「 Hell On Wheels! 」Alastor x Reader (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter XX

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"Cyria, can I have another glass of water?" "Of course, ma'am."

  The same nurse from before poured me another glass of water, the water rushing from the pitcher and splashing into the glass. She gave me the glass and I drank from it, thanking her beforehand as I should.

  Multiple hours had passed since I had awoken from the confusing slumber. In the span of those hours, the nurse, whose name is Cyria, kept me company and chatted with me. Albeit she was cleaning up the room most of the time and obeying whatever I requested, she was rather tranquil to be around.

  I learned of her formerly being an intern in this hospital before getting a solid job here, being the receptionist in the front. How she was married to a wonderful woman and had two children with her.

  Frankly, I envied her a tad for that. I wasn't able to have children ever since I got into that car accident I was in as a teenager. Lord, and this was the same hospital I went.

  I glance around the room. Shit, this might even be the same room from before.

  As I begrudgingly finish eating the food I was given, I take a sip of the broth I barely touched. There was no flavor to it though the aroma was heavenly. Cyria seemed to have notice this and her aqua eyes lit up.

  "You finished! Mr. Northlake is going to be delighted!" I failed to mention I learned of how my husband was alive as well.

  The good thing about it is that he seems to be suffering from amnesia, what kind, I'm not all too sure of. But from what Cyria said, he lost all of his memories before the accident and doesn't even remember the accident itself.

  I'm not sure if you can consider attempted murder an accident but for now I'll take it, as selfish as it is.

  The only thing he does seem to remember is me. He knows basic things such as his name and his family, but the one thing that stood out was his memory of me. His wife.

  I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt. He cheated, but he doesn't even know he did. Does he? I don't know, I'm not in his shoes. Yet he remembered me.

  I'm not willing to sign myself up for that amount of hurt all over again. Maybe divorce would work. But that'd be suspicious, wouldn't it? We both got into an "accident" and his wife immediately divorces him after. That is signing up for investigation. Not that the case isn't already being investigated.

  Cyria tapped my shoulder, dragging me out of my trance of thoughts. I blink, looking at the nurse. She had a concerned expression. "You were daydreaming again, Mrs. Northlake."

  That last name. "Please, call me Miss (L/N), or even (Y/N) will suffice."

  Confusion flickered in her eyes. It'd probably be like that for me as well, if the wife of a multimillionaire CEO prefers to use her maiden name.

  "If I'm not wrong, (L/N) is your maiden name, correct??" She queried, still gazing at me with her curiosity. I nod to confirm her assumption.

  "Why would you wish to be called that by any chance?" Cyria asked further. This time I don't give her my answer and simply shake my head as to say it isn't something she should be aware of or should be told.

  Luckily, she took the hint and took the tray. I feel somewhat bad for keeping her in the dark like this, but I'd rather not get her involved. I still need to be informed about the investigation and information on the "accident" that manifested.

"I'll be leaving now. Excuse me, Miss (L/N)." The fact she didn't use my first name irked me a little, but not as much as Northlake did. That name was empty to me now, and even if he may have amnesia, it doesn't excuse what was already done.

The door closed to signify Cyria having taken her leave. My muscles relaxed, unfurling from the tension and I sink into the hospital bed.

Could it have been I dreamt it up? But their names and faces were so vivid, oh so vivid.

Charlie's silken, flaxen blonde hair and curious, wide eyes. Vaggie's maturity and placidity with her wild temper. Angel Dust's beef jerky face and spider anatomy. Alastor's prying eyes and bright red color palette.

Maybe I did. Murder takes a lot out of someone, and from what I was told, I did die but I was quickly resurrected after I was taken here. It could just possibly have been my brain acting up after getting a bullet headfirst, no pun intended.

So why do I keep getting a nagging feeling it wasn't a dream? All it's doing is giving me false hope. Right now I should be prioritizing how everything is going to turn out and preparing for the worst.

But right now, as I curl on my side and inhale the intoxicating smell of the hospital room and stale air freshener, I wanted nothing more than to dissipate into air and hear the call of the void.