Sexual Stalker

Chapter 20

(Blame the title of this chapter on How I Met Your Mother… it’s the episode with all the miracles.)

Chapter 20

Miracles

Avan POV

Loud, head banging beeps fill my ears, over and over again, repeating the irritating sound. I want to lash out and smash up whatever is making the noise but my body isn’t cooperating one little bit.

My stomach feels like it’s burning from the inside out; my arms are like lead, and my throat is so dry, I could light a fire up in there!

I feel like I’ve been through a week of hard ass training which ended with a gruelling combat. I want to hide and fill up on codeine and vodka!

BEEP BEEP BEEP

For fuck sake! Seriously!

“Shut the fuck up!” I grumble, my throat roaring in pain; I cringe and hiss.

“Mr Collier, welcome back. Can you open your eyes?” A soft female voice sounds in my ears.

Gently, I try to open my eyes to a bright white room with sharp lightening hitting my eyes, “oww!”

I hear a quiet click, and the lights dim, making it easier to see.

Slowly my eyes adjust to the light, and I look over to see a nurse in a light blue dress standing beside my bed, fiddling with something on a metal IV stand.

“How are you feeling Mr Collier?” She asks, with a smile.

“Okay, I guess…” I mumble, “Can I have some water?”

“Of course,” she replies, “I’ll fetch the doctor.”

After adjusting the bed and helping me prop myself up on the pillows, she leaves the room.

Sitting there quietly, I survey the room; a simple white sterile hospital room, a brown leather arm chair in the corner beside the bed, and an open door to an en suite bathroom to the left of my bed.

What was I doing here?

What happened to me?

Everything is hazy; I remember blood, and the smell of urine and vomit, but nothing else seems to enter my brain.

Why have I forgotten everything?

The door opens and in walks a tall, white haired man in a suit and a white doctor’s coat, holding a silver metal clipboard.

“Mr Collier, I’m Dr Gellar. Can I examine you, and ask you some questions?”

I nod silently, taking in his professionalism and calm persona.

“Right, how are you feeling first of all?” He asks, making me feel at ease.

“I’m alright… my stomach is hurting a bit, but my throat feels worse. The nurse said she would get me-“

The door opens, and the nurse from earlier enters with a jug of water and a white plastic cup; after pouring some, she passes me the cup and leaves the room.

I down the contents, and pour another.

“How about now?” Dr Gellar asks with a humoured smile.

I chuckle, “better.”

“Good… now do you remember what happened?”

My humour disappears, “Everything is hazy. I remember, err… blood? A lot of blood…” I rack my brains, trying to fit together the puzzle of the last moments I had before being here.