0 comments/ 2864 views/ 2 favorites Stockholm Syndrome Ch. 08-10 By: Addicted2Writing CHAPTER EIGHT I woke up later in the exact same position as I was in when I fell asleep in Alex's arms. Since I was facing the window and the nightstand was right in front of it, I was startled it was almost six. I didn't want or have to wake him until after I took a shower, so I carefully slid out of bed and went to bathroom. Stepping into the hot, steamy water was the best feeling in the world -- the second best feeling in the world. Since I'd washed my hair earlier it was a quick shower, taking only a second to pull my hair back and apply a little bit of makeup. When I walked back into the room he was still sleeping, so peacefully I didn't want to wake him, but I knew I eventually had to. So I got dressed, found a radio station playing music I knew, grabbed the room service menu and lay on my stomach next to him. I decided on a cheeseburger and fries, something simple. I was just about to wake him when I heard the unmistakable, horrific southern twang of Miley Cyrus and reached over to turn it off. But I was closer to the edge than I realized, and with the momentum of my arm swing I ended up losing my balance and crashed to the floor, with a loud 'ummph' as I landed on my back. I stared up at the wall as quiet as I could, hoping that didn't wake him. "Carrie?" he called out. So much for not waking him I thought. "Uh, down here." His head peered down from the bed, and he proceeded to bust out laughing. "Don't laugh at me!" I fussed, though I wasn't angry at all, just embarrassed. "Okay, okay. Sorry. You're dressed." He frowned. "Why are you dressed?" "Because I took a shower and changed. Duh." He got off the bed and stood in front of me, and I was relieved he had put on his trunks, though it didn't really hide much. "Duh? What are you, eight?" he teased. "Oh, shut up and help me up!" I smiled, then he took my hands and pulled me up like I didn't weigh anything at all. "Thank you. Now that's all—" I crashed into his arms, my hands secure on his shoulders, and he kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed into him, liking how secure I felt in his arms. As much as I wanted him again my brain got in the way. I forced my lips to tear away from his, regrettably. "Alex, didn't you want to take me to sunset hill? I was really looking forward to that." "I was thinking we could stay here, eat dinner and spend the rest of the night making love." "You've almost got that in the right order. We eat dinner, you take me to Sunset hill, you stay here and we make love all night." He sighed, grinning playfully. "Since you invited me to spend the night, I'm okay with your offer." "My offer?!" I stepped back and put my hands on my hips and said as angrily as I could, "I might have invited you to stay the night, Mr. Skarsgard, but I'm taking 'making love' off the table right now." He jerked his head back in surprise and narrowed his eyes at me, then seemed to be genuinely confused. "Carrie, are you mad that—" "Am I mad? Am I mad?! Yes! I'm furious!" I bust out laughing. "You are mean," he said, shaking his head. "Mean, yes, I can be at times. But am I cute?" I grinned. "You, Ms. Boyce, are more than cute." He bent down and kissed my cheek affectionately. "Hey, before you get in the shower order something for dinner." "Ah, good idea." He sat on the bed and read over the menu. "What are you having?" "Cheeseburger and fries." He looked at me dumbfounded. "Let me get this straight. This is your last day here, and you're getting a cheeseburger and fries." "Yep, that about sums it up." "O-kaay." He picked up the phone and placed the order in Swedish, shaking his head before he said cheeseburger and fries. I stuck my tongue out at him. He spoke longer than I would have thought it would have taken to order two meals. "They said about half an hour," he said as he stood and headed for the bathroom. Turning at the door, he said seductively, "Care to join me?" "No, thanks. I want to -- I've already taken a shower, you know that." Shrugging his shoulders he said, "It was worth a shot." He winked before he stepped in and closed the door behind him. Slowly his words sank in. We fooled around for what, not even an hour, and it's all he seems to be focusing on? I thought, becoming livid. I had to tell myself I gave myself to him, so I had no reason to be angry. So, we spend one more night together and go our separate ways. I can live with that, I concluded. The food finally came, with the food for dinner on the tray, but a small paper bag, which he never opened to show me what was in it. As much as I begged, he wouldn't tell me. I eventually gave in and stopped pestering him. It was