DEBORAH'S POV
The fluorescent lights above my hospital bed buzzed like angry wasps. I pressed the call button for the third time in ten minutes, my patience wearing thin as the machines around me beeped their endless rhythm.
"Yes, Mrs. Rossi?" The nurse appeared in the doorway, her expression already weary.
"I need to speak with my doctor. I want to be discharged today."
She glanced at my chart, then back at me with that practiced look of concern. "Mrs. Rossi, you suffered significant trauma. The doctor wants to keep you for observation for at least another day or two."
"I don't care what the doctor wants." I sat up straighter, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through my ribs. "I'm checking myself out."
"I really don't think that's wise. You have a concussion, and your internal injuries—"
"Get me the doctor. Now."
