Waking up to silence, along with the solid unpleasant aromatic scents of antiseptics, disinfectants, cleaners, and soaps invading my senses, made me realize I wasn't home. Instead, I was inside a hospital. In a room that's as quiet as could be, except for the loud, annoying beeping sounds one would hear inside a hospital room, alerting the person lying in bed, they're alive. My eyes slowly flickered open, and then I blinked a few times, trying to get my eyes to focus on my surroundings after seeing nothing but a big blur.

In an attempt to see if I was, in fact, inside a hospital room, I squinted my eyes, trying to sharpen the blurred vision I was having in the dimmed, lighted room. My eyes glanced around the somewhat quiet room; the TV was flickering away, playing music with the volume on low, a window with the shades drawn, and tan colored walls, with a whiteboard displaying my name and the nurse's name taking care of me.

I closed my eyes, trying to remember where I was and what had happened, to where it landed me in the hospital instead of being at home with my family. And then, while thinking about what brought me here, the fireworks started going off after memories of being outside the arena, signing autographs, and taking pictures with excited fans started filling my thoughts.

But they're not the reason I awoke in a hospital bed. I'm here because of a deranged psycho fan who felt the need to stab me. My hand traveled up my body to the large bandage attached to my chest. I pressed on the throbbing area and flinched in pain.

Yep, my memories are correct. A fan had stabbed me.

I removed the bed sheet from my body, swung my legs around the bed, then tried to stand, but as I stood on the cold flooring, I got light-headed and immediately dropped onto the bed. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling while listening to the machine's beep every few seconds. Once the confusion, grogginess, and dizziness subsided, instead of standing as I did before, I slowly stood, then at a turtle's pace, I headed to the bathroom to look at my chest.

I looked in the mirror, partially lowered my gown, then began peeling the bandage away from my chest, but the second I saw the swelling and redness and the black, blue, and yellow colorings surrounding the stitches, I immediately covered the wound back up, then headed back to the bed to ease the dizziness that had returned.

"You're awake," a nurse happily said as she entered the room. "how are you feeling?" she asked, heading toward me, looking happy I wasn't asleep.

My head turned to the nurse standing by my side, checking my fluid bag. "Light-headed, tired, and excessively sore, right here," I breathed, gently tapping my chest. Then my tongue wandered around my mouth after speaking, wondering where the moisture or saliva was. "And I've got the most incredible dry mouth ever."

She smiled and softly giggled. "That's from the medication inside your IV bag. I'll get you a glass of water. But first, I'd like to look at your wound to ensure the stitches are holding up and that your injury hasn't become infected."

My eyes shifted down to my chest as the nurse removed the bandage. "You were lucky. Had the knife punctured a hair over and in further, than it did, it would have pierced your heart." She reattached the bandage and smiled as she said, "So far, it's looking good. I'll inform your doctor how it's looking, and then I'll be back with some more water for you." She handed me a cup and a stick with a sponge at the end. "There's very little water left inside, but it should get you by until I come back."

I dipped the sponge into the paper cup and moved it around, soaking up all the water I could, then brought it to my mouth and sucked, humming in appreciation when the water hit my palate.

Moments later, the nurse returned with a water bottle, filled my cup, and handed it back to me. Instead of using the sponge to wet my mouth, I wanted to drink from the cup. But when I began bringing the cup closer to my mouth, I realized I was too weak even to do that, so I used the sponge anyway.

"How long have I been in here, anyway?"

"A couple of days," she responded, typing whatever she was into the hospital computer.

My eyes widened in surprise. I assumed I'd only been here for a few hours. "A couple of days?"

Where's Gunner? If I've been here as long as she said, why aren't he and Wyatt here with me?

And where's Walter, or my brother?

Doesn't anyone care or curious as to how I'm doing?

She nodded, then looked at me after turning off the computer. "Yes, you've been here a couple of days," the nurse affirmed. "And you've had quite the security looking out for you, right outside your door since being brought here."

"Security? For me?"

She nodded. "Yes, the police have been guarding your room, making sure nobody comes in that's not supposed to be."

My lips twisted. Considering what happened, I suppose that's a good thing. "I'm sure they want to question me," I sighed, remembering the incident back in Malaysia and how they separated all of us to get our statements of events to what happened.

"Yes, they want that too," the nurse confirmed. "But according to the officer out there right now, they're in no hurry. They're willing to wait until you're able and ready to inform them of what happened."

I sighed while looking up at the ceiling, replaying that night in my mind and remembering every detail of what led me here. "I'm willing to give my statement to them anytime," I finally said, then looked at her. "I remember everything."

