If Only She'd Loved Him

Chapter 14

Thursday 2:30 pm

Megan woke up on a soft white bed. Her hands ached, but nothing held them back. She stared down at them. Smooth white bandages swathed her wrists. Stretching her neck, she tried to sit up, but then lay back down with a groan. Her head felt like a 2 by 4 had met it. Her mind was a sheet of fog, her memory non-existent. Where was she? Why was her mouth so dry? She tried to lick her tongue across her chapped lips, but her tongue had no moisture. She leaned over, looking around. There, next to the bed, was a glass of water and two white pills that looked like aspirin. Head pounding, she poured the water down her throat, and swallowed the pills with a gulp. As soon as she had finished, she regretted it. Who knows what she had just taken? Megan fought to clear her head, to think back, to remember. What was she doing here? Where was here? And why did her body ache so much? A tiny, stinging pain got her attention back to reality. Surrounded by purplish blue, a pinprick of blood stood out on the back of her hand. She remembered the needle.

In a flash, she was up. Ignoring the warning from her head, she slipped off the bed. A white chenille throw rug caught her feet as she landed. Half skidding across the room, she headed straight for the door. Twisting, pulling, she tried to force the door open, but the knob refused to move past a few turns. She was locked in. She tried to think clearly, but it was hard. She ducked down and crawled towards the light of the window. Black iron bars met her gaze. Gripping them between her fingers, she stared at the outside. It was a classic fall day. Leaves had fallen everywhere. They coated the ground, soaking it through in yellows and dried up browns. Trees and more trees were all she could see. Where was she? The place was so quiet. Megan hated quiet, but somehow the very stillness of the place made it wrong to make noise.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Despite her head, she got ready to run. As the door cracked open, a metal tray appeared followed by Erik. She ploughed into him, sending the tray and its contents flying into his chest. Instinctively he grabbed at the falling tray, and Megan ran right past him. But her head was not in good shape. As she ran, the world started to spin around. Her stomach matched the pain in her head. Disoriented and confused, her eyes blurred in and out of focus. She had no idea where she was. No idea where to run. She started to fall forwards. Only a hand on the railing stopped her from hitting the ground. She slipped to her knees. As Megan fought to regain her feet, Erik reclaimed his. Rising up, he crossed over towards her. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he helped her to stand up straight. Still dazed, but knowing she didn't want him touching her, she flung out her arms. Easily, he pushed them back down. Hands around her waist, he led her back into the bedroom.

"I see you're feeling better."

Eyes closed, she didn't fight him. But the room started to spin, round and around. Her stomach matched the churn. Erik took one look at her green face, wet with sweat and left her side. She heard running water, then something cool and soothing was placed on her forehead. She opened her eyes as he rubbed the cloth across her face.

"It'll pass soon. I promise." He kept the cloth moving, gently rubbing at her temples, her cheeks, along her neck and shoulders. She relaxed as it took away some of the heat from her body. Erik continued to stroke her face with the washcloth and again her eyes closed, relaxed.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He looked down at her pale face and felt sad at its cause. "Anything for you, Megan, anything." He stroked her cheeks until her eyes stayed closed and her breathing turned rhythmic. With great care, he laid her back on the pillows, placing an old quilt over her body. Then he gathered up the food that had spilled from the tray and left the room, locking the door behind him.