Mr. Hollingsworth.

Ch. 12 Hospitals.

That morning I woke up smelling Mr. Hollingsworth - no, Alexander's Old Spice. My eyes snapped open, and I looked at him, he was shirtless, and god was Mindy right when she said, sexy six pack. "Alexander, put on a shirt, you have a lady in the house!" I complained, closing my eyes. I heard him chuckle, "You don't like my six pack Ms. Jones?" He asked, "Quite the opposite actually. They have a lot of sex appeal Allie." I answered, mentally cursing myself, so I rolled over, hoping the earth would swallow me whole so I could die in peace. Why the fuck would I say that? I cursed myself.

He laughed loudly, "Are you internally dying now Ms. Jones?" He asked, "Not just internally." I responded, he laughed more. Grabbing the nearest trash can, I threw up. "That's disgusting." I commented, as I held the trash can close. "You hold that trash can with more love than you hold me." He complained. I rolled my eyes, "I mean if you want me to throw up on you, you should've just asked. Quite the weird fetish there Mr. Hollingsworth - I mean Alexander, I mean Alex." I stammered, throwing up again. "I see calling by my first name is going to take a while?" He teased. "Yeah, sorry." I said, thinking I was going to throw up, but instead a shudder racked my whole body, and I was forced to lay back down.

"My body hates me." I groaned, Alexander looked down at me with concern. "Do you need me to stay home today? You look worse than usual." He offered, I waved a hand. "You've got CEO stuff to do, I'll stay here and throw up by myself. I promise not to clean today." I didn't even think I could walk. He stared at me in concern, and then handed me a cellphone. "What?" I asked blankly, "If you need me, I'm the only contact on this phone, and it's my personal cell, so I'll answer." He answered. I nodded, and he looked at me hesitantly. "Go before you're late." I didn't want to interrupt his work. I felt like that was really selfish.

When the front door shut, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I didn't feel refreshed, it was quite the opposite. I couldn't even sit up to get aspirin or a sleep aide, or anything to help at all. Sitting up was not an option, every time I did, black dots swam in my vision so I had to lean over the bed, and throw up. There was throw up in my hair, I acknowledged this, but before I could feel grossed out, I threw up again, barely getting my hair out of the way. The world was blurry, I felt cold and hot, I felt everything and nothing. Anger and sadness. Happiness and bliss. It didn't matter if I sat up, or laid down, it hurt. It legit felt like someone was just stabbing me with a rusty knife, in every part of my body. I couldn't get up for a drink and I was parched. My mouth was filled with bile.

I was curled into the fetal position, just puking my guts out. Somehow I'd managed to push my hair back, and after an hour of this I looked at the time, it was three in the afternoon. After puking a couple more times, I realized something. I couldn't move without collapsing, and I was puking, but not eating anything so I was just puking up stomach acid. Slowly I reached for the phone, my hand was shaking, and I managed to call him.

"Yes?" He asked, "Alexander," my voice was even more raspy than I thought it was, I sounded pathetic, "I need you." My voice was barely above a whisper, and I threw up again. "I'll be there in thirty minutes." He said, and I hung up, placing the phone on the bedside table before hurling my guts out. By the time he got there I was panting like I ran a mile, sweat was covering my whole body, yet I was shivering like I was in Antarctica, and I couldn't form coherent sentences. I just kept my eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. I was just a quivering heap. "Oh god." He muttered, I threw up again, I didn't even know what I was throwing up at this point.

"We need to take you to the hospital," horror shot through me, "No!" I exclaimed, maybe a little too forcefully. He was surprised, but he grabbed me to lift me, I grabbed his forearm, opening my eyes and staring into his. My mother died in a hospital, my father did too. Different hospitals. Now I was always afraid that I'd be like them, and I hate doctors. His eyes were wide, it didn't help I was diagnosed with anxiety, so I scared easily. Very easily. "Please don't take me to the hospital." It was the only time I've ever really begged him for something. My eyes closed as tears formed. "Please." I begged, the tears were falling fast, and he was completely frozen, then he sat next to me, lacing his hands through my hair consolingly. I was crying like an idiot.

