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“Rise and shine, time to check your head again,” Crispen shouts in a voice far too enthusiastic for the time of day. I open my eyes to the dim light of the sunrise and Crispen’s face right in the middle of it.
“Ugh,” I groan, “Do I have to get up?”
“Yes, unfortunately,” he murmurs through a smile.
I notice that he’s wearing new clothes. He must’ve changed sometime during the night. He asks me a few questions and shines that stupid light in my eyes again before concluding that I’m still fine.
“I’m fine. I’m starting to think that you just used checking on me as an excuse to stay overnight at my house,” I pry, taking a sip of water from the glass on the coffee table and swallowing my pills.
When he doesn’t answer right away, I turn and look at him kneeling on the floor in front of me and smirking wickedly.
“You’re joking?” I ask, but it sounds more like a statement than a question.
When his smirk doesn’t falter, I grab a pillow from the end of the couch and whack him across the head with it using all of my might. We spent the entire night talking and watching stupid comedy movies that I don’t think either of us enjoyed all that much. I slept for only a few hours, and only because my medication finally knocked me out around three in the morning. Take it from me, it’s pretty tough to sleep when you know someone is going to be watching you all night. I guess it’s better than getting watched by someone else though, and maybe even murdered. Not even the medication was enough to make me pass out for the majority of the night and morning. I hate people watching me sleep as much as I hate them watching me eat.
“Are you serious?!” I demand. I should probably be angry, but for some reason, I’m not. I’m actually relieved, thankful and maybe even enamored. I don’t think anyone in my entire life has shown me such care, including my own mother.
“Maybe it was a little of both. I wanted to get to know you better, and you do need to be under supervision, but as for the deal I made you about not having to stay overnight in the hospital, it wouldn’t have hurt to send you home,” he tries slowly and cautiously. His smirk turns into a careful smile, as he gages my reaction. “Plus, from what you tell me, you shouldn’t be alone right now anyway. Not with a possible crazy brother duo after you.”
He’s right. For the first time in days, I wasn’t constantly worrying about every little noise I heard. I shake my head slowly. “I guess you’re forgiven.”
This seems to please him. He stands up quickly and nods to the door. “The hospital called. They need me to come in this morning. Just for a couple hours though to assist with a surgery.”
“I thought you were a doctor not a surgeon,” I point out. It’s quite possible that he’s both, and I just don’t understand how the whole thing works.
“I’m a little of both honestly,” he explains, “Would you like me to come over here again when I’m done, or are you sick of me?”
I try not to make my nod too anxious. “Sure. If you want.”
“I would love to.” He escapes through the door, and I lock it behind him. Last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a very long time. I’ve found a friend in Crispen, and a friend is something that I desperately need, especially now. I like him a lot, and maybe that’s crazy, because I’ve only just met him, but it’s honest.
While he’s gone, I decide it’s a good time to take a shower. I’d hate for him to return and see me in the same hospital clothes as yesterday. I sneak up the stairs and pop into the shower quickly. I never would’ve imagined climbing stairs and showering would be so hard with a cast and crutches. My cast ends up getting a little wet but not enough to do any harm.
I put on a touch of makeup, so I don’t look quite like the zombie I looked like yesterday, then I have an apple for breakfast and lie back on the couch. I may as well have a nap while I’m waiting for him to return seeing as I only got a few hours of sleep anyhow.
Just as I close my eyes, a loud crash comes from the back of the house. It sounds like breaking glass. I immediately start to panic and envision all of the most terrible, possible solutions. I bring myself up onto my crutches and clutch a knife on my way to the back porch on the opposite side of the living room. I peak through the patio doors while staying out of sight. I see nothing at first, then I notice the broken flower pot on the deck. I debate calling the police.
A movement startles me from behind the barbeque. I’m relieved to see that it’s only a bird. Could the bird have knocked the pot over? I glance at the trees. It’s not windy, it wasn’t the wind. Still shaking with fright, I don’t know what to do. I nearly jump out of my skin when the doorbell rings. I very quickly hurdle myself towards the door and glance through the peephole. Crispen. I swing the door open, and he rushes inside when he sees my expression of fright.
“What?!” he demands in a rough voice. “What’s wrong?”
I point to the back deck and lock the door behind him. “A flower pot fell and broke. I don’t know if it was a bird, or if it was something else. I know that’s silly, but I’m seriously freaking out!”
He stares at me a moment longer and then appears to be listening for any noises. I’m not sure what he hopes to hear with all of the doors and windows closed. Unless he thinks that my possible intruder could be inside of the house...
Crispen, still dressed in his hospital attire, walks swiftly over to the patio door and stands right in front of it. He looks around, pulls the lock up, opens the door, motions for me to stay put, and walks outside. He must be crazy, that or he doesn’t understand the severity of this situation. What if the people that Landon told me about have finally come for me? What if they have guns? What if they kill Crispen while trying to kill me? My gut ties itself in a knot, as a wave of anxiety greater than the one already washing over me overwhelms me. I feel like fainting, but I do my best to hold it together.
Crispen returns a moment later to my relief, locking the patio door behind him. “There’s nothing to worry about out there,” he says, but his normal smile isn’t there. Something immediately tells me he’s lying, but what reason would he have to lie? I nod in relief and slump down on the couch. “It was probably a bird or a cat or something.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. It was just a stupid animal, Megan, nothing to worry about,” he promises and hands me a package he holds in his hand. I take it from him.
“What is it?”
“A get better gift if you will.”
I tear the box open. Inside is a miniature cake with the words ‘Get Better Soon’ iced across it. My mouth begins watering.
“You didn’t have to.” I rush it to the kitchen, trying not to wipe out. I don’t think I’ll ever get the hang of crutches. I probably would’ve been better off in a wheelchair honestly.
He takes it from me and cuts a couple pieces while I grab some plates and forks.
“I wanted to get you something. You’ve had a bad few days.” That he has right. “Here’s to a better next few days.”