almost 7:30 by the time we left the hotel, and I followed him to his car, which was a Volvo, and that is all I knew about the car. He opened the door for me and I slid in before he closed the door and got in behind the wheel, resting the bag between his legs. "Hey, before we leave, there's something I want to give you." I turned to look at him, surprised. "Alex, you don't—" "I know I don't, but I wanted to." He grabbed the bag and opened it, taking out a small ring box. "I saw this this morning when I walked home. I just had to get it for you." My mind reeled. I didn't know whether I even wanted to accept it. Before I could object, he handed it to me. I couldn't turn it down then. I smiled nervously, held my breath and flipped the lid of the box. When I saw what it was my mouth dropped. "Alex," I whispered in amazement. "Dolphin earrings. They're beautiful." He seemed to loosen up a bit. "I remembered what you said about being a marine biologist and swimming with—" I stopped him by planted a long, hard kiss on him. "You're so sweet. Thank you so much." "You're welcome. I'm glad you like them. I wasn't sure ... I wanted you to have something to remember me by." I jerked my head up and looked at him. "Seriously? Alexander Johan Whatever Skarsgard, it doesn't take a damned pair of earrings for me to remember what an incredible two days it's been for me." He smiled so proudly. Quickly I put them on. "How do they look?" "Beautiful." We finally got on the road, though we were still in the city and about half a block from an intersection. I was completely at ease with him in the car, totally relaxed. "I am so not looking forward to tomorrow, well, tomorrow won't be so bad, but Monday. It's a sixtee—" Suddenly Alex slammed on the brakes, the tires squealed, and he turned the car sharply to the left. My head jerked sharply to the right, but not so much that I hit my head on the window. "Alex, what the hell are you doing?!" I had just put my left hand on the dashboard and my right hand on the door handle, starting to look around when I felt a horrific impact on the car's front right end, the side I was sitting on. Before I could anything the car spun around, causing me to grunt in surprise. "Hold on!" Alex screamed at me. Then there were more squealing tires and another impact, this time directly on my door. The sound of metal-on-metal was incredibly loud, but it didn't drown out my scream of pain at the incision slicing up my right thigh. "Fuck, fuck! Jee—" Just when I prayed the car would stop the car jerked harshly to the right with another loud crash on the left of the car, that time knocking my head into the windshield; my head settled on the headrest at an awkward angle. Then my head suddenly exploded, or so it seemed to me; stars blurred my vision so badly I had to close my eyes, which only made my head feel worse so I opened them again, though I couldn't see past the crumbled car door. "Alex. Are you okay? Alex. Fuck, damn it ..." I whined, so softly I didn't think he heard me. I tried to move my right arm to touch my leg to see what the damage was, but I screamed again as pain reverberated throughout my entire body. I was instantly relieved when I heard, "Fucking shit. Carrie?" He hesitated. "Oh, Carrie." Although my ears were ringing a little, I could still hear the tone of terror in his voice. Tears streaming down my face, I turned my head to look at him, which only made me cry out again. "Owowowowowow." That was when I realized I probably shouldn't have done, that considering I had metal pins in my neck from the surgery, and I might have made it worse. I looked over his face, cringing when I saw the gash just above his left temple. I moaned again before I said, "Your forehead, it's bleedin'." "I'm fine. Don't move, Carrie." "Hmmph, won't. You hurt?" I muttered and closed my eyes. "No. And open your eyes. Keep your eyes open. Don't go to sleep." "No, won't. Jus' need to—" "You don't need to do a damned thing but keep your eyes open." When I did, he turned his body toward me then suddenly groaned loudly, which made me look at him. He grabbed the seat belt, pulling it away from him. "I know I'm not the best thing to look at but don't you dare close your eyes." I was in so much pain I didn't know what I was saying. "Nah, you're pretty nice looking. I think I could stare at you all day." He grinned and shook his head before he looked around inside the car, cursing. A few people came to his side of the car and hollered at him in Swedish; he answered back, although he didn't take his eyes off of me. "Relax. They've called for help. They'll get us out." He looked all around me, and I didn't like the expression on his face, much less the look of fear