleep, but these episodes were irregular and fitful. The doctor, a man in his early forties if Elis had to hazard a guess, came to see him both days. He had the gruff manner of a soldier and looked down at Elis through round spectacles and mostly spoke in tuts and grunts. Elis interpreted the grunts as approval because he usually shook his head when he tutted, which, though irritating, were thankfully not uttered often.
It turned out Elis had at least two mildly—though it didn’t feel very f*****g mild to Elis—fractured rib
