Author's Notes: Yes. I finally updated. Sorry I haven't. School crazy. Guys morons. Me stressed, sleep-deprived, and overburdened... But here's a fun little chapter I especially enjoyed writing... So please review and make my day?
I feel my daughter's body lying halfway on mine. I wish she would let me sleep. I'm dead tired. Forty hours in the ER is enough to kill a person, or make them consider suicide. Her hands push my aching muscles, and her head makes my head pound. I do not want to get up, I really don't. I know I promised Jack we would be at the Charity Gala, but I do not want to go for anything. My head aches, my back hurts, and there is no way I'm going to be able to get myself together to look presentable, and smile, and look like I really want to be there. Because I really don't. She keeps pushing me and prodding me, I keep pulling the pillow over my head. Her whining voice is driving me up a wall. Anybody want to toss me a bottle of Aspirin? I push her off, and I stand up, just to have the ringing phone to add to my list of things pissing me off. I grab it off the receiver, and Jack's voice questions the speaker.
"Hey dad."
"Abby, I need to be at the hall an hour earlier. There's some malfunctions going on. I know you're not ready, but Millie probably is. I can take her and let you sleep an extra forty-five minutes, but you would need to pick up John on your way to the hall."
Well an extra forty five minutes of sleep for the sacrifice of taking a ten minute drive with Carter. I'll take the sacrifice. I need my sleep. I hear Millie walking around outside in her heels, she is definitely ready. She hates getting dressed up for these things, but I know she loves to please her Grandpa. She'd do anything for him. I turn around and turn the light off.
"Sounds like a deal. I'll see you later."
I turn off the phone and throw it against the other pillow to my side. I don't care. I call Millie into my room to give her a run-through. She walks in, she looks absolutely stunning. She has a black dress on, low heels, and hair down on her shoulders. I approve. I greatly approve. I wish I could just throw on any old dress and look fabulous in it. I never had that talent.
"Grandpa's going to be here any minute. Take a sweater, take your keys, and stay close to him."
She rolls her eyes and nods her head. She walks over to me, giving me a kiss and covering my body with the rest of the blanket I kicked off halfway. Too bad she didn't just let me sleep. That would have been so much nicer. I see her lean over and set my alarm clock, I need to be up in about forty minutes now.
"Bye baby, I'll see you in a while."
She heads out the door, and I hear the clank of the lock as she makes her way out of the house and down into the lobby to wait for her grandfather. At least that's one less thing I need to worry about. She'll have a great time with Jack. I lay back down on the pillow. My eyes are closing without my consent, but that's what I get. We need a new resident or attending. I keep telling Kerry that, but no one listens to me. I'm just a slave. A slave that is deprived of everything. But most importantly, sleep.
The alarm buzzes, and I want to shut it off and continue sleeping. That's not an option. Jack would kill me if I didn't show up. Well, not exactly kill. I would need a really good excuse. He might get a little mad at me though. These things mean a lot to him, even more so now. Well whatever, it comes with the family. I've been dealing with this for as long as I can remember, one night a year isn't going to kill me. It makes Jack happy. So let it be. I roll out of bed, and straight to the shower. I don't have time for coffee, or caffeine, or a cigarette. I hop into the lukewarm water, quickly wetting my hair and running the shampoo and conditioner through it. I lather the sponge and quickly skim my body. I don't have the time for a nice long shower. I get out, drying my hair as best I can with the towel. I grab the dryer. No one would approve of the way I blow dry my hair, but I don't care anymore. I'm going to twist it into an up do anyway. I dry the roots to the ends, then brush it out a few times. My hair is weak, and its starting to come out more and more. I can't do anything about it. I don't want to. I put it into a French Twist and put in a black barrette. It looks decent.
I throw on some eyeliner, lipliner eyeshadow, mascara, and a little foundation. I don't care, I have no one to impress. I glance at the clock. I have fifteen minutes before I have to be out the door. I check my reflection in the mirror. I look fine for my age, my status, and my occupation. Those bags under my eyes are definitely not going away anytime soon. I go into my closet, pulling out my black dress. I have a few, but this one is my favorite, and I know I can still fit in it. I step into it and pull the zipper up along the side. I take my black heels from the door and slide into them. I take a glance at myself, fully clothed and ready to go. I look just presentable. I grab my shawl from the bed, and my purse from the counter. Out the door I go.
