Ugly(77)

“No, please don’t.” My own words surprise me. I don’t know why I’m asking him to stay, or even why he’s here to begin with.

Max stands in the far corner, and watches as the nurse checks me over. She leaves quite quickly and tells me she’ll let the doctor know I’m awake again.

“Y-you l-look b-better than you d-did a few days a-ago,” Max says nervously, as he continues to stand in the corner furthest away from me.

“Please, don’t stand over there.” I move my hand to indicate the chair beside the bed. Slowly he moves toward it, his movements are so meticulous and calculated he takes a good minute before he reaches the chair. “You sat with me, didn’t you?”

He looks at me, his intense brown eyes have the most alluring flecks of green to them. They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. They are fierce, and protective. “I did,” he answers with perfect pronunciation. “I had to,” he adds.

‘Had to’? What does that even mean? “I don’t understand.”

“O-one d-day you will.”

My heart jumps and my body prickles with a flush of adrenalin. “I don’t understand,” I say again.

Max smiles and leans forward on the chair. He places his elbows on his knees and links his hands together, dropping his chin to rest on them. “H-how are you f-feeling?” His voice is pure gold. I don’t hear his stutter, just the deep, throaty tone.

“I can’t explain it, Max, really I can’t. Why am I feeling so comfortable around you? I should be freaking out, and shutting down just from your presence. But…I’m not.” I slowly sit up in bed. Max’s eyes intensely watch as I maneuver so I’m sitting. Suddenly I realize how hideous I must look after being in bed for days, not being able to wash or even brush my hair. I can feel the bruising on my face from where I was beaten by whoever broke in.

“Y-you should n-never be frightened b-by me.” Max smiles. My shoulders relax and any confused and unsure feelings I may have had all disintegrate, like ash being carried by a small breeze. His relaxed behavior makes me even more comfortable around him.

A moment later, the door opens and a doctor comes in with the nurse who was just here. Max stands to leave. “Don’t go,” I foolishly say to him. These feelings of complete ease are uncommon and foreign to me. I don’t understand why I’m calm. It doesn’t make any sense, but I like it.

“I-I’ll go and g-get a c-c-coffee. B-but I’ll re-return,” he says as he steps outside.

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Hackly?” The doctor asks as he begins his examination of me.

“I’m okay, just tender and sore.”

“You’re very lucky your husband came home when he did. The wound on the back of your head was extensive. You needed stitches, twenty-one to be exact, they’re dissolvable stitches and should fall out on their own within another week or so.”

We continue talking and he tells to me the police are going to want to talk to me when I’m feeling up for it. My spirits sink at the thought of having to talk to the police. At first I thought it was Trent who did this to me, but he’s convinced me it was a break-in and my memory of the situation is hazy. Because of this, I don’t want to talk to the police and give them muddled information.

The doctor decides I’m not well enough to speak to the police and tells me he’ll tell them to come back tomorrow. He’s given me the all-clear to eat and says if my reactions and vital signs are healthy, then I’ll be able to go home tomorrow.

A few moments after he leaves, Max comes back into the room and stands by the door. I think he’s waiting for an invitation to come sit beside me. “Max, would you like a seat?”

“Thank you,” he says with a smile, and he moves to sit beside me. “So h-how are you f-f-feeling?”

I touch the back of my head where my hair has been shaved and I wince when my fingers run across the bandage over the stitches. “I’m tender and sore, but I’ll live. I’m a tough cookie.” I weakly smile. “It’s just lucky my husband came home when he did.”

“L-l-lucky? Y-you call that lucky?” He points to my head. “L-lucky he d-didn’t k-kill y-you,” he says through a tight, clenched jaw.

“What? Trent didn’t do this, someone broke into our house and did this to me.”

Max’s eyebrows fly up in question, and his top lips snarls in the smallest of ways. “I-is th-that what he t-told you?” I nod my head. “A-and y-you believe h-him?”

“He’s my husband. Why wouldn’t I believe him?” Although I know something’s not right. I can feel the uncertainty of the entire situation deep inside me.