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When I awoke, I wasn’t in my room anymore. It took me a minute to realize I was laying in a hospital bed, with an IV in my arm. There were bandages all over my arms, and I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. I tried to sit up, but my body protested, and I laid back against the pillows. Lisa was sleeping in a chair beside the bed. I reached over and shook her leg gently.

“You’re awake,” she said, giving me a sleepy smile. “You had me worried, you jerk.”

“Why am I here?” I asked, realizing I had almost no voice left. My throat burned.

“You’ve been out cold for almost three days,” she said, handing me a cup of water. I downed it eagerly and handed her the cup back so she could refill it.

“Three days?” I said, not sure I’d heard her right. “That can’t be.”

“I came home Wednesday morning and found you on the floor in your room, laying in a pile of broken glass,” she said. “You were bleeding, and I couldn’t wake you up, so I called an ambulance. You’ve been here ever since.”

I tried to remember if I’d fallen on the floor where the glass from the mirror had been, but I just didn’t know. That would explain the bandages on my arms, though. “What did the doctor say when I got here?” I asked, my voice not quite as hoarse now that I’d had something to drink.

“You’ve had stitches for a few of the cuts on your arms and legs,” she said. “And you banged your head pretty good when you fell. You were dehydrated, and I’m guessing from what I found in your garbage can, that’s why. Your fluids are normal again, thanks to the IV in your arm, and you shouldn’t have scars when the cuts heal.” She paused and studied my face for a moment. “Charlie, what the hell happened? Why did you destroy your room, and why were you laying there like that?”

I turned my face away from her, not wanting to admit that I’d lost control over losing Orlando again. I never thought I was the type to hurt myself, whether intentional or not, over something like this, and I was embarrassed and ashamed by it.

“I know what happened with Orlando,” Lisa said when I didn’t answer her. “Is that what this is about?”

“How do you know?” I asked, not facing her yet.

“I called him when you were admitted,” she said. “I thought he should know, because I didn’t know what had happened at his hotel.”

“He didn’t care, did he?” I rasped, aching at the idea that I was laying in a hospital bed and he just couldn’t care less anymore.

“Just the opposite, actually,” she said, though she sounded surprised herself. I looked at her. “He was here within fifteen minutes, and he hasn’t left since, except to grab a change of clothes and food now and then. He’s downstairs in the cafeteria right now.”

“I don’t want him here, Lisa,” I said, reaching up a bandaged hand to brush away the damned tears that had started again. “I don’t want him feeling sorry for me because I turned into a nutcase. Tell him to leave, okay? Make him go away.”

“Somehow I don’t think it’s going to be that easy, honey,” she said softly. “He thinks it’s his fault you’re here, and he said he didn’t mean whatever it was that made you go off like this. Shouldn’t you at least talk to him? I mean, the poor guy’s been sleeping in a chair for three days.”

I shook my head vehemently, then stopped when it started to ache. “No,” I said as forcefully as I could manage. “We’re finished for good, so there’s nothing left to say. I don’t want him here because he feels guilty. That’s worse than what happened at the hotel.”

“Then you tell him that,” she said, standing up and stretching. “I’m not getting in the middle of this. You want him to go, you tell him. I’m going to go call Nick and Adam and tell them you’re awake.” She left the room.

A nurse came in a short while later to check my bandages. “You’re very lucky your friend found you when she did,” the nurse, whose nametag read ‘Colleen,’ said as she unwound the bandage on my left arm. The gash she revealed on my forearm, complete with eight stitches, was gruesome and I had to look away. Colleen cleaned it as gently as she could, but it still stung like crazy and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

“When can I go home?” I asked when she was re-wrapping my arm after she’d cleaned the smaller cuts as well as the large one.

“Not for a few days yet,” she said, starting on my right arm. The cut on my upper arm only had five stitches in it, but it was just as gross as the other one. There were four or five smaller cuts surrounding it, too.

“Why not?”

“Because the doctor wants you kept under observation for a few more days,” she said, using a cloth to gently clean my arm. “When he’s sure you’re able to take care of yourself again, you can go home. For now, you get to enjoy our hospitality a little bit longer.” She sighed. “Most patients we have would stay here for months if it meant having Orlando Bloom sitting by their bedside night and day.” She gave me a sheepish look as she began re-wrapping my right arm.

“I don’t want him to be allowed in here,” I said quickly, wincing as she pulled the bandage extra tight.

“Why not?” she asked, looking at me like I was crazy, which, presumably, she already thought I was from the condition I’d entered the hospital in. “Honey, I may be old enough to be your mother, but I still know a love-sick man when I see one. That boy’s got it bad for you.”