So the ride to the mansion isn't a long one, but the weather is being a pain. The sky is overcast, and its extremely chilly, even for the end of October. It takes me about thirteen minutes to get to the grounds, and I pull up in front. I would be expecting him to be waiting, but of course he's not. I turn off the car, and get out. I'm getting a little annoyed. I do not want to be here, I don't' want to be going to the gala, and I don't want to see my ex-husband. I don't' want to pretend I like half the people I meet, and I don't want to be wearing clothes that make me chilled to the bone. A roll of thunder makes me jump a little before Carter opens the door.
He's dressed but still fussing with his tie. I put my keys down on the side table, my purse still on my shoulder. I push him into the kitchen in silence, I need light to tie the perfect bow. I push his head up and quickly do the loops, pass it through, and pull. It looks good. I haven't lost my touch yet.
"Ready?"
He nods his head and I start toward the door. He grabs his suit jacket and follows on my heels. I open the door and before I walk out, turn the lock. He follows me, and I let him pass me before I shut the huge doors. They make a satisfying clunk, and I start toward the car. I pull open my purse, reaching for my keys. We're running about five minutes late, but I don't think that Jack is going to mind. I pull on the round part of my key chain, but instead my lipstick comes out. I'm freezing now. I put my purse on the car, emptying out the contents. I never knew such a small purse could hold so much useless crap. And the one useful thing I need, I can't find. I turn the purse upside down. My keys aren't in there. My keys are not in my purse. I must have... Damn it. I left them on the table by the door. Damn it.
"I left my keys on the table. Do you have yours?"
I see him suddenly freeze, and then look at me with this astonishing gaze. I'm going to take that as a no. What kind of grown man leaves his house without taking his goddamn keys? What is he? Like three years old again? Damn it. It's freezing. I hear a loud crash of thunder, and I look up just fast enough to see the sky light up, and suddenly everything becomes grey. Then wet. Its pounding down on me now, just because the fates hate me. It's those huge water droplets that hurt like all hell when they hit bare flesh, and there's quite a bit of it on me right now. I should have brought a coat or a sweater, anything better than what I have right now. So we're stuck in the pounding rain, in the middle of a thunderstorm, without any keys to the house or to the car. Just my day. Just my wonderful life.
"I think the back door might be open."
God, he finally thought of and said something useful. I look toward the edge of the house, it's a nice little walk through grass and mud, no shade, nothing. He's a moron, he's such a moron there needs to be a better word for it. I feel my hair setting down my shoulders, dripping the freezing rain down my back. Everything's clinging to my body, soaked to the core. I'm actually shivering now. I'm not standing here any longer. I start toward the backdoor, and then realize heels were never meant for wading through dirt. I don't care anymore. I want to get inside, in a nice pair of sweat pants. I am not going to any gala, I am not going anywhere but home. I will probably catch pneumonia.
With every step I take, it seems to get hard and faster. The wind just picked up. Great, wonderful, just what I hoped for. I see the lights from the kitchen flickering on and off, but at least they are there and I know how far I have to go with this idiot behind me. I start to almost run, I'm going to fall into hypothermia pretty soon. God why did I decide to come here? Why did I decide to do this? I hate my life, I hate Carter, I hate Chicago weather. Damn it. The doors are within distance, only a couple more feet. The lights are out, the generator never got fixed either. So great, the house is going to be without any power for at least a few hours. I look up at the window.
Then I suddenly see the sky, with a rippling pain shooting through my right leg, my butt, and my back. My ankle is throbbing as all hell, and the moist ground underneath me tells me I'm on the floor. It hurts. It hurts as all hell, and I want to get out of all this so badly. I want to go home and never get out of bed, ever again. I close my eyes, the tears welling from pain and frustration, I can taste blood in my mouth. I either bit my tongue or lip, I'll place my bets on my lip. I try to pick myself up, but I can't make it. I can't do it, the pain is ripping through my body in waves, I suddenly feel lightheaded. I think I broke my ankle, and that's not the diagnosis I want to give myself.
