Beep... beep... beep. The rhythmic sound was the first thing that I registered as I began to open my eyes, wincing in the bright white light overhead. As I grew acclimatised to it, I was able to register blurry shapes nearby, my eyes widening further to bring them more into focus.
"You're awake."
Ross... he was here.
I smiled as soon as I heard his voice, turning my head to the side to find him standing by my bed, everything else around me making it was clear that I was in the hospital.
"Hey," I said gently, my voice weaker than usual and raspy, scratching at my throat.
"Hey," He replied quietly.
He was still in his uniform, and I took it to mean that he'd raced here straight from the station whilst still on shift. His eyes were red and his expression strained. I wanted to hug him, to reassure him that I was okay, but from the aches all over my body, I was pretty sure it would be a little while before I could get up and do that, so instead, I reached for his hand, my own feeling heavy and stiff. Taking it in his own, he gave it a gentle squeeze.
"I'll call the doctor, they'll want to know you're awake."
He gently released my hand and then ducked through the curtains, returning a few minutes later with a doctor.
The man, presumably in his fifties, was brusque and to the point, with sharp, cool blue eyes, silvery hair and a no-nonsense attitude. He read from the chart in his hand without looking up, explaining the lack of breaks or fractures to my body, whilst mentioning the minor cuts and scrapes and the concussion that they were keeping me in to monitor. After explaining that I was lucky, he went on to say that the police would be calling in later for a statement, then retreated.
"What a wonderful bedside manner," I commented sarcastically, trying to sit up straighter, and coughing a little as my attempt at a laugh backfired.
I looked up at Ross who seemed to be lost in thought and bit my lip.
"Are you okay?" I asked after a minute passing in silence.
He began to refocus and nodded his head quickly, stepping forward and pulling a nearby chair with him, taking a seat beside me.
"Should be asking you that," He replied.
I couldn't help but think that something felt off about him, he seemed distant, not quite present.
Probably still shocked. I thought, putting myself in his shoes. After all, it can't have been easy to be on the other end of that call. To have to rush to the hospital unknowing what was happening.
Taking his hand once more, I looked him right in the eye, putting on the biggest smile that I could manage and saying:
"I'm fine. You heard the doctor, just a few bumps and bruises."
"And a concussion," He added curtly.
"And a concussion," I repeated, "But it's nothing that won't heal up."
He nodded slowly.
"What happened, Lena?"
I shifted uncomfortably at the question, his eyes finding mine as I tried to remember what happened outside the club. Things were foggy and unclear. But the more I thought, the more I felt like I recognised him, or at least his voice.
"I was jumped by a man," I answered, "I think he was in the club earlier," I added as an afterthought, mumbling it more to myself than to him.
"I wouldn't have thought violent drunks would frequent exclusive clubs," Ross replied.
I fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket across my legs, not meeting his eye as I realised that I shouldn't have said that aloud.
"I'm probably wrong, it's all hazy," I muttered.
"No, if you think he was in the club, then that's important," Ross said firmly, "Gives the police somewhere to start." There was a pause before he continued: "But why would this guy attack you?"
"I don't know, mistaken identity maybe?" I sighed, reluctant to continue this line of discussion, "Who knows, I probably got it wrong and he's just a mugger, wanted my purse or something and I got confused."
"That would make sense," Ross sighed, "A flush stripper walking alone to her car would be a good target for some low-level scum."
My eyes practically popped out of my skull as his words sank in.
"A wh-what?" I stuttered, unable to fully believe what I heard.
"Don't play dumb, Lena," He said sharply, his hand disappearing from mine, eyes narrowing coldly. "You've been lying to me long enough, at least have the decency to admit it now that you've been caught out."
Tears built up in my eyes, spilling over and running down my cheeks, I couldn't believe that this was happening, that after everything, just as I'd begun to turn things around, it was coming out.
"I'm sorry," I croaked.
"Sorry!" He repeated with disbelief, "You're sorry?" He leapt to his feet and paced up and down, raking his fingers through his hair and shaking his head.
"Yes, I am," I cried, "I know that it's not enough but I am so sorry, Ross, I never set out to hurt you."
He laughed coldly, his face turning back to me, set in angry lines whilst his eyes gave away the heartache that lay beneath the rage.
"Do you have any idea how scared I was to get that call?" He asked angrily, not waiting for my reply before he continued: "Told that you were attacked, that you were unconscious and on your way to the hospital... I thought I was going to lose you."
I didn't know what to say, tears were streaming from my eyes as I looked at the man I love, watching him fall to pieces in front of me.
"You can imagine how great I then felt to get here just in time to overhear your boss explaining to the police about a handsy customer who was thrown out for trying to rip your clothes off during a lapdance."
I felt sick to my stomach as he fell silent and I was forced to come face to face with the agonising heartbreak that was staring right at me.
"I never wanted you to find out that way," I sobbed, imploring him to give me a chance to explain.
"You never wanted me to find out at all," He retorted.