in his eyes. "Al'x, you're scaring me." I was going to compliment the color of his eyes for some odd reason when I heard sirens from a distance. I closed my eyes, relieved. "See," he said, ignoring my comment. "They're coming. But damn it, look at me." He moaned louder when I felt his hands on my face. "The only thing I'm scared about is you ..." His confession wasn't enough to make me open my eyes. "Can'..." He started fussing at me but his voice faded, as well as the pain as I passed out. --------------- The car shook violently, forcing me awake, though I didn't know how much time had passed. My eyes flew open in terror, but I couldn't move my head; I tried but grunted in pain. I felt a huge, warm hand clasping around mine, so I squeezed it back. "Well, there she is. Don't move your head, Carrie. You've got a neck brace on." My neck wasn't the problem. It was my thigh and arm that was killing me. The last time I felt anything that bad was when I had a bunionectomy. The following day I woke up vomiting because the pain was so intense. That was the reason I never had the other foot done. "Huh? Okay. Why?" "We've been in an accident." "Oh." I couldn't wrap my head around what he'd said. "Are you okay? I can't see you." My voice quivered, and I started to cry. "None of that. They're working on getting it started now." He wiped the tears from my cheeks, but that only made more tears come. A surge of intense, mind-blowing pain tore through my entire body, making me scream. "Alex, Fuck. I hurt, I really hurt. Make it stop, make it stop." "I'm sorry, hon. I wish I could—" He looked out the broken window, listening to someone from outside. "Carrie, they need to know what medications you're on and if you're allergic to any." "Beats the fuck out of me," I said. Then my mind cleared. "Um, Lis'pril for ... hmmmph fuck ... high blood pressure, and 'lergic to 'cillins." "What? What is cillins?" "Amoxicillin and, and, um ... other one." He screamed my answers again then hesitated, listening further. Turning back to me, he said, "Care, in a minute they're going to—" I never heard him finish his sentence. --------------- I woke up with my head shrieking at me so loud I couldn't think straight. The car still shook but it wasn't as strong as before. The shriek rose and dropped, so damned loud as it filled the cabin of the car. There was something string-like tight around my head, and as I took a breath cool, clean air seemed to make it easier to breathe. But the pain in my thigh was different, thus no less unbearable. I screamed again in pain and fear, my body shook violently. I forced my eyes open, though I was petrified at what I would find. But it was strangely dark, and I thought for sure I was dead and in hell with all the noise and pain. Through the pain I felt something slightly heavy on top of me, from over my head to past my feet. Someone was talking to me, their breath streaming gently over my face; I couldn't hear what they were saying through the clatter. They were sitting right next to me, right where Alex was ... "Al'x," I grunted. Suddenly the racket stopped, though my ears still rang loudly. I heard my name but still couldn't move my head to find out who it was. Slowly the voice came louder and clearer. "You're doing great. They have just a little bit to go. Hey, they want to know how you are doing." I couldn't respond right away, afraid if I spoke the pain would become worse, if that were possible. "Carrie, Carrie!" "Pain's bad," I managed to mutter. "Cold." "They've got you on oxygen. They just need a little more time. Hang in there." "Can I go back to slee'?" He squeezed my hand tightly, and I didn't ever want him to let go. "Yes, baby. I'll see you—" CHAPTER NINE The next thing I remember I was lying flat on my back, listening to voices shouting in Swedish. I shivered, but it was because I was cold, even colder than I was in the car after the crash. I soon discovered I was lying on a gurney in an emergency room naked. I grunted loudly as the pain slowly started to come back. I still couldn't move my head, which pounded like hell, my leg throbbed angrily, and my right arm felt like it had gone through a meat grinder. "Al -- lex, Alex." "Carrie, hello," a woman said as she looked down on me. I was still wearing the neck brace so I couldn't turn my head to really look at her. "You in Beckamberga hospital. Remember what happened?" Someone pulled at my leg, and I screamd out, "Ow, ffffff ... staawp!" "We know you in pain. Do you remember—" "'lex, Al ... car, um, where's Alex?" "Do not worry about Alex. We are assessing your injuries now." That was translated in my pain-induced brain to: You're a lot worse off than he is, so we're dealing with