That Fateful Night (ON HOLD)

The Talk

The lady, who I soon found out was Dr. Alice Morgan, just left. She promised to see me again later that evening with the test results.

"Genevieve," the man called from the door. I can see he is not coming in to avoid scaring me again. I must have looked like a scared rabbit when I woke up.

"Hi," I said awkwardly, my fingers fidgeting nervously on my lap.

"Would you mind if I came in?" he asked gently. Not assuming anything. Staying put waiting for an answer.

I look up and study the gentle giant who saved me from the dark cold night. He is almost two heads taller than me. Short dark brown maybe black hair with dark, kind, warm eyes. His strong nose lead down to a hard, straight mouth. He looks worried. Why would he be worried about me?

Maybe because you haven't answered him in like 5 minutes, my common sense pipes up. Where my common sense was last night when I was wondering outside in the cold, I don't know. I wonder when he found me? Have I been here all night?

"Genevieve? " he proded again gently. I quickly nodded. He came in slowly. And carefully sat down on the couch furthest from me.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly. I'm beginning to think he just has a soft voice.

My eyes wandered down to his square shoulders and the black t-shirt casually wrapped over them. I could almost see every muscle in his chest. My eyes focused on the picture on the centre of his shirt. A cat. I don't think I've ever seen a man rock a cat t-shirt. This man centainly does.

"Genevieve," he said again, slightly sharper now. I flinch slightly, but he continues, "Are you okay?"

"No," I answer quickly, wary to make him more impatient. My bruises seem to ache in agreement. "I mean yes. Well - no, but sort of. I guess, yes."

"That's the most convoluted answer I have ever received to that question," he chuckled and his eyes showed his amusement, "care to explain?"

"Not really," I said softly. My eyes on my fidgeting hands again.

"Sorry?" he asked, I must not have spoken loud enough.

"I just had a rough couple of months and yesterday I wasn't okay. Today I'm better. But not fully better. But definitely better than yesterday- "

"Makes sense," he interrupts my rambling, a deep warm covers my cheeks. I must be crimson... and purple and blue - my common senses pipes up, reminding me of my predicament. I feel tears rushing up into my eyes.

I must not cry.

I must not cry.

I will not cry.

"You're allowed to cry," he said softly, "you've clearly been through a lot the past few days."