The Good Girl's Return

Ten

Dedicated to sociaIcxsuaIty

Unedited. Read at your own risk ;)

(Me 5 years later: that was me warning you about how I was apparently illiterate and couldn't put proper spacing, apostrophes, or - marks anywhere LOL) 

I woke to the sound of a continuing beeping.

Beep.

What the hell?

Beep.

I can't open my eyes.

Beep.

Am I in a hospital? I felt my heart beat quicken. I hate hospitals. They make me insanely claustrophobic.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

It picked up my heart.

"What's happening? Doctor! What's happening?!" Ryder yells out, and I hear a door open. I can't open my eyes. I can't move. I can hear. "What.. What's happening? Is she okay? What's wrong? Oh god, is she dying? Please tell me she isn't dying!" Ryder springs on the poor man/woman whoever just walked in.

"I don't really know, Sir. Please, calm down. All of her organs are fine... Vitals all good... I think she's either having a nightmare, or having sleep paralysis." He says. I start mentally doing the count thing Doctor Martins told me to do, and I calm down. When I calm down enough, my eyes snap open, and I take a deep breath.

"Oh god that was horrible."I croak. "I couldn't move for a minute there." I say. They both look up and Ryder rushes to my side. He grabs a cup with water from the counter and hands it to me. I take a few sips, clear my throat, and ask what I've been dying to. "So why am I here?" I ask, my voice a lot stronger now.

"Your here because you fainted, and hit your head on that violin on the way down, breaking it, and cutting your head open by a sharp piece. Stitches." Ryder tells me. "And I'm here because when I walked in to see you like that, surrounded by a little pool of blood, I just about had a heart attack." He says, with a sure voice. I laugh.

"I'm sorry. Really traumatic things like that.. I either pass out, or someone stays speaking to me and distracts me. Then, you know, somewhere down the line, I look for a real distraction. You know what I mean." I say, closing my eyes.

"And you've had to deal with traumatic experiences before?" Ryder asks, his voice sounding worried. I love that he's always worried about me. He hardly judges me, he's just looking out for me, trying to let me figure what's best.

"Yes. Yes I have." I say, not bothering to open my eyes, my voice shaking some. A warm hands grips mine, and I grip back as flashes of memories from the last two years to through my head. Pulling the trigger. The sex. Pointing the gun. Thrown into the back of cop cars. Andrew finding me when I'd run. Everything always goes back to him.

"Can you tell me one of them?" He asks, curiosity dripping, with a quiet, sweet, and sensitive tone.

"Uh.. Sure... Let me think.. Okay, so this happened about after two months of me being gone." I start. He nods his head. "We were up in NYC,"

"Why were you in New York City?" Ryder asks. I look over at him, and he looks shocked.

"Questions on which I shall not answer. Anyways, we were in the big Apple, and I bumped into this guy. He looked down at me, smiled and said he was sorry, then walked away. I shrugged and did so too. Then, later on, I walked into him again. The next day I walked into him again. The day after again. I didn't think anything of it, honestly, until the day after." I say, then he cuts me off.