Blood Bank

Chapter Six

Valeria sat shivering in her hospital bed. The night had taken on an extremely unexpected chill, with high winds bristling in through the window, sharing its deathly, cold snare with the occupants inside the room. Yet what chilled Valeria the most, was the thought of her Nick, out there somewhere, depressed, stressed, and furious. And he wouldn't even talk to her. She sobbed and broke down into a fit of agony every-time she thought of their last encounter- "You're a whore now", he had said venomously.

She refused to believe it. She fought and clung onto one hope- that he didn't mean it, he was only depressed, and he was taking time to himself before confronting her again. Yet what compelled him to say such a thing? Her Nick? The one who used to bring her flowers every day, the one who showed her love that she had never, ever, felt before. She was only twenty-two, but she felt even younger with him. He cared about her so much, and she knew It through his actions. What Nick had said, and done, the last time she saw him, was not his nature. Valeria felt like he had been possessed by some eternal demon of some sorts. Anything but her Nick saying such malicious words.

A knock banged on the door, and then her nurse crept in quietly; it was after midnight, and Valeria was expected to be asleep.

Which was why she was so startled when Valeria opened her mouth to ask her something. "Nurse, could you bring the phone closer for me? I need to call someone."

She jumped a bit, startled, but nodded and brought the clunky dial phone over, and laid it on the bed. Valeria picked it up, and thanked god as she remembered the home phone number for her house. That was due to Nick, as he used to recite it in a sing-song voice every morning, to get her to remember it in case of an emergency.

Well, now there's an emergency, and it involves you, she thought sourly.

The phone, as she expected, rang all the way through without an answer. But what she really wanted, was to leave a sweet message on the answering machine. Like they had done in high school, as sweethearts.

So she did, telling him how much she loved him, how excited she was to live her life with him, and how excited she was for him to propose to her down here, perhaps on a romantic boat ride down Michigan Lake. She even apologized for anything that happened, and she added that she just wanted to see him once again, and to come quickly. When she put the phone down, she had a feeling wash over her, a feeling that, somehow, that would be the last sweet thing she would ever say to him.

She then went to sleep, and her dreams turned amok- she dreamed of someone chasing her with a baseball bat, gleaming with dark red blood, screaming how he was going to beat her for getting raped. Then it transitioned, and she saw the man from earlier that day: the sweet man who had stared at her so longingly, the freshly cut, amiable man who had treated her like a human being, not a patient or victim. He was sitting in a chair, smiling at her, and offered her a glass of water. His clean cut black hair, barely edging past his forehead, and shining, black eyes, poured into her soul. She shivered this time, but in delight.

When she woke up, she would remember this dream.

Where was it? Where the hell was the cursed thing? No, not cursed, just lost and pissing him off. Nick tramped through the house, looking for the ring that he was going to give Valeria- once he had settled all this anarchy first. She hadn't seen it yet, and he was intending to keep it that way. She would see it when he proposed, when the candles glowed around them, and they sat floating upon the lake amidst the stars waning above. That was going to happen, and soon. If he could only find the damned thing!

Find it? What would you do with it? Not propose. You didn't kill the right person. You killed someone who deserved it, but he wasn't the right one. You can't propose. You have to set things right. You don't deserve to see her until you do.