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Authors: C.M. Owens
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they exchange awkward glances.
"She's scared of hospitals. Just let her rest for a minute. If she doesn't get to feeling better, I'll call my dad. He's a doctor," Clara murmurs softly.
He curls up next to me and kisses my forehead.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know."
I snuggle into his arms and ignore the crowded assembly.
"Who the hell is this guy?" Jerry asks.
"He's Devin," Clara replies smugly.
"Go. I'm fine. Finish your rehearsal. Don't hang out with me. I promise I'm fine," I say, desperate to be out of the spotlight.
"I don't want to leave you like this," Clara sighs.
"Please do. I don't want you ruining your time because of me. I promise I'm fine. I'm already feeling a little better."
She sighs louder, reluctance dragging her breaths out to a heavier flow.
"Okay, but I'll be back in a little while to check on you."
"Okay."
"Don't leave her," Clara instructs to Devin while pointing a threatening finger at him.
"I have no intentions of leaving. I promise she's in good hands," Devin says gently, his eyes breaking away from her threatening promise and rejoining mine.
"Thanks," she murmurs hesitantly.
"No thanks necessary. She's the reason I'm here. I'll let you know if anything happens."
I snuggle in closer, and his arms tighten in response. I hear the people slowly filtering out, and the relentless tone of Jerry in the hallway.
"Someone please tell me who that guy is."
"It's Devin," Henry chuckles.
I want to laugh, but it hurts too badly. What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I feel as if I've been flattened by a truck, re-inflated, and flattened again?
"I can't believe you've never been sick before," Devin whispers.
"I can't believe you're staying at the inn my father manages."
He laughs a little at my disgruntled, playful remark. Rain starts tapping lightly outside to distract me from his delicious chuckles. It sounds so close right now. It's as if my hearing has somehow become overly sensitive.
"I need something to drink," I mumble with closed eyes.
A breeze of wind blows, and I feel him helping me up as he hands me an open bottle of water. My eyes try to focus, but everything is almost a blur.
"Wow. You had that handy."
He smirks at me cockily, but it fades as my body starts shaking. What's happening to me?
"What's wrong?" he asks with more horror tainting his perfect face.
"I don't know," I shakily release through my almost chattering teeth.
"I'm taking you to a hospital," he says adamantly.
I jerk free from his grip. "No! If you take me there I'll never speak to you again," I yelp, tears springing to my eyes instantly.
He tightens his lips.
"What happened to make you loathe hospitals so passionately?"
I shake my head to dismiss the question I really do not feel like answering.
"Please tell me. I'm trying to understand," he comforts.
He doesn't understand the time I spent in the hospital hell. It's pretty traumatic for a five-year-old to be in a cold, dank, and terrifyingly dark room where not even the bugs are brave enough to venture out for very long.
"Because that's where my mother dumped me," I whimper, instantly regretting such a ridiculous over-sharing.
He exhales heavily, and then he pulls me closer to him. The pity in his eyes makes me all the sicker. I hate pity, and it's all I get when people find out.
"I'm sorry, but you really need to be in a hospital. This could be serious."
I pull back and shake my head, the tears in my eyes dripping out my humiliation and pain.
"Devin, you don't get it. I spent five days locked in a basement where no one knew I was. It took them weeks to nurse me back to health - mentally and physically. I was fortunate that anyone found me at all, but they didn't find me before I envisioned every shadow on the wall to be a monster. I was starving, cold, weak, and talking to death's angel due to severe dehydration. Then my birthmother strolled in and walked out with me once
"She's scared of hospitals. Just let her rest for a minute. If she doesn't get to feeling better, I'll call my dad. He's a doctor," Clara murmurs softly.
He curls up next to me and kisses my forehead.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know."
I snuggle into his arms and ignore the crowded assembly.
"Who the hell is this guy?" Jerry asks.
"He's Devin," Clara replies smugly.
"Go. I'm fine. Finish your rehearsal. Don't hang out with me. I promise I'm fine," I say, desperate to be out of the spotlight.
"I don't want to leave you like this," Clara sighs.
"Please do. I don't want you ruining your time because of me. I promise I'm fine. I'm already feeling a little better."
She sighs louder, reluctance dragging her breaths out to a heavier flow.
"Okay, but I'll be back in a little while to check on you."
"Okay."
"Don't leave her," Clara instructs to Devin while pointing a threatening finger at him.
"I have no intentions of leaving. I promise she's in good hands," Devin says gently, his eyes breaking away from her threatening promise and rejoining mine.
"Thanks," she murmurs hesitantly.
"No thanks necessary. She's the reason I'm here. I'll let you know if anything happens."
I snuggle in closer, and his arms tighten in response. I hear the people slowly filtering out, and the relentless tone of Jerry in the hallway.
"Someone please tell me who that guy is."
"It's Devin," Henry chuckles.
I want to laugh, but it hurts too badly. What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I feel as if I've been flattened by a truck, re-inflated, and flattened again?
"I can't believe you've never been sick before," Devin whispers.
"I can't believe you're staying at the inn my father manages."
He laughs a little at my disgruntled, playful remark. Rain starts tapping lightly outside to distract me from his delicious chuckles. It sounds so close right now. It's as if my hearing has somehow become overly sensitive.
"I need something to drink," I mumble with closed eyes.
A breeze of wind blows, and I feel him helping me up as he hands me an open bottle of water. My eyes try to focus, but everything is almost a blur.
"Wow. You had that handy."
He smirks at me cockily, but it fades as my body starts shaking. What's happening to me?
"What's wrong?" he asks with more horror tainting his perfect face.
"I don't know," I shakily release through my almost chattering teeth.
"I'm taking you to a hospital," he says adamantly.
I jerk free from his grip. "No! If you take me there I'll never speak to you again," I yelp, tears springing to my eyes instantly.
He tightens his lips.
"What happened to make you loathe hospitals so passionately?"
I shake my head to dismiss the question I really do not feel like answering.
"Please tell me. I'm trying to understand," he comforts.
He doesn't understand the time I spent in the hospital hell. It's pretty traumatic for a five-year-old to be in a cold, dank, and terrifyingly dark room where not even the bugs are brave enough to venture out for very long.
"Because that's where my mother dumped me," I whimper, instantly regretting such a ridiculous over-sharing.
He exhales heavily, and then he pulls me closer to him. The pity in his eyes makes me all the sicker. I hate pity, and it's all I get when people find out.
"I'm sorry, but you really need to be in a hospital. This could be serious."
I pull back and shake my head, the tears in my eyes dripping out my humiliation and pain.
"Devin, you don't get it. I spent five days locked in a basement where no one knew I was. It took them weeks to nurse me back to health - mentally and physically. I was fortunate that anyone found me at all, but they didn't find me before I envisioned every shadow on the wall to be a monster. I was starving, cold, weak, and talking to death's angel due to severe dehydration. Then my birthmother strolled in and walked out with me once
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