The celebrity

Chapter 8

Y/N POV  (TW mental health- depression, PTSD, body dysmorphia)

I open my eyes and look around; there's no one in sight. At that point I begin to feel a soreness in my arm, I look to see a tube connecting me to the machine and drag it out, which triggered the machine to beep. From over the corridor, I can see Scarlett she looks like she is about to run up to me but stops at the front of the entryway. The hospital light glimmers off her face, uncovering overwhelming dark circles beneath her eyes.

It looks like she hasn't slept in days

At first, I don't hear her since seeing her reminds me of her telling me that she loves me. She grins.
"Huh?" I ask, raising my brows.
"I asked whether you were okay?"
"Oh yeah, I'm fine; being struck by a car has never felt better."
She chuckles. Her laughter is so pure and airy.
I decide not to bring up her three-letter word remark from earlier.
"What are we?" I mutter without thinking.
She pulls out a chair to sits beside my bed and asks, "What do you mean?"
I point my finger between us and say, "This."
"I'm not sure, do we have to label it?"
"I believe we do, and if being in a coma taught me anything, it is that I am not about to get in the way of a marriage or tear apart a loving family."
She remained motionless, her gaze fixed on the ground.
"What do you want, Scarlett?"
"You."
"And what about your husband?"
"I'm not sure."
"Well, you'll have to find out because I'm not the kind of girl you can come to whenever you choose." I ask irritably, "Do you still love him?"
I know I have no right to ask but I want to know.
"Of course, but not in that sense."
I give her a puzzled look
"I'll tell him eventually, just give me some time, okay?"
"Fine but I'm not gonna wait forever."

When I notice her sitting uncomfortably in the chair, I pat the space in the bed with me. She approaches the empty space on the bed and sits; we are now pressed beside one another. We sit in silence for a while but it's not awkward it's comfortable. She then asked, "Do you want to talk about the night of the accident?"
"No, not at all," I answer quickly
There is now a deafening silence. "So, what happened while you were in a coma?"
"I saw my parents and let's just say they didn't have the best marriage," I sighed, "but I miss them."
"Do they live in another country or something?"
I take a breather and look at the wall.
"They're dead," I whisper
"I'm sorry." She replies
"Why you weren't the drunk driver that night."
"Yeah, but I understand your parent situation; my parents divorced when I was 13, so it was difficult."
She pauses as if debating whether or not to tell me more.
"It's fine, you don't have to tell me anything else."
Scarlett slides her hand down my arm until her fingers interlock with mine. I look down at our clasped hands. Scarlett is staring at me intently as I look up. "Wha-" I say, her lips capture mines. I wrap my arms around her neck until a nurse arrives and informs me that I can be released later today. Scarlett's phone pings as she receives a text, as she pulls her phone out of her pocket, her expression changing from excitement to seriousness.

"I have to get going," she says."Oh ok." I say flatly "Can I pick you up when you get discharged later?" she asks as she rises from the bed."Sure." My thoughts are all that remain after she leaves, leaving me alone with my own thoughts.

Should I be getting involved with Scarlett? To make matters worse, Scarlett is the exact opposite of a stress-relieving person and my life has enough of that as it is.

Melissa pays me a visit, but she only stays for a few minutes and we only talk about whether I'm okay or not, and to be honest, I'm over that question. Since the accident, I've just felt lost, as if a part of me died when I was hit by that car. Maybe a part of me wanted to get hit that night.