29. I Fell

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A white light was the first thing I saw and next was the silhouette beside me. I blinked hard and slowly before I looked around.

An old TV hung in the corner and not long from it on its left side was a window. It exposed a few houses and trees together with a road. In the corner was a chair placed, which looked like it had been moved many times. It had a long tear on the left side and seemed older than some of the other things in the room. The walls was a simple cream color and dustless with a sent of chemicals. Over the door, a white clock hung and shined in the sun. There was no decoration or anything to make it warm and welcoming.

I looked to my sides and saw the machines. What?

I tried to sit up, but with no luck. "Argh." I sighed and leaned back again while listening to the creaking of the bed.

"You're awake." I looked to my right and saw Anthony standing from his chair and smiling down at me. "How are you feeling?"

What was the hell happening? I glanced around and reached up to touch my forehead. How did I end up here?

As my time awake rose and my memories slowly came flowing back, my eyes widened.

"How did I end up here?" I asked and looked back up at Anthony who had tilted his head.

"I brought you here when you literally collapsed in my arms." He said it all with a small smile on his face and with a relaxed expression. However, the bags under his eyes told me he had been up for hours and the weird hair indicated that he had been doing something.

"Was I heavy?"

"Huh?" He scratched his neck. "Heavy? Why would you ask about that when you know, you're laying in a freaking hospital?"

I fell silent and looked down at my hands. "Sorry."

"Why are you saying sorry again?" He laid his hand on the bed and leaned forward. "You need to stop that."

Though I listened to his words carefully, I could not make any reason out of them. Saying sorry was a polite thing to do; a normal thing to do. And just because he didn't want me to say it, didn't mean I needed to stop it.

His warm hand clamped down at my wrist and made me peek up at him. "Now, tell me how you are feeling."

I drew in a deep breath as his eyes cast a spell upon me.

My stomach still hurt and my head didn't feel well either, but otherwise, nothing felt odd. "I'm fine... just a bit pain, that's all."

He smiled a half smile and looked down at his hand on my wrist. "Who did this to you?" he asked and caught my eyes again.

I looked away. "No one. I fell."

"Again? I don't believe you." He tightened the grip on my wrist, but not enough so it hurt.

I sighed. "It's true."

"Then how could you be injured like that and be bleeding so much that it even spilled all over me? And what about the marks on your body? They didn't come from a fa-"

"Nina Watson?" A nurse came walking in, unknowingly sawing me from Anthony's questions.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm thrilled that you're awake and well." She walked up close. "So, can you tell me precisely how you are feeling." She found a pen and notebook from her pocket.

"My stomach hurts and my head is kind of spinning." She nodded her head and wrote down fast.

She looked up. "Anything else?"

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