Second Chances
The sharp pain from my hip slices through my body and I cry out.
“Shit, shit, shit! I’m so sorry. I got carried away. I forgot. Shit! Are you okay?” he asks, his voice full of worry.
I grit my teeth against the pain and nod my head yes. Masuzyo hated tears. He said they were for the weak. Pain makes you stronger, according to my ex-mate.
As I stand there, trying to catch my breath, he gets on his knees in front of me, sniffing the wound on my thigh, before moving across my stomach to my other hip, the one that had been dislocated.