Our love couldn't go wrong

Chapter Eleven :

Tw for mentions of injury, hospital, and corrupt police

"I-I'm, uh, I'm here for Courtney Miller; I got a call saying she, um, she'd been brought in..."

He's not too sure what he's saying. He doesn't know what's going on right now, heart racing and palms sweating as he waits for the receptionist to respond to him. When she finally looks up at him, she shoots him a small smile that can only be described as sympathetic and he feels his stomach lurch, bile rising in his throat.

All he knows is that he got a call from the hospital not even an hour ago saying that Courtney had been involved in some kind of...incident and that he needed to come down as soon as possible.

"She's in room three, l'll get one of the nurses to take you over, dear. She'll probably need you when the police come back to take her statement." Police? Statement? He mills over what's just been said, trying to fill the gaps. His mind is racing - if the police are coming then that means somebody hurt her, that means it wasn't a random accident but an attack instead, which means...no, he doesn't want to even think about those possibilities. Instead, he thanks the receptionist for her help, before shuffling to the side so he can wait for the nurse. It isn't long before one approaches him.

"Shayne, is it? We've got you listed as Miss Miller's most recent emergency contact - she asked us to call you. I'll show you to her room, but I will warn you, whoever did this did a number on her. It won't be pretty." Omar, the nurse, informs him. The words do nothing to alleviate his worry, but he forces himself to keep his face straight as Omar knocks on the door to a private room. "Miss Miller, I've got Shayne here - am I alright to let him in?"

He doesn't hear Courtney respond, but he can only assume that she nods or something because the next thing he knows, Omar moves aside to let him in. "Vitals are all looking good so I'm going to leave you two alone and give you some privacy for a couple minutes, m'kay? If you need me, just push the call button. I'll give you a heads up when the officers arrive."

The sound of the door clicking shut behind him pulls him out of his trance-like state, eyes shifting over to the bed in the middle of the room where Courtney is.

"Courtney?"

Slowly, he steps towards her, waiting for her to turn towards him. Her head is facing away but he can tell from the hitch of her breath and the way she's shaking that she's crying. It breaks his heart.

He takes another step - pausing about halfway to the bed. Even in the dimly lit room, he can see the dark marks casting her skin, bruises marring her porcelain complexion. "Oh, Courtney." He breathes, fingernails digging into his denim-clad thigh. Anger simmers in his chest the more injuries he sees and she hasn't even turned to look at him, yet. Somebody has done this to her, somebody has hurt her, and he wants to make sure that they'll never lay a finger on her again.

He wants to kill whoever did this to her.

"Promise you won't hate me?" Courtney's voice comes out small; timid. Her words are hesitant and scared, and he breathes deeply before responding.

"I could never hate you, Court," His words are nothing but honest, he knows that, he just hopes that she knows it, too, "I do, however, hate whoever has done this to you. But it isn't your fault, and I promise that I won't be upset with you."

The room falls silent for a second before she turns her face towards him. He forces himself to keep a neutral face.

When Courtney asked him to be her emergency contact a year or so ago, he didn't think too much of it. It made sense, after all. After she moved out of her dad's house and into the city, it took an hour's travel between them and there were just too many variables for her anxiety to handle - what if he was at work? What if there was traffic?
What if it was life and death? He understood her fears and frankly, he was just surprised she trusted him enough to ask him.