Free True Control 4.2 by Willow Madison Page A

used in the trashy novels I read in college.
    No matter how hurt. No matter how scared. No matter how confused. I’ve always responded to him. To his strong looks. His strong voice. His strong love.
    I’ve been living in a crazy state. Up. Down. Side to side. Crazy. I let myself release a stream of curses in my head…a dizzying freedom after everything that’s happened. Shit. Damn. Fuck. Shit. Ok….I’m not that creative! I laugh again and Max takes my hand and kisses it.
    I feel like I’ve been told the guillotine isn’t sharp enough and I won’t be executed...long live love!
    I’m suddenly sick again. Max shouts to his new driver to stop. We’re pulled in sharply to an open space by the curb and I quickly open the door, leaning out and taking in big gulps of air. I don’t vomit. Barely. I shake with small cries or laughter or both. I shake.
    But I feel Max’s hand on my back. His gentle, sweet hand.
    No matter what else happens. I will always remember this moment.
    His child inside me. His loving touch at my discomfort. His attentive command to stop the car just when I need it stopped. That he loves me. I know this. Right here. Right now. I don’t doubt. I won’t ever doubt again that his love can conquer anything, even my fears and his anger.
    I don’t feel the rest. I hear. But I don’t feel.

Chapter 18 HER
    I don’t need to open my eyes to know that I’m in a hospital room. The smell. The sounds. Beeps, hisses, muffled voices and footsteps, metal on metal clangs in a distance.
    I want to drift back to sleep. I don’t want to open my eyes. I don’t want to see.
    A single tear escapes my right eye, but I don’t feel it until it drops onto my shoulder.
    I drift. Thankfully, I drift.
    .…..
    I feel a prick on my arm and moan. “I’m sorry, honey.”
    A nurse smiling at me. That’s the first thing I see. Her hand pressing on the inside of my left elbow. My left arm lying on a white sheet. Tubes come out of my left hand. I follow them up to a bag of clear liquid, back down. I turn my head a little. My right arm is wrapped. I swallow several times and she brings me a cup with a straw. Cool water hits my throat and I don’t think I’ve loved the feel of anything more in my life.
    I cough a little and she plumps up pillows behind me. My face feels funny. Like I don’t have control of it.
    “Your family is going to be very happy to see your baby blues open, honey.” She walks towards the door. “I’ll get the doctor too.” I want to tell her to stop. Wait. Please!
    But she’s gone.
    I close my eyes, but the solace of sleep is lost to me. I hold my breath waiting. I keep my eyes closed.
    I can hear the door open. It’s quiet but the sound from the hall gets louder for a moment.
    “It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”
    A stranger. A doctor. I open my eyes. He’s youngish, smiling, looking at a chart. Nice, clean cut. I vomit on him.
    He steps back quickly and goes into the hall, “Nurse!”
    But he returns to my side and pulls the sheets to cover the small vomit on the side of the bed. He wipes my face and the front of my gown. I’m too weak to turn away from him. Too numb. He removes his jacket, leaving it on the floor without a care.
    A nurse quickly comes in and he directs him to get a maintenance person in here right away.
    Then he smiles at me again. Nice. I want to cry and apologize, but I’m silent, watching the movie around me. “Feel a little better?”
    I only nod. “Do you know where you are?” He puts a light on my eyes and directs me to follow it.
    “In the hospital?” My voice cracks. He picks up the cup and straw and holds it for me. “Take small sips.” I do. Keeping my eyes on him.
    “Yes. You were brought in this morning. Do you know your name?”
    “Lucy Traeger.”
    “Good. How about what day it is?”
    “Saturday.”
    “Good, Lucy. You don’t have a concussion. You have lacerations…cuts…to your right side. And your wrist and rib are