My Accidental NFL Boyfriend

My Accidental NFL Boyfriend Chapter 24

Jayla’s POV:

            Let’s say you’re in a strange room, with strange people, hooked up to strange machines, and then told not to be terrified, what would you do? That’s right, hyperventilate, and when I was unable to pull the wires from my hands and arms, I stare wild-eyed at my situation. They had tried to explain it about a billion times, but I still didn’t comprehend. I was almost ready to be released—the only thing wrong with me was my memory, they told me.

            I just couldn’t tell them that I was actually 19, not 24. But they could believe what they wanted. The second I get out of here, I’m taking a cab and going toward Jersey, and forgetting that they told me I was in New York. I couldn’t possibly be in New York, anyway. I wasn’t there yet. That came after my degree.

            I stare at Caleb’s face, the demonic face that seemed to have changed in only 4 days—(that’s when I left that demonic woman’s house), the wrinkles by his eyes were deepened, and his eyes were more mischievous than they had been before but they had a deep look to them. Without thinking, I instantly regarded him as hotter than he had been before. His personality could never change the fact of that, but it changed the fact that I could never like Satan. This demon that had been standing in my room every time I opened my eyes was the same demon I could only regard with a pain in my chest. It wasn’t a good pain, it was a constricting pain—like my body was burning to remember something important, but I was clouded. This was hatred to the person who ruined my life one day at a time for years, leaving me crying, broken, and beaten.

            I couldn’t deal with stress well.

            Then the doctor told me the news.

            “You have to go back to Virginia.”

            “No way in hell.”

            “It’s highly recommended. Caleb is all for it.”

            “Caleb can suck a chode,” I screamed, ripping the last iv needle in my arm, sending a wave of pain through my knees. I bit my lip as hard as I could to dull the pain.

            “Jayla, I think you’re overreacting—” a strange blonde says.

            “No!” I scream. I shove past them, and they let me pass because they know they’d catch me. They always have that one patient that runs away, only to be caught embarrassedly in the lobby before they can exit the sliding glass doors.

            I pause, standing there in front of the elevator.

            I was so dreadfully confused.

            The elevators open, the doors that seemed to scream, ‘come to me, come to me, I’ll nurse you to freedom’, but then the tiles screamed, ‘come to me, come to me, I’ll nurse you back to as you was.’.

            I collapse, between the doors and the tiles and the world and my confused mind. I just sit there, on my knees, my hands clasped to my head, my brain bursting.

            It hurt to think. It hurt to move.  The doors beep, smashing me then retracting back when they felt my shoulders. After the fifth time, I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. I don’t look up. I don’t need comforted, I wanted to go home.

            My body is gently lifted, and pressure is applied to my bleeding arm with a cotton ball.

            “Jayla,” says a soft voice. I close my eyes, wanting to drown out everybody. This was crazy.