Mysterious part 1

Mysterious part 1 intro

The rain-soaked streets of Montreal mirrored the storm brewing within me. I leaned on my crutches with the burden of a broken leg affecting my every step. I hated this leg cast. With each movement, pain shot through my body, a relentless reminder of my vulnerability. Crystal, my best friend, walked beside me, her vibrant purple hair standing out against my long blond hair.

OK Crystal was so much more than a friend. The older generation would call her a friend with benefits, she was a lesbian and I was bisexual. You do the math.

She had so much style and acted on fetishes when she felt like it. Professional business woman during the day, she loved to be on crutches with her left knee bent and tied in various ace bandages at night and sometime during the day. She was what they called an amputee pretender. When wearing a sleek skirt and blouse, it would accentuates my attraction to her strong leg and the partially exposed stump.

Today she was completing her ensemble with a knee-high stiletto-heeled boot. She was totally elegant and a touch of rebellion, daring people to ask how she lost her leg. One would say that her one knee-high heeled boot and crutches were a daring symbol of her determination to live her life the way she wanted too. I would say that she was perfect and totally yummy. I typed that while licking my lips, if you could see me facing my little Chromebook.

As we navigated on our crutches a lovely cobblestone street in the heart of Old Montreal, my mind replayed the events that had led me to this state. It all began with the murder of Doctor Bradley, my former doctor, lover and so much more. He helped create or at the very least bring forward one of my persona. The "femme fatale",  5 feet 10 inches with long blond hair, deep blue eyes, long legs and a well defined bust. I also used that sexy persona to keep the detectives chasing shadows, in the pursuit of the killer, of the serial rapist we called Doctor Bradley.

I took a deep breath, looking at my long red cast covering my whole leg. My brain played tricks on me, bringing forward the painful events that led to my broken leg. The memories danced before my eyes, a twisted ballet of passion, violence and broken bones. It felt like my brain was explaining it to me. I know it's weird.

It all began the night of Doctor Bradley's murder, I felt defiant just thinking about it.

I had lured him into a web of seduction, 10 years to the day from when he raped me. We were in a dangerous dance, but beneath the excitement of our illicit affair, since the doctor was a married man, there was darkness.

My fingers instinctively traced the top edge of my red cast covering my right leg, a physical reminder of the brutality that unfolded that fateful night.

During our intimate encounter, the doctor's true nature emerged. He was sadistic and had a hunger for power and control, so when I asked him if he remembered me from 10 years ago, I should have known what to expect. I became his prisoner, trapped in his twisted desires to break me again mentally and physically.

The memory of that moment came to the surface with fear. You never forget the fear.

In a desperate bid to escape, I kicked the doctor while I fought back. He was stronger and grabbed my right foot, twisting my leg in an impossible angle, then with a sharp tug broke my leg with a sickening cracking sound echoing through the air.

I winced, rubbing my broken leg, the memory of the pain resonating through my long leg cast.

But before I collapsed to the ground, I stood, tried to walk away and that futile move was when the second bone in my leg broke from being already cracked by the Doctor's strong hands. Even with a broken leg, I refused doctor Madley's dominance. I was prepared for all occasions but I needed to get to my small purse.

With every ounce of strength left, I crawled to my purse, sliding my broken leg along the floor. To his surprise and my happiness, I pulled out the gun from my purse and shot him between the eyes, leaving him lifeless on the cold floor.

I never passed out in the ambulance and at the hospital. After the last few hours, my broken leg weighed me down both physically and emotionally. It was a constant reminder of the events that had led me to this moment. I guessed looking at my leg that I had a badly fractured leg.

The nurse asked for my name in a gentle tone.

"I'm Isabelle Lemaire,"

As I lay on a gurney being transported through the emergency room, my broken leg causing waves of throbbing pain, I couldn't help but look around for the other patients. My attention was drawn to a young woman, approximately 18 years old. She had a pink cast on her lower left leg, she was wearing her cheerleader's uniform, and her crutches rested by her side. It appears to be a joyous moment for her since her boyfriend was kissing her with his hand rubbing her cast.

"I will be out of my cast today," She says, staring at my leg.

"I'm just starting the process.  I just broke my leg"

"Good luck" She said, grabbing her crutches and making her way to the cast room.

Once in the X-ray room, the radiology technician greeted me, and she guided me onto the examination table with a reassuring smile making sure I didn't put any weight on my right leg.

"Stay still, Isabelle," the beautiful technician instructed me, positioning the X-ray machine over my leg. I clenched my fists for no reason, as the machine captured images of my fractured limb.

As the X-rays were taken, I couldn't help but feel a shiver. How was I going to be a realtor on crutches with a leg in a cast or a boot? The X-ray probably captured details of my broken leg that took away the boot option since the technician quietly said

"Clean but bad break, but the doctor will explain" She said and moved me to the next step.

After the X-rays, I found myself in an examination room, waiting for the arrival of the doctor. Dr. Esposito, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a stethoscope draped around her neck, entered the room, offering a warm smile.

"Good afternoon, Isabelle. I'm Dr. Esposito," she introduced herself, extending a hand. I shook it, attempting to match her smile with my own but with no success.

Dr. Esposito reviewed my X-rays.

"I'm afraid that you have a clean fracture in your tibia and fibula," she explained, pointing to the X-rays displayed on the light-box.

"Your leg will be in a cast with no weight bearing at all on it for 6 weeks."

"Wow. But since it's a clean break I guess it will be short cast?"

"Good try Isabelle, I'm afraid not" She smiled.

Part 2 to come.
K