I park the car outside of Providence General Hospital and walk into
the emergency room. I walk up to the front desk, and clear my fault to get
the nurse's attention. She momentarily glances away from her computer
screen before her eyes flick back to it.
I sigh, and then clear my throat to get her attention. Typically rude hospital personell.
She raises an eyebrow, not even bothering to look away from the screen. "Can I help you, sir?"
"Yes, I'm looking for a. friend of mine. Stacy Kiebler. Has she been treated yet?" It seems odd for me to call Stacy a friend. We'd had a few short conversations before, but we'd never really had the chance to become close.
The nurse types into her computer. "What's your name, and why was she admitted?"
"Chris Irvine. Stacy was admitted for," I take a deep breath. "Severe head trauma."
She finally takes a good look at me, her face showing signs of recognition. "Hey, aren't you the one-"
"Yes," I say as quietly as I can. "I'm Chris Jericho, the assclown that put her in here. It was an accident and I just want to see if she's okay." I take a deep breath, willing her to believe me.
She looks at me for a moment longer and then sighs softly. "Room 261, floor number two."
"Thanks," I glance at her name badge. "Thanks a lot, Becky."
"Yeah, well, just don't make me regret giving you the room number."
I stand in front of the closed door of room 261, the bunch of yellow roses that I bought at the hospital's gift shop in my right hand. I raise my hand and pause for a second before softly knocking.
The door swings open and I find myself face to face with her boyfriend, Andrew. He gives me a look that in no short terms tells me to start talking, or else I'm a dead man. "What the hell are you doing here, Chris?" He says quietly, still blocking the doorway. "Come to do more damage? You already gave her a concussion. She's lucky that you didn't do more than that."
"Andrew, man, you know me. You know that I would never do something like that intentionally."
"Chris," His voice is now shaking with rage. "Get out of here. Neither Stacy or I can handle seeing you right now. Leave, and don't come back."
"Fine." I put the flowers on a gurney that happens to be by the door. "Give her these, and tell her." I pause, fighting back tears, "Tell her that I'm really sorry."
Andrew gives me a glare, daring me to follow him inside. He picks up the flowers and walks into her room, closing the door behind him.
I hear Stacy's weak voice from behind the door. "Who was it, 'Drew?"
"No one, Stace. No one at all. Get back to sleep."
Later that night, I return to the hospital. I walk right up to her room, and find that the door is open, and the bed is empty. I walk up to the nurse's station and clear my throat. "Excuse me, miss. Where is the woman who was in room 261 this morning?"
She looks up at me. "She's been moved to another room, sir. What's your name?"
"Chris Irvine."
She types something into the hospital's computer. "I'm sorry sir, but her boyfriend has informed us not to allow you to see her. I'm afraid that you must leave the building."
I nod and wordlessly walk towards the elevator. As I do, I see a pale yellow object in the trash can in Stacy's former room out of the corner of my eye. I glance over at it, and wish that I hadn't. Sitting in the trash can is the bouquet of roses that I had bought for her.
I leave the building and go out to my car, opening the door and sitting down. I put my head on the steering wheel, trying to clear it. My cell phone rings and I reach over and grab it from the dashboard. I wait for the second ring and then pick it up with a sigh. "This had better be good."
"Is that any way to talk to your boss?" Biscoff sounds full of himself, something that he rarely does anymore.
"Biscoff, shouldn't you be worrying about your job. I mean you've only got, what, about twenty days left."
"Twenty days, five hours, seven minutes. But that's not what I called to tell you about." He sounds pissed and I feel a slight smile curl my lips, despite my overwhelming guilt. If there's one thing that I love, it's torturing Eric Bitch-off. "I'm calling to tell you that you have until Monday off-"
"Really?" I try not to sound shocked and fail miserably. "Thanks, Eric, I-"
"-You didn't let me finish. I have an idea." I can hear the triumph in his voice, and I can almost visualize the fake smile that he has plastered on his face. This can't be good. "You're going to play this off like it's Test and Stacy's fault that she got hurt. You can slip an apology in there somewhere, but you will blame them."
"But Eric. I can't. I mean."
"Chris, either you do it, or you join your friend Raven in the unemployment office. RAW has no room for dead weight right now. You can get your tag team partner to help you, but this will happen Monday night." The phone goes dead. I've never heard Bitch-off say goodbye on the phone. He prefers to have the last word.
