Thorns On My Rose: A Story of the Daughter of Robert Downey Jr. (EDITING)

Chapter 12 - Part 2 - The Blond Taxi Driver

Alana-Rose's Perspective

When I woke up again it was dark outside. My curtains had been opened and I could see the shining moon, it's rays seeming to filter straight through the window and towards my bed. I looked away from it towards my arm, feeling overly drowsy. There was an IV drip in it, a familiar sight that wascf not nearly as welcomed now. I thought about yanking it out, but decided against it. Probably wasn't the best thing to do, considering that I had been in some horrific accident that nearly cost me my life.

I scoffed. Whatever.

None of this made sense. None. Like, okay, maybe I was in an accident. Maybe, maybe, Jake The Asshole somehow let me get loose and I reeked havoc on myself. Okay. Let's pretend that that shit actually happened. That I actually get fricking run over and whatnot by some dumbass. Let's pretend that's exactly what happened.

That whole scenario should immediately be crossed out, ruled out, because it still doesn't explain why the hell I'm here, in fricking San Diego, California. I lived in some random, obscure place in the fucking Lone Star State. In Texas.

Why am I even here?

Say that dumbass did actually run me over and I was there laying on the side of the road, dying and crap... so... what am I doing here?

Naturally, usually, the almost-dead, most-likely-gonna-die-anyway patient is taken via ambulance or helicopter or whatever to the nearest hospital. The nearest fucking one. And really, something told me that a hospital in San Diego WAS NOT the nearest hospital. In fact, I'm pretty sure several hospitals had to be passed up in order to get me here in the first place.

I looked down at myself, trying to make some sort of sense of my latest disaster.

My arm. My arm along with my hand is broken. Awesome. An experience I can mark off of my fucking Bucket List.

I used my IV hand to gently lift the blanket that was covering my legs. It was quite an effort, moving that little blanket, and it just about drained all my energy but I needed to see the... extent to which I'd been injured. One of my legs were broken and my other leg was wrapped tightly in gauze, bleeding through a little. I gagged a little.

"Gross." I whispered coarsely. I sighed, gasping at the small pinch in my side. I looked down to see a small tube inserted in my skin just below the end of my rib cage. I watched as a clear fluid ran through the tube, which went on to unknown regions underneath the bed.

"Good Lord." I breathed. I felt at my torso, feeling pretty sore. Just about everything hurt, I discovered as I patted myself down. There was a soft, gauzy material wrapped around my boobs and torso. It was comfortable enough but made me feel next to naked.

I looked up as my door opened. I was met with a man's face. I blinked. I definitely would have remembered him.

God, he was hot. I mean, just gorgeous. Like he's rolled out of an ad for Candidates For Future Husband magazine. He was older than me for sure, at least mid-twenties. He had blond messy hair and was wearing glasses that made him look like a model for like EyeMasters or something. His tanned golden skin was stretched across a rather brawny bod and his blue eyes held a confidence that I had only seen on one person before. My mother. I was about to tell him to get the hell out of my room when he put a finger to his lips.

He smiled. "Shush. Don't scream or anything. I'm not-I'm not supposed to be up here." He chuckled walking over to me. I let my eyes follow him, somewhat dazed.

The hell? Wait... am I drooling? I reach up to swipe at the side of my mouth.

Blondie sat in the chair Robert had occupied earlier and had this dopey grin on his face, making a small smile find it's way to my lips. He had on a white tank top with small stripes all over it and some dark green cargo pants. Weird combination, I thought.