you right now. "Dr. Bergstrom is going to ... tell us if you feel it, okay? Do that for us?" It took me a second to let the question sink in. "Carrie, can you hear me?" "Yeah, yeah," I mumbled. The woman still hovered over me, and I immediately felt a sharp object run up the bottom of my foot. I jerked it back because I'm incredibly ticklish. "Fuck, fuck ... don'." "Good, good. We can give you something for the pain, but ..." Her voice faded away. --------------- "I don't know. She had reservations to fly out sometime today ... I don't know ... No, I don't ... I don't think that'll be necessary. But let me talk with her. Is there anything else you can think of ..." I recognized the voice, instantly relieved to hear Alex's voice. I desperately wanted and needed to talk to him, and though I did try, I didn't have the strength to even attempt it. All I knew was that there was no pain whatsoever. I drifted back off to sleep. --------------- I was lying helpless on the metro train tracks, looking up at strangers who were screaming at me in a language I didn't know. "Help me up!" Then they started laughing and pointing at me. The train's horn blast echoed throughout the station, growing louder and louder as it approached me. Looking down the tracks I saw the train's lights coming. "Please, please! Pull me up!" I cried out, to no avail. Closer and closer the train came, faster and faster ... I kicked my right leg out and instantly screamed in pain; my leg felt like it was being split in two with a butcher's knife. "GOD! Fuck, fuck!" My whole body shook as I burst into tears. I tried to wipe my face, but my right arm wouldn't move. They must have removed my neck brace because it was no longer tight, but there was still a tube in my nose. "Carrie, Carrie. Relax. It's okay." I knew it was Alex, but I didn't care. The stinging pain circled around me and kept kicking me. "You need something for the pain." "No ... It won't, it won't." "Shh, shh. I'll go get the nurse." "No, no! Don' leave me," I sobbed. "I'll be right back." "No ..." He might have been gone only a minute or two, but to me if felt like an eternity. I strained to open my eyes to look for the door for Alex's return, but I saw my right arm in a sling, my lower body covered with a light blanket. "Alex, Alex!" I tried to say, but it came out as a whimper. Alex walked back in with a nurse, speaking Swedish. He walked straight to me, on the right, while the nurse went to my left. "Carrie, sweetheart. The nurse is going to give ..." He bent over the bed railing, rested on his elbows and put his hand on my cheek. "Just relax. It'll go away real soon." I saw him look to my left, and that's when I noticed the bandage over his left temple. "Al' ... your ... are you 'kay?" "I'm fine." The nurse took a few steps back. "Is it working yet? The pain gone?" He started to brush strands of hair back around my ear, his face so soft and caring, yet filled with worry. "No, it still ..." Then a warmth flooded through my veins, my head swam, and I melted into the mattress. "Ah, much better," I slurred. He smiled. The nurse said something to him, he nodded. "Al'x, you okay?" He leaned in and kissed my cheek. "I'll be here when you wake up." "I' glad yooor okay." The last thing I heard him before I fell asleep was, "I'm so very sorry." --------------- The next time I woke up I was still hurting, but it was by no means as excruciating as it was before. For the first time I noticed how my face felt in certain spots, like my face had been splattered with tiny pebbles. I looked around the dark room, barely lit by a soft light over my head. It was enough to see a man sitting in a chair by the bed, his head leaning on his shoulder, his long legs crossed and stressed out. He was softly snoring. Only then did I feel something soft and fuzzy under my left hand. I attempted to say his name, but my throat was too dry to speak. Clearing my throat I tried again. He jolted awake, sat up then came to the bed. "Hi, Carrie." Smiling, I reached my hand out for his, which he took. "How are you feeling?" "Better. What time is it?" "Just after midnight." He took the thing under my hand, as it turned out it was a stuffed teddy bear. He placed it in the crook of my left arm. "The nurse wanted me to get her when you woke up." He pressed a little remote near my hand. "Midnight? I've got to be at the airport—" "No, no, sweetheart. It's Sunday night, Monday morning, actually." "What?! But I'm flying -- supposed to fly out this morning." The nurse walked in and said something to Alex. "I'll have to translate for you because she doesn't speak English, and there aren't any interpreters on the night shift. Will you allow me to do that?" Of course I