Devil's Desire [h.s.]

Chapter 7

a/n: GET IT WHILE IT'S HOT !!!!!!!!!

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Chapter 7

"How's your head?" Angela asked one morning, days after my spiral. I was perched on the edge of the bed, the makeshift hospital bed, with my knees pulled to her chest. She was busy taking my vitals, checking my heart, doing other shit that I didn't entirely know or care about.

"My head?" I glanced up at her. "I was shot in the shoulder."

Angela rolled her eyes. She was French and sometimes when she spoke to me, I couldn't tell if the edge in her voice was because I was annoying her or because of the language barrier. It made me think of all of those times Harry had spoken to me in Italian. At least I had one person in common who understood what it was like to be in the dark during some conversations.

Harry was directly outside the room. She never let him come in when she was assessing me. The two of us could hear the heavy, steady rhythm of his footfalls as he paced the hallway. Every so often she would curse to herself under her breath then brace a hand to her heart, glancing skywards, as if begging God to help her deal with this angry man who refused to let her do her job properly.

Her eyes drifted to the door and then she held her hand out toward me. I glanced down at it, brows furrowed. She simply wiggled her fingers and rolled her eyes. Finally, I slid my fingers in her palm and let her walk me to the ensuite bathroom. As she shut the door tightly behind her, she reached over to begin running the tap. I was confused momentarily, until she asked again, "Your head. How is your head?"

I realized all at once that she was trying to muffle our conversation so that Harry wasn't able to hear. For a brief moment, I contemplated telling her that once he noticed that he couldn't hear us any longer, that he'd pick the lock and come barrelling in, but refrained.

"Like, psychologically?" I asked and leant back on the counter, crossing my arms over my chest with a small wince. Every once and a while, a certain movement would cause my shoulder to hurt.

She nodded and I found myself stiffening, glancing toward the bathroom door once, before dragging my gaze back to hers. Angela seemed to notice my apprehension, the way I was chewing on my cheek, and her expression softened slightly. "As much as your boyfriend hates to admit it," she began, "I'm a nurse. Whatever you say to me stays between us."

For a long moment I said nothing. I almost wished Harry would choose this moment to burst through the door so that I didn't have to. When he didn't, I faced what I'd been trying to ignore. My body sagged and my knees shook a little beneath me.

"I'm... I've been forgetting things," I admitted in a quiet voice. It was the first time I'd spoken the words out loud. The moment they hung in the air, my ears began to ring, and I felt a little dizzy. Almost sick. "Things from before. Sometimes even mid-conversation," I went on, my voice weak, almost childlike, "is that normal?" I was grateful my back was to the mirror because I suddenly felt very small. I didn't want to face my reflection—the girl staring back at me who I wasn't sure I'd recognize. The loss of control over my own body and autonomy could do that to a person, I assumed. "Is that from the shit going on in my brain?"

The softening in Angela's expression hadn't apparently been enough for her to change her tune. "I'm... not sure," she finally admitted, her voice clipped, and the muscle in her jaw twitched as she forced herself to swallow, "I would really like to take you to a hospital. To get you an MRI, to compare the scans of your brain now to how they were last month—"

"No," I shook my head and pushed off the counter. "No hospitals. It's not a big deal. I can remember most things."

If Angela mentioned to Harry that I needed to go to a hospital, he'd have me there in a heartbeat. But I didn't want that. It would be too dangerous. Would put us all at risk. Morgan had explained that Derek had fled the studio once I'd blacked and that everybody had been so focused on just getting me out, on getting everyone out of the country, safely that they hadn't been able to track him down before we'd fled, but since he knew my real name and most likely went to Damien about it, that they'd be flagging hospitals for if I checked in anywhere.