I feel Carter's arms wrap around me and I'm suddenly holding onto him for dear life. His body shields me from the pounding rain, and I'm digging my nails into him, trying to bear the pain that's sending me into spasms.I can't feel anything anymore, the pain is all I can think of. The cold is making me shiver like never before, I can't do this. I can see the door getting closer and closer until I can't see anything but blackness and everything begins to blur, and fade away....
My eyes open, and suddenly a fit of pain shoots through my right leg. I sit up more, I'm on the couch. I'm in the mansion. I'm surrounded by candles. I was kidnaped, raped, and now left for dead. I just know it. I lean up more, and I get a slap of cold, wet hair against my neck and back. I jump up, digging my ankle against the sofa, and suddenly I let out a frustrated, painful sob. I can't help it, I don't care anymore about what anyone thinks. It hurts like nothing has ever before. I have no clue what's going, the last thing I remember is rain. And Carter. I look around but I can't find him. A blanket covers my body. Oh god, do not tell me he undressed me. I reach under the covers, I'm in a set of dry clothes. What in the world is going on, someone please get me out of this hell. I try to sit up, but my ankle prevents me from doing that. I hear footsteps coming into the room, and suddenly Carter walks in, candle in one hand, a cup of some steaming liquid in the other. He walks closer to me and sets it down. I look at him, at the room again. The fireplace is on, warming it slightly. But I'm still freezing. The blanket I have is not enough. He sits down on the opposite edge of the sofa, and he takes my foot into his hands. I want to kick him, but it hurts to move it at all. He's not worth the spasms of pain. He presses on the bone, by the muscle. Things I've done millions of times before, and so has he. I didn't think he remembered, I don't know what to think anymore. I don't want to think anymore. I see him reach toward the table and take some gauze. He centers my foot gently, I'm more concerned about what the hell he thinks he's doing that the throbbing pain. He wraps it up tightly, and puts a pillow under it to elevate the blood flow.
"It's not broken. You twisted it pretty badly."
I'll make the judgement call myself. I actually remember the hell that was medical school. But right now, it hurts too much to lean forward. If you want to take care of me, drug me! I need some type of pain killer; Advil, Tylenol, Valium, Morphine. Whatever you got lying around will be just fine with me, but make this pain go away. And turn the heat on for Christsake. I think he wants to kill me so he can take the kids and sell them into white slavery or something. He wants to see me suffer then die. I see the room starts to spin a little, and I lie my head back down. I see him appear at my side, kneeling by me. He pushes away the wet hair from my face, and his hand skims my forehead. I have a fever, I know I have a fever. Its because its like below zero outside and freezing inside, and my body wants the warmth. I need heat.
I watch him walk toward the hallway, and a few second later he returns with a blanket in hand. He throws it over the one I already have, but it does nothing. I'm still freezing. I'm still hurting. I'm still cold and wet and hungry. I'm still alone and miserable. I'm still here. Why am I still here? I think the fates are against me. I mean if they wanted to kill me, they would have done it already. But they don't. They think it's fun to torture poor Abby. What did I ever do to them? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I try to wrap my body into the fetal position, but I can't do it. My back hurts as much as my ankle does. I see Carter sitting on the floor at my side, starring off in the fire. For a second, a split second, I might feel a little pity for him. All he was trying to do was help me. Okay, so I can give in tonight and be nice to him, right? It won't do any harm. But tomorrow morning, I'm yelling at him for being a complete idiotic stupidass and not having his keys. If he hadn't forgotten his keys we wouldn't have gotten into this mess. What the hell am I going on about we? I wouldn't be where I am right now.
I scoot over making room for him on the couch, even though it's enough to seat four people comfortably. He notices me shifting, and turn around, giving me a strange gaze. I pull out the blanket over myself, and he slowly gets the hint to get on the couch before I change my mind. I let him stretch out his legs and I lean into him, his arms resting on my stomach. I'm lying on his chest, my head finding a nice, soft position and claiming it as my own. His body is warm against my freezing one, and I can feel myself warming up, even though my hands and arms are still shaking. No other reason do I have for spending the night like this except for survival. He blows out the candles, and the only glow in the room is from the fireplace. I feel his warm lips against my forehead for a second, before I slightly shift. I'm comfortable, but not that comfortable. He still is half a stranger, he still is my ex-husband, he still is a part of my forgotten past. I'll deal with it in the morning. Right now I need my much needed sleep. And my eyes aren't staying open another minute longer.