Written In The Stars

Chapter Thirty-Two

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ARDELLA

"What about?" I had tried to act oblivious to what he was talking about, shrugging it off with nonchalance in hopes he would drop the matter. I had a feeling whatever he wanted to talk to me about wasn't a good thing.

"The doctors? Really?" I closed my eyes for a brief second, exhaling in defeat as I realised where this was going. Emerson had caught me out in my lie.

"How come you never told me Harold wanted to see you? Or even that he'd woken up, in that matter." There it was. I was wondering just when he'd find out about Harold's well being, it seemed as though I didn't have to break the devastating news to him myself, although maybe this conversation we were about to have would have gone in my favor if I had informed him as soon as I had found out.

I stared at Emerson through guarded eyes, already guessing that Officer Dane had informed him of Harold's state, and obviously that he had wanted to see me. I should have guessed he would find out. He always did.

"I didn't see why it was so important. I don't care to see him and you shouldn't care that he's awake." Harold was a chapter in my life I wanted to leave behind. It had been written, it had ended. Nothing more would come from the past now. I was over it.

Then why do you still jump whenever someone knocks on your door at night? Maybe I was too fragile for my own good.

"I care for what he can do to you once he's back on his feet." Emerson's lips seemed to be set into a permanent frown, eyebrows slightly furrowed in what I could only pinpoint as worry, and he only made so much effort to hide the sheer concern that lingered in his tone. I shrugged at his words, unable to help a laugh of ill humour to bubble out of my throat.

"I think you beat all the viciousness out of him, Mr Hale." I didn't expect Harold to be anything less than terrified after walking into Emerson's wrath. He'd beat him black and blue and showed no mercy when a few ribs had been fractured. When I thought back to that night, all I could seem to conjure up in my mind is the sight of Emerson's scarred fists blood and bruised, a spluttering Harold lying underneath his feet, half conscience, forever afraid.

"I think you should see him." That certainly set me off guard for a moment or two, so much so I had to blink a good five times before straining my ears and asking him to repeat his self.

"Excuse me?"

"I think you should go-"

A quick shake of my head was quick to cut him off, my own face now bearing a frown. "No, I heard you, I just thought you'd had a glitch in the brain or something." Maybe Emerson was ill this particular morning, because I could have sworn the man from last week would have started a war if it meant for me to stay away from Harold Ink. And yet here he sat, encouraging me to go see the very same man.

Emerson ignored my comment, further explaining himself as I silently listened on. "You need closure. This is your chance. Harold's lying in a hospital bed with four fractured ribs, he's barely able to walk. He can't hurt you anymore, I think you need to see that for yourself."

Fractured ribs heal, I wanted to cry. Harold wasn't going to be bed bound forever, one day his bruises would fade, and I was afraid that day would be sooner rather than later.

"I don't want to see him again," was the only thing I could manage to say, averting my eyes away from his emerald ones. The rainfall outside seemed like a nicer view right now.

I hoped we would leave it at that, but Emerson never left things alone before he won. He would win this argument, I knew he would.

"But you know you need to." Damn him. How he always managed to read me before I could read myself was beyond me. Somewhere buried deep inside of me knew that I needed to face Harold before I lost my mind. I needed to show him that he couldn't hurt me anymore, more importantly, I needed to believe it.

I didn't respond to Emerson after that, and it seemed that he was willing to drop the conversation all together, something I was glad for. I finally managed to peel my eyes away from the window as he spoke again. "I've left some files on your desk that I want you to sort through. Bring them back to me by lunch."

With a swift nod of my head, I willed my heel clad feet to move towards the door, only for them to come to a slow halt as Emerson called my name once from behind of me. "Ardella." I glanced behind of my shoulder with hesitant movement.

"Please consider it." I didn't give him an answer as I walked straight out the door, only breathing once the door shut behind me.

***

Somehow the hospital had been a pit stop of mine as I drove home from work. I didn't recall when I'd spun the wheel left, headed straight for the parking lot of the one place I had sworn to stay away from, at least for a little while.

The pungent smell of disinfectant crawled up my nose vividly as I made my way down a lonely corridor, with the exception of a nurse or two wheeling a patient away. I took slower steps than normal, hoping to delay this confrontation that had been coming for a long even just for a minute or so.

"Just get this over with." The nervous talking had begun, and I only thanked god that no one was around to witness a worked up women talk to herself.

Another turn down a corridor, another doubt in my head that was telling me to turn back around. I forced myself not to listen to, only concentrating on the journey to Harold's hospital room. According to the receptionist, he'd spoken a lot about me. More than he should have done. I'd failed in suppressing the violent chill that raked down my spine, but she hadn't noticed, instead giving me the directions that lead straight to him.

Inside I screamed at Emerson with blame. This was his fault. He'd talked me into doing this, he'd confronted me with the truth. With what I needed to hear, and yet I couldn't help but resent him a little bit for it. Seeing Harold scared me, it scared me so much, and that fear only intensified with the brief fact that I was alone. All I had ever been was alone. 

I stopped outside of his door, my journey finally coming to an end as I stared at the name slathering in ink on a piece of paper. Harold Ink. The man who had tormented for two years. The man who had laid his hands on me one too many times. He lay on the other side of this door and all I had to do was turn a handle.

He can't fucking hurt you anymore, Ardella. My heart pounded, so much so that I cod hear it ringing in my ears, or maybe that was just the phone I'd placed there unknowingly, Emerson's number being the one to ring.

Maybe this was out of line. Calling your boss on a whim and asking him for emotional support because you're fragile heart might break if you don't have him by your side. Yep, most definitely out of line, but I couldn't bring myself to place the phone down. I just let it ring.

"Hey, it's Ardella," I spoke as soon as he picked up, not even bothering to wait for his response before my voice was cracking with sheer emotion, pathetically swiping a tear that had strayed as I said the words I hadn't said in years. "I really need you right now."

I needed him more than he could ever imagine.