didn't mind. I answered a whole bunch of stupid questions, thankfully nothing too personal that I didn't want Alex to know. When she was done, I asked, "What happened to my leg and arm?" Alex relayed, "The doctor will be in tomorrow to tell you about your injuries." "Why does—" The nurse interrupted me. "Carrie, sorry. She wants to know how the pain is for you now. She's going off her night shift, and it might be an hour or so before the replacement nurse can give you a pain killer." "It's not bad like it was before. I'll be okay." "You sure?" Alex asked, without the nurse prompting him. "Yeah." When she left, I said to him, "I wanted to talk to you anyway." "Care, that's no reason not to take the painkiller." "I know. But I'm awake now. What the hell happened? Why does my face hurt?" Stockholm Syndrome Ch. 08-10 "It's a long story. But I will tell you not to worry about anything because I called the American Embassy earlier this morning and talked with a representative." That's who he must have been talking to when he was on the phone. "I gave them your name and address, and your passport number. I hope you don't mind. They took care of cancelling the flight arrangement, including the refund. They want to meet with you as soon as you're able to talk to them." "Okay, but I won't go back to sleep without you telling me what happened." He shook his head. "Stubborn girl." I nodded. "Do you think it'd be safe if I sit on the bed?" "Please?" He lowered the rail after fiddling with it, then sat down slowly and carefully so as not to rattle me. I lifted my left arm, which was hooked up to an IV, and put it on his knee. He seemed to inhale sharply. "What's wrong with your knee?" "Nothing, nothing." He took my hand. "I'm just a little bruised, that's all." He took a deep breath. "Okay, I saw the car coming and tried to ... he rammed into us, just past the right tire. The car spun around, and we got hit by another car coming from the opposite direction, that's what hit your door. It pushed my car against another parked car. The bastard ran the stop light." "Hmm," I mumbled, like he was telling about the weather. "But what was that thing over us, in the car?" "It was a plastic, protective sheet. Even after they moved the second car they couldn't just take the door off without taking the chance of getting too close to your body. They had to cut the roof off, and only then were they able to remove the door to get you out. And it was a good thing you told me about your neck surgery. They were really, really concerned it was damaged further." I let it sink it. "Oh. How many stitches did you get?" "Four, no big deal." "Oh, good. What about my leg and arm? Why the hell does my leg hurt so fucking bad? And my face, my face feels a little tight." "All I know, and all they told me, was they took x-rays of your neck, leg and arm. You were in surgery for almost two hours so they could ..." He stopped talking for a brief second. "They had to clean your leg up, but the good thing is you have feeling in your leg." "Still have feeling? Is it that serious?" He looked away from me, like he didn't want to tell me, or couldn't tell me. I squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Please tell me. Why are you so bothered?" When he turned back toward me, his head was bowed, but when he looked up his eyes were moist. "What is it? What's wrong?" He shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. "I ... I am so, so sorry about ... I should have seen him coming sooner, and ... It's my fault you're here, that you're hurt." "Wha'?" I asked flabbergasted. "No, it wasn't." "Yes, it was," he replied, his voice stern yet cracked. "If I hadn't been so selfish and wanting to take you to the hill ... if we'd just stayed—" "Whoah. Stop right there." I groaned because my body tensed from my outburst. I had to remind myself not to get upset because I didn't want the pain to get worse. "Listen to me. It wasn't your fault." He sniffed, and my heart broke when I saw a tear fall down his cheek. I reached up and wiped it away. "Alexander Skarsgard, I do not, nor will I ever blame you for the freaking accident. It was just that, an accident. Accidents happen. Look at the way you and I met." I made sure my voice was light when I'd said that so he'd know I was just teasing him. He looked over my face, frowning, but wearing a small grin. "Dear, we didn't meet by accident. I knew what I was doing when I asked to sit with you." He wiped his eyes, which appeared to be drying. "I get what you're saying. But I still feel bad." "Well, get over it." He chuckled, making the bed shake a little. His eyes widened as if he hurt me somehow. "It's okay." I couldn't help but yawn, suddenly feeling