Chapter 8: Shoulder.
Fluttering my eyes open, I stare at the ceiling of my hospital room. I've been here for three days. I lost my voice two days ago, due to my intense crying and screaming spree. Zachary has been here with me through it all. He just stepped out to go get me some food.
My phone rings beside me and I answer it.
It's my publicist.
"Hey Sarah." I say, weakly into the phone.
"What's this I hear about a miscarriage? It's all over the blogs, Val." She tells me.
"It's true. I had a miscarriage this weekend." I tell her.
"Oh, I am so sorry. I didn't want to believe it, even after I saw a video of you screaming and crying in the hospital reception." She says and I wipe my eyes.
"Yeah. Can you help me deal with this? I really don't want people talking about this all week long." I ask her.
"Of course, it's my job. I'll do some damage control. It'll blow over in no time." She tells me.
"How are you feeling?" She adds.
"Sore. Weak. Empty." I tell her and she sighs.
"It's going to be alright, Val. Hang in there." She says, encouraging me.
"Yeah, I'll talk to you soon." I tell her before I hang up.
So, everybody knows.
And if it's all over the blogs, that means my mother knows.
I am fucking screwed.
Scrolling through Instagram, I stumble on a video of me in the hospital reception and I click on the comments.
Dariusxx: She's overreacting, miscarriages don't hurt that bad.
Janice354: Oh My God, she's totally overdoing it. I've had two miscarriages and they did not hurt that bad.
Chaseeverdeen21: Ugh, rich people.
Cutebunnyyy: Why the fuck did Zachary Henderson get himself into this mess. I would have just left her there and gone home.
Sarah875: She is so fake.
"Hey, I'm back." Zachary says as he walks inside the room.
I turn off my phone and I wipe my eyes, acting as if I wasn't crying two seconds ago.
"What did you get me?" I ask him, trying my best to fake a smile.
"I got you some grilled asparagus and chicken with a side of fries." He says, smiling at me.
"How do you know my Olive Garden order?" I ask him.
"Let's just say Google comes in handy when I want to know things about you these days." He says, smiling and I frown.
He looks at me and his smile drops.
"Did I say something wrong?" He asks me and I shake my head.
"No, I just realized that that's what everyone probably does. I hate being famous. I can't have anything to myself, or anyone. One way or the other, the media always finds out and then I'm scrutinized for my every move." I say, running my forehead.
I feel a headache coming on.
"That's what we signed up for." He says, shrugging as he hands me my food.
"You might have, but I sure as hell didn't. I became famous by mistake." I tell him and he laughs.
"I'm being serious. You signed an NFL contract and shot yourself to super stardom and I just started a company and got famous from there. What are the odds of that happening? I hate being in the public eye and I hate signing stupid autographs. Out there spraining my wrist and shit." I say and Zachary holds his stomach, dying of laughter.
"You're gonna make me choke on my burger." He tells me.
"Bottom line, the price of fame is this." I say, showing him the hate comments I was reading minutes ago.
"Screw them. They are fat assholes hiding behind a username and picture picked from Google. Their opinion doesn't matter." He says, waving it off.
"How are you so nonchalant about this?" I ask him.
"Because...I've been judged my whole life, so it's not new to me. I just don't give a fuck." He tells me, shrugging.
"Thank you for being here, Zach. You really didn't have to." I tell him.
"Oh, I did. If I had left you in that apartment how would you have gotten to the hospital?" He asks me.
"Uber." I retort.
"And get blood on his seats. I don't think the driver would like that." He says and I bury my face in my palm.
"Oh God, I got blood on your car seat didn't I?" I ask him.
"Yup, but I don't mind. I'll have your blood on my seat anytime." He says, winking at me.
"You're such a weirdo. I wish the girls that are fangirling over you could see this side of you." I say, chuckling.
"Never. You're the only one that has seen this side of me. I don't even show this side of myself to Sabrina." He says and I feel uncomfortable as he mentions his girlfriend's name.
"Why not?" I ask him.
"Because I don't feel comfortable around her yet." He tells me.
"But you guys have been dating for a year." I say and he raises his eyebrows as he stares at me.
"I see someone has also been putting Google to good use." He says and I laugh.
"It's not like that." I say, laughing.
"Then explain it to me, Vee." He says, folding his arms.
"Fine, I googled you." I admit and he claps his hands.
"So, you've been cyber stalking me. I'm going to file a restraining order against you." He jokes.
"That reminds me, when I get out of here I'm filing a restraining order against Andrè." I tell him.
"Andrè? Your driver?" He questions and I nod.
"Why?" He asks me.
"He behaved violently towards me." I reveal and Zachary's jaw tightens.
"Do I need to beat his ass?" He asks me, looking pissed.
"There'll be no need for that, my lawyer will handle him." I say, taking a bite out of my food.
"If you say so." Zachary says, shrugging.
We eat in comfortable silence before I fall asleep minutes after.
***
"Miss Stone, I'm going to need you to concentrate." The woman in front of me says.
I don't hear her though, I'm too busy looking around her office. She has a really beautiful chandelier in here. And these seats, ugh...they are so soft.
"Miss Stone?" The woman says again.
"Huh?" I say, staring at her.
"I asked you a question." She says, staring at me.
"Yeah, I'm not going to answer that." I tell her, clicking my tongue.
"Miss, you have to. If you want to stop coming here you have to comply with me." She says, looking annoyed. The lines on her forehead creasing.
"I don't need this shit." I tell her.
"You do. You're holding in a lot of trauma. You just had a miscarriage, it's normal. You need to let me help you." She says, staring at me.
I feel tears threatening to spill and I immediately get up from the soft sofa.
"I don't need this shit." I repeat before I walk out of her office.
I walk out of the building, heading to my car. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I take it out, staring at the screen.
Motherâ¤ï¸: We need to talk.
Ugh, I've been dreading this message. I knew my mother would try to contact me sooner or later. The more I ignore her, the more pressure she'll apply. I have to see her. I get into my car and I drive to my parents house in Soho.
Parking my car in my parents driveway, I see my mother on the front porch and I groan. I get out and I walk towards her.
"Valarie." She says, sounding surprised.
"Hey." I say, dryly.
"Are you okay? You look really sick." She asks me, putting her hands on each of my shoulders.
I don't reply, I just hug her and cry on her shoulder.