Flight attendant part 2

I leapt out of the window in desperation and fear of what the alternative would bring. But the impact with the ground delivered excruciating pain that shot up my leg. The pavement was cold and waves of agony radiated from my foot, leaving me gasping for breath.

"Miss, run!" the stranger's voice urged. He reminded me of my coach back when I was 16, encouraging me to get up, walk it out...Even if we found out later that day that my foot was broken in 2 places coach Jones.

"I can't... my foot... I think it's broken," I managed to gasp between ragged breaths. The pain was relentless, making even the thought of movement a daunting challenge. I role played last year with my ex-girlfriend scenes of bondage and torture but my broken foot was an instrument of torture like nothing we did.

Left alone in the dim alley, a sense of isolation enveloped me. The stranger who had momentarily been my lifeline had disappeared into the night, likely fleeing Marco's rage. However, there was another pressing concern, I needed to locate my glasses. Without them, I was virtually blind and very vulnerable.

With cautious steps, I reached out around me, my fingertips trembling as they grazed over the uneven surface beneath. A rush of relief flooded over me as my fingers brushed against the cool surface of my glasses. I carefully lifted them to my face and secured them over my eyes.

With my glasses perched back on my nose, the world around me snapped into focus, revealing the true nature of the alley's menacing atmosphere. My gaze dropped to my throbbing foot, the pain now visible, swelling had already set in, turning my left foot and leg totally useless.

"You can do it Jewel "I told myself.

I attempted to rise, to put distance between me and the nightmare I was desperate to escape. But with each excruciating step, my foot rebelled against me, the pain a relentless reminder that it was indeed broken.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself into a limping, hopping rhythm, each step a fight between pain and my determination to flee. With my very slow progression, the scary darkness of the night seemed even more hostile.

Each step I took, fuelled by adrenaline only, was increasing the damage to my already fractured limb. The pain intensified with every movement and my actions were going to prolong my recovery. Even if I loved sexual bondage, being bound to a cast and crutches longer, was not a pleasure of mine physically or sexually.

I hated crutches.

A wave of fear as I considered the possible consequences. The fact that I'm diabetic added an additional layer of concern. Diabetes could complicate the healing process, extending the time I would spend immobilized in non weight bearing cast while reliant on crutches or even worse, amputation if infection settles in.

Marco's voice cut through the night, "Jewel...where are you" a chilling reminder that he was still close. Panic was pushing to force my fractured foot to obey. I had to escape or face rape and possibly death.

I pushed my body to its limits until I stumbled. I felt unable to stand but I continued to press forward, crawling a few more feet. Tears mixed with the sweat on my face.

His voice echoed again in the distance, his anger palpable but hope came in the shape of a young woman, her face etched with concern, and rode towards me on a Vespa. The vibrant red motorbike zipped to a stop, its engine purring like a cat.

"Signorina, tutto bene? Miss are you OK?" she repeated in English, her voice laced with genuine worry.

Pain and shock seized my voice, rendering me momentarily speechless. Little did I know at that moment that the name of this beautiful young woman was Maria. She had sprung into action like my super hero.

"Quick, let me help you onto the back of my Vespa. We need to get out of here, it's really not safe Miss, and you need to be careful not to stand on your broken foot," Maria instructed me, her nursing student instincts kicking in.

With her help I managed to hop to the back of the Vespa. I wrapped my arms around her, holding tight. The jolts and bumps of the ride intensified the pain in my fractured foot. As we sped away from my nightmare, the wind on my face felt like a balm. Maria navigated the narrow streets with skill on her Vespa. My focus remained on the road ahead, half-expecting Marco to materialize on every corner, his presence a shadow that refused to dissipate.

During the ride, Maria's voice broke through the haze of pain and fear. "My apartment is close. We'll take you there, and I'll do my best with your broken foot Miss."

I managed a weak nod and said "Thank you. Maybe it's just bruise"

"Oh no Miss it's broken"

Within 30 minutes, we arrived at Maria's apartment. Gingerly easing myself off the Vespa, I made sure not to put any weight on my broken foot. Leaning on Maria for support, I hopped awkwardly towards her apartment. The rhythm was slow and painful.

Maria's strong presence helped me navigate her apartment and she helped me sit on the couch. Her concern remained evident in her face. I watched as she meticulously assessed my foot, her fingers moving with a gentle precision..

"What do you think doctor Maria, just a bruise?" I asked, smiling at her.

"It feels and looks like you might have broken two metatarsal bones. You need an X-ray to determine the extent of the damage."

The simple hope for a bruise or stress fracture was dashed, replaced by the possibility of a more complex injury that in my situation met months casted and on crutches.

"What's our next step?" I inquired, my voice nervous and concerned.

"We need to go to my hospital where I intern," Maria stated firmly.

As reluctant as I was to face the hospital, Maria's conviction was a reassurance that couldn't be ignored. Arriving at the hospital, her knowledge proved invaluable. After the X'ray the doctor took away any hopes I had left,

"Your metatarsal bones are indeed broken. We will apply a cast to your lower leg to stabilize them as they heal and you will need to use crutches."

How long will I be confined to a cast? How would I manage my daily life? When I was 16 and broke the same foot, because of my diabetes the healing process took longer and I was in various casts and crutches for a total of 12 weeks.

The doctor turned his attention to Maria, a smile in his eyes.

Part 3 to come
K