exhausted and sleepy. "Get some sleep. I'll be by tomorrow night, early, to see how you are doing." I nodded, though it hurt like hell. "You'd better. You go home and get some sleep, too." "No. I slept in the chair." "Not very well. Your eyes are all puffy, and you look really tired." He sighed in defeat. "Fine. Mom taught me not to argue with a woman. I'd lose every time." "Damn straight." He chuckled then got off the bed. "I hope you sleep well." "I will." He stood there staring at me, shuffling his feet. "I haven't brushed my teeth since yester -- in two days, but don't I get a goodnight kiss on the cheek?" He smiled warmly. "I can do better than that." He bent over and kissed me gently on the lips. I cringed because my bottom lip was sore. He stopped and looked me deep in my eyes, glancing from one eye to the other. Suddenly I remembered something. "My earrings, the pair you got me. Where are they?" "I got them. They gave me your jewelry and your purse, too. Your license and passport are in the top drawer." I smiled then closed my eyes. "Thank you. And thanks for Lucky." "My pleasure. Lucky? That's what you named it?" "Yep, 'cause I'm really lucky to have found a friend like you." CHAPTER TEN The doctor came to visit me later that morning. As much as I wanted to talk with him about my injuries, by the time he left I was sorry I did. The x-rays showed no broken bones, a miracle considering how badly Alex and I were bashed around in the car. My right arm and shoulder were just severely bruised, and the only reason the sling was around my arm was to limit movement, but only for the next few days. The shattered glass from the windows of the car had cut my face, but no stitches were required. My neck was fine, although I'd be extremely sore, yet he wanted me to keep it somewhat still, no quick turning. The leg, my right leg, was a different story. The metal from the car door penetrated my thigh vertically, on the side more so than the top. That was a good thing, he said, because if it were horizontal it would have sliced through veins, the muscles and the bone, more than likely. I might have lost the leg altogether. The two hours in surgery were exploratory, just to see exactly what they were dealing with damage-wise. The only thing that could be done, that really needed to be done, was to remove some jagged edges of skin that were too shredded or damaged to heal on its own. There were dissolvable stitches for the tissue on the inside of the thigh, with stables on the outside. I asked him when I could be released, and he said that depended on me. If I did what he said, get on my feet and walk the hall, even if for five minutes, and was able to urinate without the catheter, I could be out by Thursday. It was then Monday, three days didn't seem too bad. Overall, I was in pretty good shape, he concluded. Pretty good shape? Sure, if I was the Bride of Frankenstein, I thought before I fell to sleep. I woke up later when the orderly brought lunch, but all I could eat were two bites of dry toast, but I did finish all of the orange juice. I was tired and wanted to sleep, but I couldn't. I propped the front of the bed up, moaning and groaning the entire time. A few minutes later a woman carrying a briefcase walked into the room. She wasn't a nurse; she was wearing a business suit. "Hello. Are you Ms. Boyce?" I nodded. "I'm Jessica Peachtree. I work at the American Embassy here in Stockholm. I hear you've had a bit of misfortune." The word misfortune wasn't extreme enough for the predicament I would be in, I realized later. "How are you feeling today?" She pulled up a chair close to the bed, put the case on the floor and sat down. "Fine," I lied. Actually, the morning was pretty rough. Before the doctor came in I'd woken up crying in pain, my leg hurting so bad it was shaking uncontrollably. Then I threw up, twice. The nurse gave me something for the nausea and the pain, though not the morphine she'd used before. It did take all of the pain away just as effectively, but didn't knock me out. "That's good news. I got a call from Alex Skarsgard about your accident." She seemed to blush when she said his name. "That's why I'm here." She reached down, grabbed the briefcase and opened it, pulled out a brochure and set it on the nightstand. "The brochure will explain all you need to know. I've contacted the hotel you were staying in, and they've checked you out, holding your luggage until you return. I was able to cancel your flights home. You let me know if you don't see the credit on your credit card. My business card is in there." She nodded toward the nightstand. "If you have any questions, call me anytime." "Wow. Okay, thanks. I was really worried about