I toss my phone on the passenger seat, and put my head back down onto the steering wheel. I have a feeling that this situation is only going to get worse.
I sigh, and then clear my throat to get her attention. Typically rude hospital personell.
She raises an eyebrow, not even bothering to look away from the screen. "Can I help you, sir?"
"Yes, I'm looking for a. friend of mine. Stacy Kiebler. Has she been treated yet?" It seems odd for me to call Stacy a friend. We'd had a few short conversations before, but we'd never really had the chance to become close.
The nurse types into her computer. "What's your name, and why was she admitted?"
"Chris Irvine. Stacy was admitted for," I take a deep breath. "Severe head trauma."
She finally takes a good look at me, her face showing signs of recognition. "Hey, aren't you the one-"
"Yes," I say as quietly as I can. "I'm Chris Jericho, the assclown that put her in here. It was an accident and I just want to see if she's okay." I take a deep breath, willing her to believe me.
She looks at me for a moment longer and then sighs softly. "Room 261, floor number two."
"Thanks," I glance at her name badge. "Thanks a lot, Becky."
"Yeah, well, just don't make me regret giving you the room number."
I stand in front of the closed door of room 261, the bunch of yellow roses that I bought at the hospital's gift shop in my right hand. I raise my hand and pause for a second before softly knocking.
The door swings open and I find myself face to face with her boyfriend, Andrew. He gives me a look that in no short terms tells me to start talking, or else I'm a dead man. "What the hell are you doing here, Chris?" He says quietly, still blocking the doorway. "Come to do more damage? You already gave her a concussion. She's lucky that you didn't do more than that."
"Andrew, man, you know me. You know that I would never do something like that intentionally."
"Chris," His voice is now shaking with rage. "Get out of here. Neither Stacy or I can handle seeing you right now. Leave, and don't come back."
"Fine." I put the flowers on a gurney that happens to be by the door. "Give her these, and tell her." I pause, fighting back tears, "Tell her that I'm really sorry."
Andrew gives me a glare, daring me to follow him inside. He picks up the flowers and walks into her room, closing the door behind him.
I hear Stacy's weak voice from behind the door. "Who was it, 'Drew?"
"No one, Stace. No one at all. Get back to sleep."
Later that night, I return to the hospital. I walk right up to her room, and find that the door is open, and the bed is empty. I walk up to the nurse's station and clear my throat. "Excuse me, miss. Where is the woman who was in room 261 this morning?"
She looks up at me. "She's been moved to another room, sir. What's your name?"
"Chris Irvine."
She types something into the hospital's computer. "I'm sorry sir, but her boyfriend has informed us not to allow you to see her. I'm afraid that you must leave the building."
I nod and wordlessly walk towards the elevator. As I do, I see a pale yellow object in the trash can in Stacy's former room out of the corner of my eye. I glance over at it, and wish that I hadn't. Sitting in the trash can is the bouquet of roses that I had bought for her.
I leave the building and go out to my car, opening the door and sitting down. I put my head on the steering wheel, trying to clear it. My cell phone rings and I reach over and grab it from the dashboard. I wait for the second ring and then pick it up with a sigh. "This had better be good."
"Is that any way to talk to your boss?" Biscoff sounds full of himself, something that he rarely does anymore.
"Biscoff, shouldn't you be worrying about your job. I mean you've only got, what, about twenty days left."
"Twenty days, five hours, seven minutes. But that's not what I called to tell you about." He sounds pissed and I feel a slight smile curl my lips, despite my overwhelming guilt. If there's one thing that I love, it's torturing Eric Bitch-off. "I'm calling to tell you that you have until Monday off-"
"Really?" I try not to sound shocked and fail miserably. "Thanks, Eric, I-"
"-You didn't let me finish. I have an idea." I can hear the triumph in his voice, and I can almost visualize the fake smile that he has plastered on his face. This can't be good. "You're going to play this off like it's Test and Stacy's fault that she got hurt. You can slip an apology in there somewhere, but you will blame them."
"But Eric. I can't. I mean."
"Chris, either you do it, or you join your friend Raven in the unemployment office. RAW has no room for dead weight right now. You can get your tag team partner to help you, but this will happen Monday night." The phone goes dead. I've never heard Bitch-off say goodbye on the phone. He prefers to have the last word.
I toss my phone on the passenger seat, and put my head back down onto the steering wheel. I have a feeling that this situation is only going to get worse.