Episode 3

ALLANA

During the drive to the hospital, he didn't let go of my hand for even a minute. It's as if he glued it there, unrelenting like gum.

He has an oxygen mask on his face, his eyes are shut, yet the grip of his hand is quite firm. He's very handsome and I could tell that he is at once arrogant and sensitive. He doesn't even know me, yet he grabbed my hand to stay with him. It's cute, but also really odd.

Considering he knows no one, and I, although a stranger, was the only one to notice he was feeling ill and helped him.

Yet he seems crazy, but at the same time looks like a lonely man with nobody. His face is beautiful but with a somber expression. It's actually scary; his gaze alone is intimidating.

The ambulance arrives at the hospital, and I go with him as far as I'm allowed. Then, the nurses stop me, say something—I think they told me to wait here, extending a hand like a stop sign.

But what should I do here? I don't even know who this man is. I better go back to selling my candies since that's more profitable. I won't earn anything here, unless I start offering them to the people here, which isn't a bad idea considering there are many. A little sweet can calm the heart.

A woman in a white coat touches my shoulder, starts speaking, and I interrupt her.

"Sorry, I only speak, I can't hear. If you use sign language, I understand. If not, just write it down on paper for me to read."

She places a hand on her chest, bowing her head apologetically.

She gestures me to follow and leads me to the reception desk. She writes on a piece of paper, handing it to me to read.

-- Are you related to the patient\, miss?

"I'm not related to him, I was selling candies at the traffic light, and he got sick in his car. I asked for help, and he held on to me to come along." — I respond calmly to her.

She looks at me and writes on the paper again before showing it to me.

-- Do you know his name?

"No, ma'am. Like I said, I don't know him. But he must have his documents in his wallet, right? Just check his pockets and you'll find out."

She nods and gestures for me to wait with her hands. Great, I am missing out on making money here.

She leaves and takes a while, then comes back and writes on the paper again.

-- He said that you're his fiancee\, asked me to bring you to him.

I laugh out loud, fiancee? It must be a joke. Where did she get that from? It's worth a loud laugh.

"I'm homeless, doctor. Do you really think I'm the fiancee of that rich guy? Look at me, look at my clothes, and you saw his clothes, all fancy in a suit and tie?"

She looks at me, puzzled—where did this fiancee story come from?

She takes my hand and leads me to the room where he is being treated.

He sees me and gives me a tired smile with his drooping eyes, and I'm lost in confusion. Where's Mr. Arrogance? That man who rolled up his window on me.

He and the doctor talk, and I stand there lost, not knowing what to do. I'd prefer to leave this place.

"Well, goodbye, I'm leaving. Get well soon, mister. But I have lots to sell still." — I say, already turning towards the door, and the doctor touches my arm, gesturing for me to look at him.

He beckons me closer and gestures for me to wait with his hands.

"Wait for what? I have nothing to do here. I don't even know you, 'man'."

He just gestures for me to wait. I huff at this, what kind of farce is this?

The doctor leads me to a chair, and I sit down. Seems like I'll have to wait for the handsome patient to be discharged, just my luck.

It takes roughly two hours for him to be well enough, and I thank God for that, having not sold a single candy because of him.

But as I'm leaving, he grabs my hand and starts pulling me out.

The police have brought his car to the hospital, and he leads me to the door and opens it for me to get in.

"Look, man, I know you’re grateful because I saved your life, but I'm not going anywhere with you."

He gestures again for me to get in.

"I won't get in your car. I'm going back to my spot. I don't have rent to pay, but I have a stomach to fill. So, excuse me."

I start to leave and he catches my arm, pulling with some strength, he forces me into the car and locks the door.

I try to open the door and start banging on the window, he gets in on the other side, starts the car, and speeds off.

I cross my arms and look out the window. This guy is an idiot. Actually, it's better if he just takes me back since he brought me here.

But I notice he's not taking me towards the traffic light. He's going a different way, and this worries me a lot.

Eventually, he stops in front of a luxurious house. What the heck am I doing here? The massive gate opens, and he drives in.

He gets out of the car, and I'm scared when he walks around and opens my door.

I scoot to the driver's side, and he stretches over, grabs my arm, and pulls me out; he's dragging me while I try not to go with him.

But he opens a large door and keeps dragging me until we reach a staircase. At this point, I grab the railing, making him stop dragging me.

I look at him fearfully, he smiles and hoists me onto his shoulder.

"Let go, you caveman, put me down, I want to leave."

He carries me while I pound on his back. I look up to see some people—I think they're the housemaids—all in uniforms, hands over mouths, watching us.

He carries me to the last room in the corridor, opens the door and flings me onto the bed.

Throws me, literally.

I look at him with anger and fear, afraid he might try something with me here.

He doesn't say a word, just leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

I rush to leave as well and realize he's locked it.

I start banging desperately for him to open, pounding until my hand starts to hurt.

Crazy man, what does he want with me?

Is he planning to sell me? Or sell my organs? Or does he want me to be an organ donor for him?

Oh no, I'm not giving him my organs.

I go to the window and check if a jump could work, but the house is too high, and I'd break my legs.

That would be the end for me, deaf and crippled.

I have to think, I must get out of here; he's a mad psychopath, could even be a serial killer.

I keep looking at the window, trying to figure out the perfect escape, until I feel a hand on my shoulder.

I turn around, and he's there, serious, handing me a piece of paper, and with fear, I take it and start to read.

"Sleep well tonight, Allana, because tomorrow will be our wedding. I'll be waiting for you at the altar."

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