what the hell I was going to do." "Did Alex talk to you about ... I mean, it's none of my business but ... Well, I need to authorize your luggage to be released if ..." "Ms. Peachtree, what are you talking about?" "Oh. He must not have. I'll leave that between you and him." She stood and grabbed her briefcase. "Ms. Boyce, I have to admit I was shocked as hell when he called me. I've been here almost two years, and I have yet to even see the man." Then it dawned on me that was why she blushed. "I know it's none of my business, but how did you run into him?" Nope. I thought. It is none of your business. "Coffee." That was all she needed to know. "I've had a crush on him for years, especially in Battleship. He looked absolutely gorgeous in that Naval uniform." I didn't say anything, and she seemed to get the hint. "I'm sorry. I really hope you feel better." She turned and walked toward the door. "Jessica?" I called out. She turned around, and I smiled. "He was even hotter in his soccer outfit, wasn't he?" --------------- I was really excited about seeing Alex after dinner, since he said he'd be by then. The catheter was removed earlier, and with the nurse's help to the toilet I peed a river. The same one went with me for my mandatory five minute-walk down the hallway. Even though she was pushing me on, being very supportive, I was sweating and crying by the time I made it back to the bed. She gave me a pain killer, and I was out in two seconds flat. When I woke up later it was dark outside. I was so afraid I'd missed Alex. I pressed the button for the nurse. When she came in I asked her if Alex had been by. She looked at me like I was speaking Mandarin. "Alexander Skarsgard," I said again. When she repeated his name it sounded like, 'Alec-jhander Scores-gourd.' She shook her head. "No." I remembered she was one of the nurses that didn't speak English, except for yes and no, apparently. "Time?" I said, lifting my left arm and pointing at the wrist with my right. "Time?" She showed me her watch. It was 2:30 a.m. I tried not to show alarm on my face -- not that it was 2:30, but that he hadn't come by like he said he would. He hadn't let me down in the short time I'd met him, but he did have a life. Hell, he had no obligation to me whatsoever. I'd see him tomorrow. Maybe he'd answer the question of what Jessica Peachtree was talking about. --------------- Tuesday started off the same and ended the same. No Alex. I still wasn't mad at him for not calling or coming by. I was mad at myself for allowing him to get to me the way he had. I didn't cry. I didn't curse. I just mentally patted Alex on the back, thought, Well-played, dickhead, and chalked it up to being with another complete asshole. I did, however, throw Lucky in the trash can. --------------- Wednesday morning was just as bad as the night before. No. It was worse, much worse. Was Alex more hurt than he let on? I cried. I slept. Was there a death in his family? I woke up crying. I went to sleep crying. Did he win the Noble Peace Prize and left for Bumfuck Egypt? I deserved it. I should have known better. Alex was nothing but an egotistical, womanizing son of a bitch, I surmised. The doctor came by again that afternoon and was pleased at my progress. He removed the sling from my right arm as well as the IV. My arm was littered with little tiny cuts and bruises, pretty much the same as my face, minus any bruises. He wanted me to keep up the walking and eat more than I was; the damned nurses must have ratted me out. He told me if I ate all of my dinner that night and breakfast the next morning, he saw no problem with me leaving around noon. Then he wanted to look at my thigh to see how it was healing, but I was afraid to see it. After he took special care removing the huge bandage, I was doing a good job not glancing down, but he hit a particularly sore spot and I did just that. The scar looked to be six inches long, about three inches above my knee to just above the middle of my thigh. Long staples held my bright pink skin together; the skin around it tight from the excess to staple it shut. Yes, I did look like the Bride of Frankenstein, but I felt like the Queen of the Dumb Asses. I was disappointed and freaked out a little, when he told me if he did release me Thursday that he'd want to see me in three days to determine if I was healing properly, and whether he felt I had enough strength to handle the flights back home. In order for me to get the fuck out of Stockholm, I had to do whatever I could to get strong enough, and in a hurry. So, I dried my tears, swallowed my pride, removed the arrow from my semi-punctured heart and walked the hallway for ten minutes. It wasn't as bad as it was