Angel Face

Like The Truth?

LXIII

Evangeline's POV

The bright fluorescent light...

The cold trickle of IV flowing through my vein...

They felt, all too familiar now. I blink up at the ceiling like I had been doing for the past five minutes or so. I don't wonder where I am, cause I already know. After all, It's all so familiar. But what doesn't feel familiar is, how cold my right hand is.

I look down at it, wishing to see the familiar golden-brown mop of hair. But I know better. I know he wouldn't be here, next to me. But I can't stop the feeling of sorrow mixed with fear, from hitting me. I fist the white sheet, hoping it would've been his hand.

But I know better.

He's hurt. Way worse than me. He can't be here. I don't even know where he is. Alive or... And I don't even want to know. I just want to be alone and ignorant. For as long as it will last. Because I know, any moment the door will open and someone will walk in and, tell me what is going on.

But until that happens. Let me be ignorant. Let me be numb.

I took short deep breaths as I closed my eyes. I feel wetness trickle down the side of my face. My lips curve up into a sardonic smile. So much for feeling numb. I'm a mess.

The door opened with a soft click. I opened my eyes but stayed quiet as Clarissa walked in. She was staring down at something and didn't notice that I was awake. She let out a sigh as she sat down on the seat next to my bed.

I realized she was staring at her phone when she clicked it off. Her eyes lifted and met mine. I watched the moment it clicked in her mind that I was awake. Her eyes grew wide. "You're awake." She mused in a whisper.

I sighed and looked away.

"Angie," She called. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt? I should call the doctor." She sounded nervous. "I'm fine." I replied blandly. The last thing I need is medical staff fawning over me. "Are you sure?" Nervousness was now replaced by concern as she spoke.

"I'm sure, Clarissa." I suddenly felt tired.

"Do you want to sit up?" I nodded to her question. It was hard holding a conversation when you're flat on your back. She adjusted the bed, and I sighed in relief, glad to give my neck some rest.

"How long was I out?" I finally asked, turning to look at her. She rubbed at her bump, leaning back into her seat. "Two days." My eyes widened, which she noticed. "You needed the rest to recover." She reasoned.

I stared at her, trying to see if I could figure out anything from her behavior. But all I could see was concern and nervousness. She cleared her throat, eyes wandering. "The doctor said, it might take about a month or so, including rehab to get back on your feet. You're also not to put pressure on your feet until you get the all-clear." Her eyes drifted to my legs. "There is going to be a scar though."

I followed her eyes, thinking back to where the cut was. Looks like, I'm going to be showing off a battle scar of my own. But that's hardly a concern.

"Are you going to tell me, Clarissa?"

My words hung in the silence while Clarissa took in my words. "He..." She started but paused, garnering my attention. She visibly struggled with the answer, making me nervous. Maybe, I don't want to know the answer, after all.

I was starting to look for ways to get out of this situation when a resolute look crossed her features. Making me freeze in alarm. "Clarissa?"

"Evangeline," I clenched the sheets in my fists. My mind was yelling at me to escape, I was in complete flight mode. "Duncan is alive." She stared at me and I at her.