I Do, Don't I?

Chapter Three

Jude has left for work.  Giant Carrier, America's largest company that builds developments nationwide.  Okay, I'll keep that in mind.  My parents have gone out for lunch and Jessica obviously doesn't like the company of my presence so she fished out a rectangular thing that flashes light and has tiny buttons on it--wait.  Cellphone!  That's the word.  Right--and called her friends to meet up at Macy's which I learned was a shopping mall and this time, she didn't roll her eyes which I found it odd.

     I'm left here all alone reclining on my bed, listening to the constant murmur of the air-conditioning unit.  Trying my hardest to remember the accident gave me a headache.  I glanced idly out the window on my far right but there was no view to see since the curtain was only halfway open.  The sound of the doorknob crunching open made my head swivel to its direction and waited for the visitor to appear.

     I waited...

     And waited...

     And waited...

     Suddenly, a flash of paranoia hit me.  What happened to me must've not been an accident but a chase and they threw my body and crashed my car some place close by to make it look like a tragic accident and now they must have heard about my survival and they're about to come in to my room and put an end to my life.

     "Who's there?" I called out anxiously.

     There was no answer except for the gentle closing of the door, a sign that the intruder has already entered or decided to leave and wait until I'm fast asleep.  A moment later, a gorgeous-looking guy with an athletic built walked towards me.  He  has sandy blonde hair that he probably got from soaking under the sun but instead of dark, tan skin, he possessed a color somewhere in between ivory white and a perfect tan.  He wore a gray t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

     My, my, my, I have one hot killer.

     "How are you?" he asked, his expression was unreadable.

     "I'm fine," I hesitantly answered.  "Are you my assassin?"

     His poker face broke into a frown then, he guffawed.

     I stared at him with an unchanging expression and waited until he stopped laughing.

     "Me.  A killer.  Seriously," he said with a trace that he has just gotten out of the laughing zone.  "What were you thinking?" he said, shaking his head unbelievably.

     I blinked and looked away then, returned to his gaze.

     He swallowed, beginning to turn serious with the faintest trace of a smile.  "But, ah, no.  I'm not your assassin."  Then, he frowned a bit, looking perturbed as he slips a hand in his pocket.  "And I don't think there's anyone trying to kill you."

     "So, you do know what happened to me," I guessed with eagerness.

     He paused as though to think whether to answer it or not.  It was a long moment of silence before he answered, "No."

     I felt crestfallen.  "Oh."

     "So, uh, I wish you get well soon," he said, disconsolation shadowed his handsome features before turning and finally, leaving.

     "Wait!  You forgot to tell me what your name was!" I called after him but he was gone.

     I slumped back to my bed and closed my eyes, trying to clear out my mind from the stranger who invaded my room.

     A nurse of my age came in with a tray of porridge with bacon bits sprinkled on top and a BP apparatus.  "Good morning Rachel," she said with a warm smile as she settled the tray on the bedside table.  "How are you feeling?"