Hospitals sucked, doubly so when waiting in the emergency room. It gave me the willies as I sat waiting.
We weren't related so until he stabilised I wouldn't know what the hell was going on. I fidgeted for a while and tracked the time on the emergency room's old clock.
A television stuck in a corner played black and white images no one cared to see. Country music blared from the nurses’ station, and the banality of it all grated on my last nerve. I had to get out of there.
I stood and left the ER, ignoring the signs indicating the passageway I walked down was off limits and designated to hospital personnel. Away from the noise and urgency of the emergency room.
Dull, boring and quiet, bliss after the waiting room. I slid down the wall and sat down on the cold hospital floor. I brought my hands up and gave them a quick once over.
But no blood clung to them; I hadn't touched his wound or got anywhere near the site. It was shocking that somehow something that horrific hadn't touched me, that it left no mark.
My usual paranoia leaked past my concern, and I performed an inspection. No taint, no spots, no age marks touched them at all. Small and pale, my hands looked like they had never done a day's hard labour of any kind.
I snorted, what a joke. My life before was comfortable, but I did what good wives did and took care of a household. And after Shi entered my life my hands worked harder than I had ever thought possible.
And it was terrible work. No doubt about it. I was a good little assassin for the Man, never questioning my tasks. After all, the little bit of research I had done into my targets showed people the world would be better off without.
Now though I wondered how much of it was a plant, breadcrumbs left for me to find by the Man. Of course, it became evident how my process worked as soon as I completed that first assassination task.
And it must have been so simple to direct my clumsy investigations. Internet searches were never private, regardless of what the public thought. The Man's resources span much wider than I could see. For decades, I didn't even know my damn ex was in on it all.
It bugged the hell out of me that I didn't know how far his involvement went, that I couldn't see how his role played out. The past couple of weeks I've been trying not to think of Richard and certainly not indulge in memories.
I brought my head back sharply and knocked it against the wall behind me, knocking sense into myself would be awesome. Not nearly hard enough to crack my skull but I did bang it hard enough to hurt like hell. All I accomplished was a headache.
Some staff members were making their noisy way down my quiet corridor, and at any moment, they would round the corner and see me. I couldn't deal with their questions, so I got up and walked away in the opposite direction.
Instead of finding more quiet hallways I stumbled onto the hospital cafeteria. Finally some luck. People at cosy little tables were drinking coffee and chatting. A few looked worn, and there were some shell-shocked expressions.
I imagined my face bore a similar expression. Even in my previous life I hardly ever went to hospitals. And those visits didn't involve emergency situations like the current one.
I chose a table out on the deck area. For a hospital, it was a very nice set-up. A small shop attached to the restaurant area and heaps of balloons proclaiming the gender of a new arrival or wishes to get well soon that vied with tiny bears and other knick-knacks.
After a small amount of time, far less than an actual restaurant, a waitress appeared at my elbow with a little menu in hand. It was ridiculous, why did they bother?
"Would you like something to drink?" She asked and handed me the small card.
I glanced quickly at it, coffees mostly and I looked up at her.
"A cappuccino please."
She nodded and walked away while I looked back at the menu she left with me. Coffees and toasted things, pastries and sundry. The little thing trembled in my hands, and I dropped onto the table.
I felt lost and at sea without a life vest. Not entirely accurate of course; there was one person I could call on. Only he wasn't a person, and I still didn't know or understand how to deal with him.
My hand reached for my mobile tucked into my back pocket. I made a fist and clenched it tightly until my nails had dug deeply into my palms. Relaxing my hands, I lay them flat on the table in front of me.
I needed more time to gather my thoughts, to put my blocks in place before I could deal with Asher. Horse shit, of course, I had no blocks when it came to him.
He could see straight through me and into my soul it felt like. And he was an alien, 'the' bloody alien to be brutally honest. Over the last couple of weeks, I learned he wasn't the only alien I knew. And that we were on friendly terms with a few.
Fuck, I just thought of Asher and myself as 'we' again. It kept coming back to that little inclusion, and it drove me up the wall. And before you ask, it wasn't because he's an alien that I resisted.
Initially, I thought that was the case too. Being alien certainly made it possible for him to read my mind. Apparently my thoughts were so damn obvious and loud according to him. Not even the fact that he was hot beyond measure due to his deception filter. A highly efficient filter I might add.
But he worked for the Man, and for at least as long as I had been. But likely for far longer. After two weeks of spending the better part of each day in his company, I was resistant because I still didn't know what he did for the Man.