He'd got me there. I'd done everything that I could to make sure that he would never find out what I'd done, never discover the depth of my betrayal.
"Okay, I didn't," I admitted. He turned away, frustrated and hurt, unable to keep looking at me, "I never wanted to tell you how much I was failing. I was scared that you'd be angry, that you'd think you uprooted your life for nothing," My voice was rising desperately as I sat up, ignoring the painful protest of my body and head, urgently seeking some reaction from Ross that he might eventually understand.
"For nothing?" He said incredulously, whirling around and storming toward the bed, making me shrink backwards before he stopped a few steps away looking, if possible, more hurt than before. "Did you really think that little of me? That my reason to move hung on your success?" I didn't know what to say as his widened eyes burned into my own. "I moved to be with you, I moved for us. It was for our future, Lena. I never imagined the road would be easy, but I was willing to accept it all because I wanted to start our life together in a place where we could both live out our dreams."
Shame bubbled up inside of me as I realised how stupid I'd been, not having enough faith in him.
"I'm sorry," I repeated.
"Sorry doesn't cut it," He bit back, "You've lied to my face for months about where you've been, what you've been doing, and God knows what else. I don't want a lame apology, I want the truth, I deserve that much."
I could have sworn that my heart stopped in my chest at his revelation. As cowardly as it was, I didn't want to tell him anything else. I could barely cope with how much I'd hurt him already, and the knowledge that me taking my clothes off for other men was probably the least painful betrayal that I had to confess to only made it worse. How could I begin to tell him about what happened with Charlie? What I nearly did with Jex, how far I was willing to go behind his back.
He glared at me, waiting for me to speak, and when I didn't, he just turned his back on me, storming toward the curtain, ready to leave me.
"No," I called out, "Please, don't go, don't walk out on me," I begged.
"Then start talking, because all you're doing by refusing, is showing me just how little I matter to you."
"Okay," I agreed timidly, hanging my head, my fingers tugging at the loose thread again, doing more damage to the sheet with each nerve-wracking second. "I'll tell you, but please," I flicked my eyes back to his, "Just hear me out first."
I took a shaky breath as Ross began to walk back to the chair, sitting down and staring at me, his face going blank as though he couldn't begin to know how to feel about what was to come.
I didn't know where to start. How to start. How do you tell someone you love all about the numerous things you've done for your own selfish reasons, with little consideration to how it could hurt them? With no better idea, I began at the very beginning. Explaining my struggle managing to get by whilst on my own, the constant rejections at auditions and the urgency of needing a job to get by. He listened silently, allowing me to speak without interruption, never giving away any hint to his feelings. I told him about the job at the club, how it started out as just waitressing, but strayed to muddy territories after Dalton's appearance. There was a flicker of rage across his face as I told him what happened the night he made me dance for him, his eyes ablaze throughout that stretch of the story. When it came to explaining the night I nearly had sex with Charlie, I faltered, unable to find the words to tell him what had occurred in the office. Skirting around the edges of the story, I told him how lonely I felt, and the lures of the male attention at the club, enforcing how badly I'd wanted to be with him, but how that was impossible. I could tell that he was beginning to come to the conclusion of what had happened, and noticed his chest rising and falling quicker now. The moment that I told him I'd kissed Charlie, he squeezed his eyes closed, and I saw the glisten of a single tear passing his lashes. Even as I finished explaining that I left and that I didn't sleep with him, he still didn't open them. It was with difficulty that I then had to make that sting even more by telling him it had happened on the very night he'd come to LA, effectively reminding him how Charlie had then come by hours later. At that, he got back to his feet, turning his back on me completely and walking the other side of the cubicle. I heard an abrupt sniffle and wanted to stop, to end it before anything else could make it worse. But I knew I had to keep going. He was right, he deserved to know the truth, and it was my fitting punishment to have to be the one to face the consequences by telling it. The words continued to pour out, like poison leaving my system. Too soon, I reached the moment where what happened with Jex was brought to light, and I couldn't even look up. I could see his head lowering out of the corner of my eye, his shoulders quivering, but I couldn't face it.
The silence was deafening when I finished, and I waited fearfully for his reaction.
"Ross?" I whispered anxiously as the silence continued to stretch.
I fought to lift my head, and when I did, I felt my heart shatter at the sight that met me. His eyes were red and brimming with tears that were silently rolling down his face. He looked completely broken and it was unbearable to see.
"I just wanted everything to work out," I said desperately, hoping to do some sort of damage control.
"Clearly," He croaked through the emotional turmoil. "And was it worth everything you were willing to sacrifice?"
I shook my head, my own tears causing a painful lump to form in my throat.
"No," I replied.
He rolled his eyes skyward, harshly rubbing the tears from his face before reaching for the curtain.
"Please, don't go," I sobbed.
"I need time, Lena," He said shortly, still facing away from me, "I can't even look at you right now."
He didn't waste another second before stepping outside, the curtain falling closed behind him, leaving me to break down into wracking sobs, clutching at my chest where I was sure my heart was being ripped in half.