I shook my head. “Not anymore, he doesn’t,” I said, looking away from her, out the window. “Please, don’t let him in my room anymore. I don’t care how handsome or sweet he is, I don’t want to see him.”

“You’ll have to discuss that with the doctor,” Colleen said, throwing back my blankets and lifting my nightgown so she could deal with the large bandage on the outside of my left thigh. When she’d removed it, I saw the largest gash of all, with thirteen stitches in it. The skin around it was a dark purple colour, and the bruising extended down my leg, past my knee. I guessed that’s where I’d hit the floor the hardest when I fell. I sucked in my breath when she gently washed the wound and wrapped it in a clean bandage.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning to do this again,” she said, then gathered her cleaning supplies and left the room. I settled back against my pillows and closed my eyes, wincing as the tears started to fall.

Dr. Cuthbert, the doctor I’d seen when Sean had almost raped me, came into my room an hour or so later. He gave me a kind smile, but I could tell he was worried about me.

“You gave us quite a shock, Charlie,” he said, grabbing my chart from the holder on the wall near the end of the bed. “Luckily it looked worse than it is. I used the finest thread and the smallest needles I could, so there should be minimal scarring. The bruising will fade in a week or two, there was no internal damage that I could tell.” He paused and sat down beside my bed. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

I took a deep breath. Dr. Cuthbert had always been so kind to me, he’d never seemed like the judgmental type, so I figured honesty was my best bet.

“I lost control over my anger,” I started, fighting to keep my voice from shaking. “And I threw a tantrum. I broke the mirror in my bedroom, and I guess when I collapsed on the floor, I fell into the broken glass on the carpet.”

“You didn’t mean to hurt yourself?” He studied me.

“No, not at all,” I said quickly. “It was an accident that I fell into the glass.”

“Why were you so angry?”

“Orlando and I have been having some problems,” I admitted, since he knew most of my history with Orlando. “And we finally broke up for good. I didn’t know how else to handle it.”

“How do you feel about it now?” Dr. Cuthbert asked softly, writing something on my chart.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” I said honestly. “I know he’s been here, but I’d prefer if he weren’t allowed in my room anymore.”

“I guess what I’m asking you, Charlie, is whether or not I can send you home without worrying that something like this could happen again,” Dr. Cuthbert said, meeting my eyes, his tone and face very serious.

“It won’t happen again,” I assured him. “It wasn’t even supposed to happen once.”

“And if you get angry again?”

“Now that I know what can happen when I lose control like that, I’ll be able to manage it better,” I said quietly. I didn’t like the idea that there was enough anger inside of me to cause me to be in the hospital. The stinging pain in my leg and arms were enough of a reminder that I had to let out that anger constructively, rather than destructively, like I had.

“You’ve always been so level-headed,” Dr. Cuthbert said, getting up and putting my chart back on the wall. “I was shocked when Lisa and Orlando told me what had happened. I don’t want to keep you here any longer than necessary, but I need to know that you’ll be okay alone.” He sighed. “As for keeping Orlando out of your room, I supposed we can, but it’s not going to be easy. He’s been here day and night since you were admitted. It’s none of my business, Charlie, but you should at least talk to him.”

“Just keep him out, okay?” I said, looking out the window again.

“I’ll look in on you tomorrow,” Dr. Cuthbert said, and I heard the door close behind him a few seconds later.

I spent the next day or so drifting in and out of sleep. Colleen told me it was because of the pain medication that was dripping into my IV. Lisa, Nick, Adam, and Jeremy all passed through my room, visiting for awhile, but for the most part I was alone. Orlando tried to come in, but the hospital staff sent him away, as I’d requested. I could see him in the doorway, his face showing the hurt he was feeling when the nurses threatened to have him physically removed from the hospital if he didn’t go willingly. I turned my head away before he could see the tears that had started again.

“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually,” Lisa said a few days after that incident. “He’s been at the apartment since you had him kicked out of here.” She shook the nail polish she was going to use on my fingernails.

“Why are you letting him stay in our apartment?”

“Because I think you’re being unreasonable, and I feel bad for him,” she said, smoothing the emerald green polish onto my fingernail. I had to keep my fingernails painted green for the show, and we’d found nail polish to be more effective and less of a pain in the neck than my skin paint. I wanted to be as normal as possible, so I was having Lisa paint them.

“How am I being unreasonable?” I asked, watching her swift strokes just to avoid looking at the disapproval on her face.