"You're scared of hospitals?" He asked gently. I nodded, but before I could speak, he shushed me. I was trembling all over, going numb from pain, and fear. "I hate hospitals, please don't take me to one," I shuddered all over. "Please. Please Alexander, please." I begged, the tears were falling faster now, and he got up, and left. I thought he was leaving for good, but he returned with a bottle of water, and two tiny white tablets. "These are good for pain." I took them quickly, I didn't want this pain.

Slowly my eyes drooped shut, but I trusted him to take care of me. Then I fell asleep.

Alexander's P.O.V.

I lifted her from the bed, she was in really bad shape. She pleaded but I was going to have to be the heartless one here. I was taking her anyway. I couldn't help her, and I didn't care if she hated me afterwards. No way was she going to die on me, and I couldn't watch her suffer like that. Grabbing some jeans a girl once left here, I shoved them on her, they were a little too baggy but I didn't care. Tossing her over my shoulder, I slid on her heels for her, and wiped her face. Those sleep aides I gave her guaranteed five hours of sleep with one tablet, I gave her two.

Easily, with her slung over my shoulder, I placed her in the passenger seat of my car, her head lolled around. I drove the hospital as fast as humanely possible without crashing or getting arrested. Carrying her in, the lady behind the counter stared up at me in surprise, "An appointment with a doctor, now." I snapped, dropping a thousand in cash on the counter, she called in, and I got an appointment. "What happened?" The doctor asked. I explained how she'd called, and what was happening, the doctor frowned but nodded.

Alice's P.O.V.

When I woke up, I was dead. I was in a hospital bed, and I was just like my parents. Doomed to die, confined in four white walls. I felt panic welling up inside me, I wasn't dead, I was going to die. I was dying. Without a legacy, the numbness of a panic attack started up inside me, and I really needed my anxiety medication, but I didn't care. I struggled, but when the doctor stepped in I snapped.

"Don't touch me." My voice was shaky, and breathless. He smiled reassuringly, "Ma'am, I assure you, you've been properly treated, let me remove your IV." When his fingertips brushed my skin, I screamed. The most glass shattering scream I've ever screamed. He backed away. I ripped out my IV, "Ma'am, calm down." But my breathing was ragged, "Don't fucking touch me." I breathed, and I went to run, but security guys grabbed me. At that point I lost it. I remembered my mom doing the same thing. Trying to run to me, but they held her back, she screamed until her lungs gave out, and cried until her heart gave out. I was going to be like her.

I went into what I call my coma panic. All my joints freeze, and all I want to do is hide. So that's what I did. Kicking free of the guards, I bolted, finding the nearest empty room, and curling up in a corner beside the weird aqua colored counter. My knees were pulled against my chest, and my arms were wrapped around them. My face was buried in them. Tears streamed down, as panic seized me. Images of my parents wouldn't stop flooding my mind. This was just like when I was younger, and my mother died. I hid in the hospital, hoping she'd be the one to find me. She wasn't. The only thing she found was some way to heaven. Hopefully.

Since then, I couldn't handle hospitals, I hate hospitals. But I understood why he took me here. He'd just wanted to help. I was basically rocking back and forth when the door creaked open and I stopped. I was used to crying silently, my dad had been depressed too, so I cried in silence, and smiled whenever he was around. It made him really happy, that's all I ever wanted. Happiness.

"Alice?" Alexander asked, looking around. He found me, I was just curled in the corner. Closing the door, he knelt in front of me. "Alice, look at me." Slowly I did, my eyes were blood shot from crying, and I didn't bother hiding it. Without another word, he pulled me into his arms. "I'm sorry, I really didn't know you were this scared of hospitals." He whispered and apology. "It's not your fault, you couldn't have known. Sorry for running away." I responded, wiping away my tears. He moved my hands, looked at me with intensity. "Never apologize to me when I'm in the wrong okay?" He asked, I nodded, "How do I know when I'm right then?" I asked, he smiled a little sympathetically, "Don't." I said, he raised a brow.

"I've seen enough pitiful looks in my life, and I don't want your pity Mr. Hollingsworth." I snapped, he pulled me close again.
"It's not pity Alice, it's respect. Now let's get out of here." He kissed the top of my head, surprising me, and he lifted me up, and started to carry me off.