Wronged

? 26 ?

I take a breath of relief at that.

"And we can head over there now. He's not sleeping...he um..." Dakota scratches the back of his neck, pausing. I wait, anticipating what he is going to say next. "He says he isn't leaving until he sees you again. He says he needs to see you, Anna."

I gulp and blink away the tears that were going to form in my eyes. I stop any from falling and nod, sniffing once. I rub underneath my eyes just in case any liquid can be seen. I don't feel any though.

"Okay. Let's go."

~

I've never liked hospitals. They make me jealous, as weird as that sounds. It's because when I was tormented and harmed, I was never taken to a hospital. While everyone was getting checkups for simple things like colds and eye exams, I was bleeding out or being beaten without any medical assistance prepared for me. I suffered. Everyone else got to get better, as long as they weren't terminally ill. That's another story.

In St. Mary's hospital, the rooms and lobby and waiting room all smell like medications and different prescribed drugs. There are four people in the waiting room with me and Dakota as my foot taps impatiently against the white tiles that are speckled with these odd and tiny green flake things. Everything is making my antsy. Everything from the water jug bubbling to the receptionist's phone ringing to the little girl on her mother's lap who is clapping over and over again about nothing in particular. It all makes me nervous.

Dakota notices this, and sighs. He gently lays a hand on my arm. "Anna, he's fine. I promise."

I stare into his truthful eyes for a moment. It's weird how I can see the difference between then and now. When he was a young kid, his eyes were only half-truthing. Now, they're full-blown honest.

I release a breath and nod, stopping my foot from tapping. My right hand curls into a tight fist instead, which is less crazy-looking and calmer thing for me to do. Even if my nails dig into my palms, it doesn't matter to me. The wait is deridingly murderous.

After ten minutes and thirty-two seconds, doctor with jet black hair and deep brown eyes approaches us, a small smile on his lips. He has a clipboard. "You must be Anna Morgan and Dakota Cardale," he greets. I bite my tongue to refrain from correcting him. By blood, I'll always be a Cardale. Even though I hate that it reminds me of my father, it's another one of those things that no one can take away from me. "I'm Dr. Rein. Aiden is in his room now, but he is tired and loopy on medications. However, you can still visit if you'd like."

I nod immediately, standing up. I probably smell like rain and my hair is still wet, but at least it's put up. I also must have the appearance of a hobo, but it doesn't really matter. There are people in here wearing gowns with their asses hanging out, so I'm not concerned.

"I want to see him," I say. Dakota sighs and stands up next to me, stretching a little.

"Great," Dr. Rein says warmly. "Follow me."

We do as we are told and follow the man in the white coat, my thoughts running wild and my stomach mixing lethal components inside. He probably doesn't even want me here...but he said he wasn't going to sleep or be discharged until he saw me. I'm so confused. Due to his tone in the street hours ago, I thought he hated me. Although, he could've been under extreme frustration. Possibly, it wasn't directed at me.

We approach a door with the number twelve on it, and Dr. Rein opens it up, holding it for me and Dakota. My brother thanks him quietly as we step inside and he leaves, but I'm already staring at Aiden with wide eyes and a shattered heart.

His eyes are closed, and he has an IV drip in his arm. His shirt is off, four white bandaged patches connecting onto his toned abdomen. I can see a light shade of brown peeking through them, most likely due to blood that's slowly stopping thanks to whatever meds they gave him and the surgery conducted.

It's not as dramatic as I'd pictured it, at least. There's no tubes in him except for the drip, and there isn't a heart monitor anywhere. It's just a simple hospital room with a bed and an IV stand. The only thing that hurts me is the shape he's in.

The events of earlier are forgotten, and I instantly rush to his side. I take in his features. They're still the same as my memories have stored them, but I notice a new scar about a centimeter long, and of course his face is bruised and his chest is patched up. But he's still beautiful.

"Aiden," I say quietly, but not in a whisper.

He tries to force his eyelids open, but they struggle to do so. They're fidgety and fluttering, and his eyes are rolling in different directions. They really have him drugged up.

"You're here," He says, voice hushed and raspy. He swallows, clearly dehydrated. And as if Dakota knew this too, he rushed to the sink and grabbed a plastic clear cup from the stack. He filled it up and handed it to me.

I tip the cup to his lips, and he drinks small sips that I give him. "I am."

"Why?" He asks, unable to keep his eyes open anymore. His face is directed to me though. "I'm an impulsive asshole."

I shrug. "True. But I'm still in love with you— an impulsive asshole."

I hear the door click shut, and only then to I realize Dakota had left. I look away from the door and lock eyes with Aiden. They are certainly open now, and they're burning intensely.

I swallow once and stare back, nerves riling up again.

"What did you say?" He whispers.

My lips move around, but I can't speak. I eventually manage. "I...I'm still in love with you."

Shock registers through me.

I didn't even notice I'd said those words myself.

•••
A/N:
And so she realizes distance isn't going to solve her emotional attachment.