“Do you honestly believe that if he didn’t want to be with you, he’d be hanging around like he has been?” she said, reloading the nail polish brush. “He delayed his return to his movie set just to stay and make sure you were okay, and now he’s living in our apartment, waiting for you to come home.”

“You said it yourself, though, he feels guilty,” I pointed out. “I don’t want him here because he feels responsible for this.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s why he’s here,” she said. “But I’m not getting in the middle of this again. I told him that, and I’m telling you the same thing.”

“Good,” I said, laying back against my pillows as she finished with my nails. “Because there’s nothing to be in the middle of.” I sighed. “Let’s talk about something else, okay? I hate talking about Orlando all the time.”

“Fine,” she said, moving back to the chair beside the bed.

We chatted for awhile about her wedding plans, which she’d already started to make. She wasn’t wasting any time.

“I’m thinking a dark orange for the bridesmaids dresses,” she was saying as she pulled a magazine out of her purse. She opened it to a page that was marked with a Post-It and pointed out a beautiful strapless cocktail-length dress with a full skirt, an organza ruffle around the bottom, and a thin belt that buckled in the front. “The dress will be burnt orange,” she indicated a colour on the pallet on the right side of the page, “and the belt will be forest green,” she pointed to said colour. “But my maid of honour will wear a forest green dress with a burnt orange belt.” She looked up from the magazine. “Does that sound good?”

I nodded. “I like the colours,” I said, looking at the beautiful dress. It was definitely something Lisa would wear herself, and I loved it.

“Green has always looked good on you,” she joked as she put the magazine away. “I was kind of hoping you’d be my maid of honour?”
My grin was so wide it made my cheeks hurt. “Of course I will,” I said, leaning over to hug her. “I’d be honoured.”

“Good,” she said. We giggled like teenagers. “I’ll be so glad when you’re out of this dismal place,” she said, making a face as she looked around at the white walls.

“At least I got my own room,” I said, adjusting my pillows behind me. “I couldn’t handle having some stranger sleeping in the same room with me.”

“You can thank Orlando for that,” Lisa said, pulling a nail file from her bag. “Our health insurance doesn’t cover private rooms, so he signed some form saying he’d pay for one.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?” I said, sitting up in the bed. “I can afford my own room, you know.” I’d told her all about my inheritance, so she knew I wasn’t poor.

“He didn’t want me to,” she said, shrugging as she filed her nails. “I thought we weren’t talking about him.”

We changed the subject back to her wedding, and eventually to the show. When visiting hours ended, Colleen shooed Lisa from the room, changed my bandages again, and left me alone for the night. As soon as the door closed behind her, I reached for my purse and pulled out my cell phone. I dialed my home number

“Hello?” Orlando answered on the second ring.

“I should have known you’d be cocky enough to answer my phone,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Charlie? How are you feeling, love?” he said, ignoring my rude comment. “I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“How do you know I wasn’t calling for Lisa?” I asked, trying to control the snootiness in my voice and failing miserably. “You don’t actually live there, remember?”

“Lisa’s not home,” he said, sounding slightly crestfallen. “I think she’s staying at Jeremy’s again.”

“I didn’t call to talk to her,” I said. “I want to know what it’s costing you for my private room here. I’m paying you back every penny.”

“No, you’re not,” he said sternly. “You weren’t even supposed to know about it. And besides, it’s not something you should be worrying about right now.”

“I’m not letting you pay my way, Orlando,” I said. “I wouldn’t when we were together, so I’m certainly not going to now.”

“Why won’t you let me visit you?” he asked, ignoring what I’d said.

“Because I don’t want to see you,” I said simply, fighting to keep my voice nonchalant. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Don’t you miss me even a little bit?” he asked, his voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear him.

I sighed. “What good would that do?” I said, shocked at the wave of sadness that swept through me. “We both decided it wasn’t fair to either of us to try to make this work. Why would I let myself miss you?”

“Charlie, what we have is one of those rare things that comes along once in a lifetime,” he said, his voice thick and hoarse, like he was pushing away tears.

“What we had,” I corrected him. “And I’m sure we’ll find it again with other people. It wasn’t that special.” I almost choked on the lie as it came out of my mouth, but managed to control myself.

“I know you don’t believe that,” he said sadly. “Look, can I just come and visit you tomorrow before I go? Just for a few minutes?”

“You’re leaving?” I couldn’t help but sound surprised.

“I have to get back to the set,” he said. “I’ve taken too much time off as it is, and if you’re not going to let me see you, I may as well go back to work.”

“Fine,” I said. “Come by tomorrow morning and I’ll give you a check for my room. And I still need to pay you back for my Tony dress, so I’ll just add that to it.”

