This Story Has a Happy Ending

Chapter 4: Love is Overrated

Flashback end
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I lay still for a moment, reliving the moment I nearly got flattened like a pancake. I could still hear the shouts of the people behind me, attempting to warn me of my imminent fate. A chill shot up my spine as I realized just how close I had come to losing my life.

Slowly drifting back to reality, I realized that doctor Stratford was still observing me with a look of concern evident in her wide grey eyes.

"I walked in front of a car," I said slowly, more to myself than to the doctor, still processing what had happened, "but it was an accident, I swear."

"Well, Chloe, I think you would benefit from learning to look both ways before crossing the road," said doctor Stratford, a look of disappointment etched into her features.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

You're not my pre-school teacher.

"I don't know who your pre-school teacher was, but if she were anything like me, you would've been fine right now."

Oh my god, did I just say that out loud?

"Sorry," I sheepishly looked away from the doctor's searching gaze, focusing instead on a loose thread in the light green throw blanket that lay on my stomach.

"So," she started, "your files tell me that you should be good today check out of the hospital today, if you're feeling up to it."

Taking one look around the sickeningly green room nearly gave me a migraine. I nodded and smiled, signalling that I would indeed be fine to leave today.

"I've called the number you listed as your emergency contact. William, was it?" She explained, "I told him he could come pick you up later today. He'll be on his way as soon as possible."

My stomach felt strange as my heart dropped. I would be coming face to face with the very reason I nearly lost my life.

"Could you call someone else, please?" I choked out, my eyes slowly beginning to water. "Get my mother, get anyone else, just not Will. I really can't see him right now."

My breathing quickened to an uncomfortable pace as I tried to keep my rapid heartbeat at bay. I subconsciously ran my finger over my shoulder, where a long scar embellished the length of my bicep.

"We called your mother," doctor Stratford admitted apologetically, "but she didn't answer."

Of course she didn't answer.

The one thing that stayed consistent through recent years was the fact that my mother never bothered to answer my phone calls, save the few rare occasions scattered here and there when she gathered up the audacity to ask for "gas money". Gas money, roughly translating to "money used to purchase a groceries (ie. painkillers)", was the only reason for interaction between my beloved mother and I. Leaving her behind in our old townhouse with a relative was a difficult choice, but perhaps it was the right one. Along with her late husband, she lost the spark in her eyes, most of her finances, and any affection she had for her only daughter.

"I'll check out by myself, just please, don't let William come in here," I implored, his name leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

"May I ask why?" The doctor asked.

"He may as well be the devil," I replied, "the only things he's missing is the pitchfork."

"If you're really that concerned about the matter, I'll have you know that, by law, you have the right to refuse any visitors you don't want to see," doctor Stratford reassured me, the corner of her eyes crinkling as she smiled slightly.

"Well then, I refuse to see him."

I leaned back on my pillow, letting out a breath.

William was the one thing in my life that I could never and would never be able to escape from. He was like the monster under my bed. I was the only one who had the oh-so-great honour of seeing his dark side - the side nobody else believed existed.

William Laveau wasn't always the bad guy in my story, believe it or not.

We met at the bookstore, when we both reached for a copy of a book at the same time.

Cliché? Very.

After our first date, I fell for him, and I fell hard. His effortless charisma, his chivalrous mannerisms, and of course, our shared love for Stephen King, brought me closer to him than any other guy I'd met before. When he asked me to move in with him, a year into our perfect relationship, I was by far ready to spend my life with him. Being the only son of a filthy rich family, his parents had already done everything they needed to ensure his undoubtedly comfortable future, including purchasing a beautiful, two-storey, white-picket-fence dream house for him in Guelph.

However, perfect things are volatile, as was my relationship with Will. Living together, as couples may know, can become a stressful ordeal, even for the happiest of them. It started with little things - Will always leaving the toilet lid up and my forgetting to take out the trash. Little things soon escalated into real problems - jealousy and distrust - mostly on Will's part. The illusion of our flawless relationship shattered like glass before my eyes the moment William came home drunk for the first time.

Thus began the end of my happiness, my freedom, and my love for William Laveau.

So much for a healthy relationship. Love is overrated anyways.