before, but it was still bad. I asked the nurse if I could sit in the wheelchair in front of the window for a change of scenery from the bed. And it was different, alright. A flat, white ceiling is nothing compared to stark, white floor tiles. She said she'd return with a painkiller when I was ready to get into bed. I had only been sitting for a few minutes when I heard someone walk into the room. Considering it was dinnertime, I knew the orderly would just put the plate on the tray; I'd eat when I was ready. So I closed my eyes and put my head in my hand, telling myself I should call Ms. Peachtree to tell her I'd be back to Hotel Soder within a day or two, but then I freaked out over the flight arrangements, then freaked out more over— "Excuse me. Is this seat taken?" Why in the hell am I reliving the outside café table? "Carrie?" Oh, shit. Fuck off, Alex. I didn't move at all. "I saw you in the hall. It's good to see you up. How are you feeling?" Like a jack ass, Alex. How do you feel? "Can we talk?" My first answer to that was no. My second answer to that was hell, no. I remained silent. "I came by—" "I don't give a shit why you came by—" "Let me explain." "You owe me no explanation, Alex. It was a mistake. I'm sorry I ever met you." Why the hell did I say that? What the hell are you doing to me? He hesitated a moment. I heard him before I felt him step in front of me. I forced myself to keep my eyes shut. "A mistake?!" he whispered. "That's what you think?" He grew angry but then calmed down. "Carrie, I came by last night ..." You lying bastard! You didn't ... wait. I had slept during visiting hours. Good excuse ... Don't go there, Carrie. "Go away. I don't want to hear it." He sighed heavily. "Well, you're going to listen to me, anyway," he said firmly. I shot my eyes up at him, ready to tell him to go fuck himself. He was half-sitting on the small ledge of the window sill, one hand shoved in his jeans pocket, his other hand holding Lucky. I almost gasped when I saw how red and swollen his eyes were, all puffy underneath. But I caught myself in time from saying something I'd regret -- or not regret -- and just stared at him. You probably pinched yourself to cry just to get sympathy from me. "I came by last night and you were asleep. I saw the teddy bear in the trash and ... I know I told you I'd come to see you Monday, but ..." "But what, Alex? Did ya get lost in your own hometown?" I said coldly, narrowing my eyes at him. "Damn it, Carrie! This is hard for me!" He stood up and towered over me. At first I didn't, or couldn't look at him, but when I did a sharp stabbing sensation shot down from my neck to my right shoulder blade; the bone behind my ear beginning to throb. I grimaced and whined in pain. He said with his voice much softer, "Want me to get the nurse?" "No. Say what you have to say then leave," I groaned, rubbing my neck. He sat back down so I wouldn't strain my neck again, even though I didn't look at him. "For the past two days I have been locked in my apartment getting drunk off my ass." Oh, that explains your eyes. Again, I should have known. "When I saw you in the I.C.U. and you were in so much pain ... It was hard for me knowing I was the one that put you there. I picked up the phone a million times, and every single time I couldn't think of words good enough ... I couldn't face you ... It would have hurt too much if ... Carrie, I know there is nothing I can say to make you know how so very sorry I am." When I did look at him, I wished I hadn't. His eyes were tear-filled, and when he blinked a tear fell down his cheek. He didn't bother wiping it away. "Don't start, Alex. You're a good actor. Tears won't work with me." He frowned, completely stunned. "Carrie, I—" And then he lost it. He stood and turned his back to me, his shoulders tense yet shaky. At the angle the wheelchair was in I could see the reflection of his face in the window. Tears were streaming down his face in sheets. As exhausted as I was, I was shocked I held my own tears back. I buried my face in my hand because I was getting a little dizzy and was beginning to see spots. "You're an ass." That wasn't exactly what I wanted to tell him. The truth was I didn't know what the hell to tell him. It was a few seconds before he sniffled, then said, "Yeah, I am." His voice killed me, and at that moment I hated him. It wasn't because he admitted he was an ass, which he really wasn't, but because he actually sounded sincere, and he cried. What woman wouldn't break down seeing a man cry? "I told you I don't blame you. But I am mad at you." "Fair enough." He took a couple of deep breaths then I felt his hand on my shoulder. "I'm getting the nurse." I didn't argue with him.