“If that’s what it takes for you to let me see you, then fine,” he said, though he sounded agitated. “I’ll be there in the morning. Good night.” He hung up.

I closed my cell phone and stared out the window at the moonlight. I knew the next day was going to be a very long one.

When Colleen brought my breakfast tray into my room the next morning, I was eagerly sitting up in bed, waiting for her.

“You look sunny this morning,” she commented as she placed the tray on my table.

“Am I allowed to shower?” I asked, taking the lid off my tea cup. “I feel kind of gross sitting here in my own filth. It’s been almost a week.”

“You’ve had a sits bath every day,” she pointed out, unwrapping the bandage on my left arm. “You shouldn’t feel too bad.”

“My hair hasn’t been washed in a week,” I complained, reaching up to touch my greasy ponytail. “Is there any way I can wash myself without getting my stitches wet?”

“You can lean over the sink in the bathroom and wash your hair that way,” she suggested as she wrapped a new bandage around my arm. The cuts were no longer in need of a wash every day, so she just changed the dressings. “Dr. Cuthbert doesn’t want you showering for another day or two.”

“I guess that’ll have to do,” I said, picking up a piece of toast from my tray.

“We’ll take care of it when I clear your breakfast tray,” she said, moving to my other side. She dealt with my other dressings quickly, and hurried from the room. I quickly reached over to the phone on the wall and dialed Lisa’s cell phone.

“I need a favour,” I said when she answered. “Can you bring me a change of clothes, please?”

“What for?” she asked. She sounded half asleep, so I was pretty sure I’d woken her up. It was barely eight o’clock. “You have a million pairs of pajamas.”

“I don’t want pajamas,” I said, knowing I sounded like an obstinate child. “I need real clothes. And a hairbrush. And whatever else it will take to make me feel human again.”

“Why do you need to feel human?” she asked, stifling a yawn. “You’re in the hospital, for crying out loud.”

“Orlando’s coming this morning,” I said, somewhat irritated. Just because I was in the hospital didn’t mean I wouldn’t want to feel as normal as possible. “I don’t want to look like a troll when he gets here.”

“I thought you didn’t want to see him?” Now she was just being difficult.

“I told him to come so I can pay him for my room and my Tony dress,” I said, getting exasperated.

“And why do you need to be dressed up?” I could tell she was enjoying this.

“I just figure if I’m going to have company, I should be dressed for it,” I said, but it sounded lame, even to me.

“So Orlando’s ‘company’ now, is he?” she teased.

“Are you going to bring me some clothes or not?” I said, my agitation getting the better of me.

“Give me an hour,” she said, chuckling.

When Colleen came back for my breakfast tray, she helped me out of bed and into a wheelchair. The cut on my leg made it hard to walk, because I couldn’t put weight on it yet. Dr. Cuthbert had told me it would be another week or so before I could walk normally again.

I was wheeled into the bathroom adjoining my room, and parked in front of the sink. I stood up gingerly, leaning on the sink for support, while Colleen put a lift on the seat of the chair, to make it so that I could reach the sink while sitting down. She brought my shampoo from the overnight bag Lisa had brought for me while I was unconscious, and set it on the edge of the sink. I started to wash my hair, but reaching the way I had to was pulling on my stitches, and I couldn’t do it, so Colleen had to do it for me. I sighed as she washed and rinsed my hair for me, then wrapped a towel around my head and wheeled me back into the bedroom.

“Do you want a bath while we’re at it?” she asked, stopping me beside the bed. “It’ll be easier to do it in the chair than in the bed.”

“Yes, please,” I said, nodding. “I want to feel clean again, and if I can’t shower, at least I can wash properly.”

When I was clean and settled back in my bed with fresh pajamas, Colleen gave me my hand mirror and my purse. I was glad I kept a small brush in my purse, or else I wouldn’t have had anything to fix my hair with until Lisa got there, and by that time, it would be so matted, I’d have to wash it again. I did the best I could, then laid back against my pillows to rest. It shocked me how tired I was after so little activity.

Lisa breezed into the room a short while later, carrying a suitcase. “Your clothing has arrived,” she said, grinning like a loon as she put the suitcase on the end of my bed. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I grabbed a bunch of different things.”

I opened the suitcase and pulled out a pair of grey jeans and a turquoise t-shirt. “This is fine,” I said, rummaging around in the bottom of the case for my hair brush.

With Lisa’s help, I managed to be dressed and presentable, with my hair in a ponytail on the back of my head. She wheeled me into the bathroom so I could brush my teeth, and then helped me back into bed. Just as she was putting the wheelchair away, there was a knock at the door.