A/N: I have a feeling that it's been a little too long since my last update. Have been having a couple of difficulties with the writing process, mostly due to writer's block and the fact that I watched AtU again and it made me rethink a lot of things. Hopefully I've stayed true to the movie enough to satisfy all of my readers and if I haven't, due feel free to tell me. Thanks is rightly needed. Thanks to Bookish as always, Asthetic for the lovely review, and Serenity Rain for droppin' some love.
Anyways, I believe this is one of the best chapters I have ever done in my internet story career. One of my favorites too. I tend to favor chapters I write with minimal dialogue. So I hope you like it as much as I do. Leave a review so I know how you feel! Enjoy!
My Belle
Chapter Eight
Dream to Take the Pain Away
"I know what nobody knows, where it comes and where it goes. I know it's everybody's sin; you got to lose to know how to win."-Dream On, Aerosmith
It smelled of death and vomit. Max couldn't differentiate which one was the stronger scent, but they were both overwhelming him terribly. He thought he might've gotten used to it after such a long stay at the hospital, but apparently that wasn't the case. He figured that one never gets used to such smells. How did those doctors and nurses do it? How could they work twelve hours shifts with war vets when it smelled so bad? Max had to hand it to them. It sure took a lot of balls to work in a place as horrible as this.
The curtains were pulled around him. How peculiar. Usually the nurses didn't bother covering him up. He didn't mind at times, it gave him something to look at whenever he was bored, which was all the time. He had taken in and memorized every square inch of the hospital ward he was placed in. There were exactly twelve beds, two windows at either end of the room, one bed pan at the foot of his bed, and about 243 squares on the ceiling (he was never sure because whenever he counted, he got a different result).
The guy next to him, the last time he had checked, was a newbie. He had probably just been sent home and Max could definitely understand why: about half of his left leg had been blown off. When Max had first lain eyes on him, he had winced loudly. It was a tough sight to look at. But it was hardly surprising. He'd seen much worse. The newbie, however, was not as calm as Max. When they had brought him in on his wheelchair all bandaged up, he was muttering weirdly to himself. Then, when they laid him on the bed, he began to flail around, scream obscenities, and cry all at the same time. This annoyed Max greatly. He was tempted to shout over to his neighbor to chill out, be a little considerate; there were other people in the ward. But before he could, the nurses, who had gathered around the excited newbie, shut him up and he was out.
Max stared to his right at where the newbie was supposed to be, but all he could see was white curtain. His mind began to wonder again. The previous guy, before the newbie, had come in at just about the same time as he had. They talked at times whenever they had the energy to, but mostly they just sat there in bed enjoying each other's company. Inevitably, he had died. It sucked, but Max didn't have much time to dwell on it. Lucy had just visited telling him about Jude's deportation. And before he could dwell on that, the ward was invaded by five incredibly hot nurse clones. They were dressed in unbelievably short and tight nurse uniforms that hugged their curves. Max had entered heaven. They sang to him and he sang to them and they sang together.
Then they shot him up.
The feeling was amazing.
Now that he was awake and fully alert, he wondered when they'd return and give him more. He definitely missed them. After Vietnam, he needed some lovin'.
So with this thought, the smells of death and vomit suddenly left him and all he could feel was the need for those nurses. The want for them to come back.
It felt like hours until anything happened. The curtains were still around him. He would've pulled them away long ago, but he had no strength to blink his blue eyes let alone lift his arm up and make a sweeping movement with it. Finally, someone pushed them away and he felt relief wash him up and down…until he noticed who it was—
"Michelle?" he exclaimed in surprise, his eyes widening. She was dressed in the nurse clones' outfit as if she was going to perform for him, just as they had, any minute. "What the hell are you doing here? Where's—?"
"Anita?" she finished for him. "That pretty nurse that danced around in the middle of the room for everyone?"
He nodded still in shock.
"I told her to take a break," Michelle answered smiling coyly. "I wanted to take care of you today."
Max tried to see over Michelle's figure, but she was blocking the view of the rest of the room.
"Is she gonna' come back?" he asked, still trying to look.
Michelle plastered on an overly dramatic fake, hurt face. "'Course she is. But don't you want me?"
"'Course I do!" he replied feeling guilty. "Are you gonna dance around too and then shoot me up?"
She dragged her index finger up and down his arm tenderly then walked around to his other side, not taking her eyes of his. She then stroked his face softly. "How 'bout we do something better?"
Max contemplated this. He really would like some more morphine but he was curious as to what Michelle had in mind.
"Okay…" he replied calmly, not affected by Michelle's caressing. In fact, he found it quite irritating.
Her smile widened and he could tell she was getting excited. She hoisted herself onto his bed and straddled her legs across him so she was on top of him. She continued to touch him, his hair, his nose, his neck, with her hands. Max raised his eyes at her getting slightly impatient. All of a sudden, she leaned onto him and began to kiss him deeply.
Okay, this was not what he had in mind. He pushed her off and wiped his hand across his lips.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
His eyes drifted towards her hiked up dress, then back to her face.
She gave him an odd look.
"What?" he demanded forcefully.
"Have I ever told you you have really blue eyes?" she asked, still staring at him.
He rolled his really blue eyes. "Only like a million times."
She frowned down on him. She descended from the bed and plopped onto the floor. "You better take care of those eyes, someone might gouge them out."
Max sighed. "It probably wouldn't be as bad Vietnam."
Then "Anita" and her clones appeared, each holding a different torture device. "Let's find out," they said in unison.
Max was overcome with fear. He began to flail around, scream obscenities, and cry all at the same time. Before he could escape, the clones held him down and smiled at him with malicious looks on their flawless faces.
Michelle stood to the side, her hands on her hips, wearing a very uncaring expression. "That's what you get, Max, for not loving me. Now you're gonna lose your eyes."
"But I do love you!" he screamed, still thrashing about.
"Liar," Michelle whispered scornfully.
"I'm not lying! I swear!" The nurse clones seemed to be abnormally full of strength 'cause they had no trouble pinning him to his bed.
"I'm sorry, Max," she apologized even though it was obvious she didn't mean it. "But it's too late. Maybe you should've thought of that before going to New York."
He was about to reply back, but one of the clones stuffed a balled up towel into his mouth and another held up a menacing looking knife. It inched closer and closer to his valuable assets and he couldn't do anything to stop it.
He screamed.
Atleast he tried to.
Wait, hadn't he?
He was sure he had screamed something.
Suddenly he could feel someone shaking his shoulders. He could hear her saying something. He just couldn't see anything.
"Max?!"
Maybe it wasn't him after all.
"Lucy?"
"Oh, Max!"
And then the world was revealed to him. His heavy lids opened up and he realized his eyes were in their sockets after all. What a relief. And then he noticed Lucy's worried figure next to him.
"What happened?" he asked totally confused.
She was sitting beside him in bed and he was sitting up.
"You were having a really bad dream," she told him. "Then you started yelling something and rolling around. You scared me—"
He frowned. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure—?"
"Yeah."
Lucy gave him a knowing look, but departed back to her and Jude's part of the apartment.
Max stared after her until she was out of sight. He fell back onto his covers and realized that they were wet with sweat. He swept a hand across his forehead and felt the dampness there too. He thought back to what had just happened moments before.
That explained everything. It was just a dream. How was it possible to be back in the hospital? How could Michelle even be there? And how could clones hollow his eyes out? Answer: it was all impossible. So he needn't have to worry about anything.
At the moment.
He decided then and there, he needed to go back and confront Michelle. He'd never have another happy, sleep-filled night again if he didn't face his demons.
Though he had to figure out his game plan in the morning, for now, he was so tired.