"That's good to hear," she happily said.

Now, where's Gunner? Because I'm sure, he'd like to be here when they question me.

"Has my husband or anyone else been here to see me? Or are the police not allowing anyone to visit until I tell them my memory of events? Because I'd prefer if Gunner were here when I talk to them."

"You're allowed visitors, but they're being kept to a minimum," she responded, then added, "One person at a time, that is. And as for your having your husband here when you talk to them, usually, they only allow for an attorney to be present, so I'd have to find out if they'll allow it."

"I was afraid of that," I heavily breathed.

"It's not so bad," she smiled. "All you need to do is provide the authorities with what happened. That's all."

"Okay," I muttered, wishing she would have responded differently. "You still hadn't said if anyone was here to see me."

"You've had your share of visitors, yes," she finally answered, but I noticed a slight hesitation with her response, which left me wondering since she was so vague about who had visited me if it meant Gunner hadn't been here to see me.

I studied her mannerisms as she walked over to the whiteboard and lifted the black marker to write.

I didn't like what I saw and asked, "Gunner hasn't been here, has he?"

No amnesia, she wrote on the board before turning to face me. "From my understanding, he was here all day yesterday."

Well, that's a relief to know, but the look on her face also tells me there's something more she's afraid to say.

My eyes drew into slits after she quickly turned around and erased her name from the board. Now she really has my curiosity running wild. "Is there something I should know?"

She wrote a different nurse's name on the board, then walked around to me. "Shyla will be taking over now. She's the nurse taking care of you during the day. I'm just the overnight nurse. If you have any questions, I'm sure she'd be happy to fill you in on everything she knows."

She knows something.

I can feel it.

I grabbed hold of her hand as she began walking away. "Please tell me my husband is okay and nothing happened to him that night."

"Your husband is fine," the nurse assured, "but..." she paused, then after a brief moment, she finally admitted what I felt in my heart. "I can't say nothing happened to him because that would be a lie."

I knew it. "Can you at least tell me what happened to him?"

The nurse removed her hand from mine after someone knocked on the door and opened it. "Oh, you're awake," another nurse cheerfully said as she entered.

"Aria, this is Shyla, the nurse I mentioned who'll be looking out for you today." The nurse pulled Shyla to the side, and even though she whispered to her, I still heard what she was telling her, and it made my stomach feel uneasy. "Aria was just asking about her husband; if you could fill her in about what you know, that would be great."

Shyla grabbed a chair, then sat beside me after Amy, my night nurse, left the room. She looked at the door, then at me, sucking her lips into her mouth. Then, finally, she began enlightening me. "This could get me in a bit of trouble for telling you this, but because I feel you're entitled to know about his welfare, I'm going to fill you in that your husband spent a few hours here the night you were brought in, and after he was released yesterday, he spent the day by your side."

"What happened to him?"

"A knife wound to the neck." Shyla raised her hand after my eyes widened. "Gunner's fine. The knife didn't pierce his skin very far, but it punctured it enough to where he still needed a few stitches."

I was scared to hear the answer to my next question, but because I needed to know, I asked, "Did anyone else I know get hurt that night?"

"I'm not sure. I know only about your husband because I was your nurse when he was here, waiting for you to open your eyes. As he waited for you to recover consciousness, he opened up to me about what happened to you and filled me in on how his injury occurred. Your husband is quite a stubborn man," she smiled, "if it weren't for me insisting that he go home to get the rest he needed, he would have been here when you awoke."

That's the Gunner I know.

"Yes," I giggled, "that man can be very stubborn. But that's why I love him."

The nurse stood. "Well, I better get to work before the staff comes looking for me."

"How much longer until they release me?" I asked, as she opened the door. "Because I'd really like to be home with my son."

"That's up to the doctor. If you're healing as you should and have no infections, you'll receive your discharge papers. And then, you'll get to be home with your family."

Not exactly the answer I wished to hear, but whatever, it is what it is. So now I lay here and wait for Gunner to show up with Wyatt, the officers to question me, and the doctor to discharge me.

This will be fun.

Not...

Wishing I was in my own bed, a long displeasing breath of air escaped my lungs while forcing my eyes to close, hoping that if I fell back asleep, it'd make my time in the hospital go by much faster. But the moment they closed and started thinking happy thoughts, I opened my eyes after hearing someone walking toward me.

"Good morning, hun," Gunner welcomed before lowering his mouth onto mine. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake."

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you here," I responded, smirking while lowering my eyes to his neck, curious to see how bad his cut was. "So, who failed at trying to take you away from me?"

