Page 33 of The Wrong Guy

I’m between passed out and awake when I feel something powerful pulling me out of sleep. It is a hard pull- something I don’t necessarily want now. Sleep is peaceful. Sleep allows me to be calm and will enable me to be in control of my emotions.

Because even as I’m trying to cling to sleep, I still want to scream. I still want to cry. Derek broke into my house and did something terrible. I would say that I’m in pain, but I’m feeling very medicated.

Even in sleep, I still remember what happened. I still remember Derek trying to kill me, and I still remember why he wanted to kill me. Why did he try to pour bleach on me? He attempted to bleach me to rid me of being touched by another man.

Even in my sleep, I can still hear Derek’s screams about how I’m tainted. Never mind, he had slept with many women before me and probably during our relationship. It doesn’t matter he cheated on me. What matters to Derek is that I remain pure to him.

My mind’s eye begins to filter between images of the horrific fire and then also the fire Stavros ignites in me. It is a horriblemove for me to be focused on someone who doesn’t want that kind of relationship with me while I’m hooked up to what I can only assume are machines.

The beeping and now the magic is officially pulling me out of sleep. I blink my eyes a couple of times to help ease the onslaught of the harsh light.

“Dr. McDonald! She’s waking up!”

The screeching of another person in the room has me wincing. I can’t handle the pain from my injuries, and this throbbing headache isn’t helping, either.

I can feel the fluttering from someone entering the room, and then I’m being poked. Prodded. Then, finally, a light is flashed into my eyes. I’m blinking, trying to gain some semblance of consciousness.

“Mrs. Bancroft, we are so happy you’re okay,” a female says with sweetness dripping from her words.

I’m taken aback by how nice she is to me. I’m not sure what I expected, but this was not it.

“Hurts,” I whisper.

“What hurts?”

I can’t begin to tell her what is hurting me, and I don’t want to move. The energy that is needed to move is too much for me. I can’t even fathom what it would feel like to do it. I don’t do anything but feel the tears roll down my eyes.

“Do you remember what happened?”

I nod. Of course, I remember what happened. Of course, I remember my estranged husband breaking into my apartment and then trying to kill me. I remember all of this only because he didn’t want me to have the money.

If this was only about the money, he could keep it. I’m sure I could figure out another way to make money and be happier than with the money he conned out from under me. If Derekwants to be this awful to me, I would instead just sign and be done with all of it.

The quicker I sign the divorce papers and relinquish the money, the better I will be.

“The police will be here shortly to discuss the accident with you. If you want your brother or boyfriend to stay, please just let us know,” the doctor states with finality. She leans over the bed to push a little button on the side of what I can only assume is an IV bag.

The warmth from whatever she pushed flows through my body, making me cling to consciousness once more. The oblivion and innocence from sleep are very tempting, but I want to know who my boyfriend is.

“Audrina.”

My ears perk at the velvety leather sounding word spoken by Stavros. I don’t say anything in response. I have nothing to say to him. Is this who the hospital is thinking is my boyfriend?

That is madness. Stavros had told me in his own words that he is not the boyfriend-type and I will have to understand that.

“What changed?” I whisper to him.

I’m hoping he understands my question because going into details about what I’m asking is a little above my comfort level. I don’t ever want to beg for a man. I never want to beg someone to love me like I love them or have them want me.

I could be fine on my own.

He leans over the bed. The deep brown of his eyes is shaded with bags under them. He looks as if he hasn’t slept in a while. He smells like cologne and stale smoke.

It is funny we are in the hospital, and all I can think about is why I didn’t know he smoked.

“Audrina, I’m so sorry this has happened to you. I’m going to make it right.”

I don’t have it in me to ask him how he will make it right. How would he be able to make something like this right? There is nothing to be done.

---