"Felicia," he said, standing tall to adjust Wyatt after he tried climbing out of Gunner's arms and onto me.

I extended my arms toward Wyatt. "Let me hold him, please."

"That might not be a good idea. He could hurt your chest."

"What's the difference? I breastfed Wyatt while he was teething. On top of that, you'd torture me with the nipple clamps after Wyatt afflicted great pain on my tits with his teeth. So I think if he wants to hug and leave me his wet, slobbery kisses, whatever pain he causes me to feel while doing so, I can handle it."

The expression on Gunner's face when he lowered Wyatt onto my belly showed he was nervous and concerned that Wyatt would hurt me. However, his face also displayed there was a lot on his mind. "Have you spoken to the police yet?"

"No, not yet," I said, feeling in awe with Wyatt in my arms and how he was squeezing, kissing, and talking his gibberish talk with me. Of course, he also hurt my wound, but I wasn't about to let Gunner know he was. "Why?"

He shook his head. "Just curious, is all."

I pointed to his neck. "How did you manage to allow Felicia to do that to you?"

"She came up from behind me and knocked me out..." he revealed before explaining everything that happened after leaving the arena to find Felicia and her friends. It made my stomach turn to hear she destroyed our home and that he hadn't been back to see all the damage she caused, fearing it was a complete loss.

It also sickened me to hear how they hurt Walter and left him to die in a bathtub full of water while our home was bursting in flames. "She's lucky I was here and not with you. Had I been, I would have killed her with my bare hands."

"I know you would have, and I wanted to. Believe me, I did," Gunner heavily stressed, "but I just couldn't do it. Your father suffered enough heartache over the years that I didn't want to add any more grief to his life."

"The evil bitch deserved to die. She ruined our home; she had me stabbed, kidnapped Wyatt, my brother, and our trainers, and hurt Nikki and Walter, leaving them both to die. And she also set up Stella with my ex to hurt me. So I couldn't care less if my father's feelings or heart were shattered had Felicia's life been terminated. She deserved to be in the abode of the damned," I bitterly reminded. "And once the demons came up to grab her and began bringing her down to where she belonged, I would have smiled and waved, saying, 'Bye, Felicia!'"

Gunner smiled and softly chuckled. "She got the bye Felicia from Justin and me when the authorities hauled her away."

Wyatt's hands rested on either side of my face; he lowered his mouth and drooled all over mine when he kissed me. "So, where did you stay last night?"

He bit his bottom lip before surprising me by telling me he didn't say a hotel. "Your father offered us a place to stay in the guest room at his house. He said you and I are more than welcome to stay with him until we find or build another home-including Walter," Gunner added. He then hinted I better not put up a stink about staying with my father and the woman I grew up hating.

Walter... speaking of him. "Where is Walter anyway? Have you gone to visit him or heard how he's doing?"

"Walter's in intensive care, and yes, I visited with him."

"And? How is he? Is he going to make it?"

Gunner slowly shrugged. "As of last night, he was doing good, but he's still in a coma."

"I need you--" I began to say, but stopped when the door opened. Seeing the doctor entering the room, I handed Wyatt to Gunner.

"How are you feeling?" the doctor asked as he shined his penlight into my eye.

"I'm feeling fine. Are you here to give me my discharge papers?"

He chuckled. "Not yet."

Damn, that sucks.

"I'm here to see how you're doing and healing and to inform you that you have a friend in ICU requesting to see you since he awoke a little while ago."

"Walter? He's awake? And he's asking for me?" I asked excitedly.

The doctor removed my bandage, inspected the wound, then covered it with a new dressing. "Yes, Walter is awake, and he's a bit irate that you're not in the room with him. So... I'm here to see if you're well enough for one of my nurses to bring you up to see him."

I suppose now isn't the time to let him know I'm feeling dizzy. Especially not since he's willing to let me see Walter while I'm still a patient in his hospital.

"I'm feeling dandy," I lied, while looking at Gunner. "So, will you allow us to visit him right now?"

He nodded, confirming his answer. "After I finish with your examination, I'll find an available nurse to bring you to see him."

Once the doctor left the room, a couple of officers entered, asking if they could get a statement from me. After telling them my version of events, they mentioned my recollection of what had happened and matched the witnesses. They also informed me that the person who tried ending my life was no longer a threat to my family and me since he was no longer living and that my father admitted to being the one who pulled the trigger.

They also told Gunner and me that everyone Felicia involved with her criminal behaviors has been arrested, charged, and is being held without bail... including Felicia. But not only is she being held accountable for her wrongdoings, but she's also locked up where my mother is and being treated for schizophrenia, anxiety, and bipolar disorders.

If prison isn't where Felicia will be living from this day on, the only other place she deserves to live is where she's at now-the insane asylum.

***

"It's about damn time you came to see me," Walter groaned, acting a little more ornery than usual. "I was beginning to think you assumed the old fuddy-duddy checked out. But, unfortunately, I wasn't so lucky to depart from this crazy thing we call life."

"Oh, Walter, stop it," I giggled, tears filling my eyes, happy to see Walter didn't succumb to Felicia's atrocious behavior. "I came up here as soon as the doctor gave me the okay to visit you."

He waved his hand over his chest. "Blah. Blah. Blah."

The nurse who brought Gunner and me up to see Walter found Walter humorous and laughed at his witty remarks. Still laughing, she said, "I'll be back in fifteen minutes to check on everyone."

With a straight face, Walter quipped, "Pfft... if you're checking to see if I pitched a tent, don't bother. I forgot how that works."

Gunner slapped his hands to his face, covering his eyes in embarrassment. And then there's me with my head lowered and shaking it, all while trying to stifle the laugh that wished to be heard. Then, finally, Gunner looked at me, grinning widely. "Some things never change."

"That's not what I meant," the nurse laughed, "what I meant was, I'll be in to see how you or Aria are feeling or need anything."

"I can tell you now; I have a list of things I need. But we won't get into that right now, since the list is long."

Walter's eyes shifted to me after the nurse left the room. He stared at me for a moment, then asked, "So, Aria. How are you feeling?"

"I've had better days," I responded, not wishing to worry Gunner or Walter that I'm feeling extremely light-headed. "The better question is, how are you feeling?"

"Like horseshit. I'd feel much better at home and in my own bed. But I don't foresee that happening anytime soon."

Gunner and I looked at each other. Then he looked at Walter, scratching the top of his head. "Unfortunately, you're right. That isn't happening anytime soon."

"Why not?" Walter groaned lowly.

"Because there is no home. Not anymore," Gunner sadly answered, then asked, "Do you remember what happened after you left the arena?"

Walter turned and faced the ceiling, moving his mouth around as he thought about Gunner's question. "My brain is a bit foggy, but I remember a woman evilly laughing after someone bonked me in the back of my head. The next thing I knew, Gunner was pulling me from a water-filled tub, begging that I didn't die on him. And then I wake up alone in a cold flippin' room, wondering where everyone was."

"Are you telling us that you don't remember our home on fire?"

"I thought that was a dream."

Gunner shook his head. "It wasn't a dream, old man. Felicia and her cronies destroyed your hard work and Aria's dream home."

"My wife's picture..." Walter quietly breathed. "Our wedding picture..." he sadly exhaled again. "My photo albums... your memories, my memories... you mean to tell me that they're all gone?"

Gunner shook his head. "Everything. It's all gone... well, I haven't been over there to see if anything's saveable, but the way the home was engulfed in flames, my guess is that everything of ours had been destroyed."

For Walter to hear all his hard work in designing my dream home, our dream home, and losing every memory he had left of his wife was gone. Killed me inside. And then to witness tears pooling in his eyes for the first time since meeting Walter hurt. And it made me cry seeing him in pain. It also made me cry harder, thinking since Walter had nothing left to remind him of his wife's beauty, he'll want to leave this earth much faster-just to be with her.

And I guess I can't blame him for that.

"I'm sorry, Walter," I cried. "I'm so, so, sorry. This was all my fault. Had I let Felicia win, none of us would be here, and our home would still be standing."

Walter snapped his head my way with a serious look in his eye. "It's not your fault, so don't be sorry. We must remember that life is more precious than material things and be thankful we're still above ground." He repeatedly tapped his temple. "I still have memories of my wife loaded in this monster noggin of mine, so losing pictures of her and I isn't the end of the world. We can't sit and dwell on what was lost; we'll be wasting our time. We need to move on because life isn't about moving backward; it's about moving forward and learning from our experiences. Felicia may have been angry and ruined everything we had, breaking our hearts, but what she didn't destroy was our lives and my determination to get the hell out of here so I could design you two a new home-a much better and even bigger one."

"We don't need a bigger home," Gunner said.

"Sure you do," Walter insisted, "because if my dream were correct, you'd add to your family in about nine months. So congratulations, Aria, you're pregnant."

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!🤞🤞

The next chapter will be the last. I can't think of any more to write.😫😫