In the morning, Stacey woke up to bustling nurses and two doctors. The handsome stranger who had called himself her husband was gone.
The doctors asked her a plethora of questions to find out her state of mind and what she remembered. They examined her body, her ability to move and coordination. At the end of all of it, she felt exhausted, as if she had just sat for a long and difficult exam. Stacey wasn't entirely sure what it had all been for. Her mind had gone fuzzy with fatigue.
"It's alright," the first doctor said kindly. "You'll find you get tired and confused very easily for a few weeks. You had a subdural haemorrhage - that is, you had bleeding in the lining of your brain as a result of being hit in the head. Luckily, we managed to deal with it in time. We also removed some of your older, smaller haematomas - blood clots - during the surgery while we were at it. In short, you had a new brain injury on top of an older, unresolved one. We've removed the blood clots so they won't press on your brain, but it will take time for the injured and bruised areas of your brain to recover. We've never seen anything like your original head injury and so can only keep an eye on things."
Stacey stared, finding it difficult to comprehend what the doctor was saying. She was that tired. It didn't make sense.
"Moving around might be painful while your chest injury is still healing up," the second doctor said. "The loose bits of your ribs have been properly secured, so you can do whatever activity you want as long as you can tolerate the pain. You're lucky one of your broken ribs only nicked the edge of a lung and cut the lining. It could have been more serious. We weren't sure you'd pull through the infection, but you have. You're still young and strong, so we expect a good recovery."
"Your memory may come back with time," the first doctor shrugged. "Everyone's first battle is usually a very traumatic experience. Things might take a little longer than you expect to come good, but it will get better. Your mental health wasn't good before. You underwent berserker training and you had a prior brain injury, so don't push yourself too much. Take it easy."
A battle? Where in this day and age was there a war on this laid back backend of the world? Earlier, the doctors and nurses had frowned and clicked their tongues at some of her answers. Was she so out of it that she had lost track of all current affairs? Had she gotten a lot of her personal information wrong too?
If she thought about it, it was indeed true. She didn't know where in the world she was, let alone what the date was. If she couldn't figure out something as simple as what day of the week it was, it wasn't a surprise that she knew nothing about current world affairs.
So she'd been in a battle. Somehow that didn't seem right. And yet it would make sense if she had been injured so badly. She could see all sorts of blue and yellow-green bruises on her arms. Not to mention all the scratches and abrasions. It was strange because Stacey was pretty certain that she didn't know how to fight. Also, since when had she gotten a brain injury before? There was nothing wrong with her brains, thank you very much. Unbelievable.
"Try and get up and moving as soon as you feel comfortable," both doctors told her. "Inform the nurses when you want to get up."
Stacey had her breakfast and then had another nap. A nurse helped her to the toilet and back again, just in time for lunch. After lunch, Stacey took a short walk outside her room. She noticed that her room only had one bed. Other rooms were shared between two, four or six people. Why did she have a private room? She wasn't rich. Or at least, she didn't think she had a lot of money. Didn't private rooms cost a lot more?
While she was exploring, she was suddenly attacked by an angry and distraught woman.
"It's all your fault, you stupid little minx," the woman screeched, slapping her face and pulling her hair. Stacey cried out in pain and backed away in confusion. "It's all your fault my Linlin is never going to be able to fulfill her dream. She'll never be able to dance or play music again. I'll kill you!"
Stacey fell down amidst the woman's rough punches and kicks. Falling down, Stacey curled up, covering her head with her hands until security came to pull the violent woman away. A very sore and extremely confused Stacey was led back to her room.
"Why did that woman attack me?" Stacey asked a nurse, while she limped back to her room, holding her chest. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No," the nurse snorted, shaking her head. "It's not your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault, but some people are using you as a scapegoat and blaming you for being the cause of the battle. If it wasn't you, it would have been some other young lady who would be blamed. Some people are that unreasonable. They always have to find someone else to blame. Just remember. It's not your fault. You can retaliate and defend yourself if you need to."
"Scapegoat for a battle? What was the battle for?"
"What are any battles for these days?" the nurse snorted, sitting Stacey down to take inventory of her new injuries. "Where does it hurt?"
Stacey pointed and the nurse examined her swollen cheek and new bruises. She didn't have the chance to ask the nurse anything further about the battle. Battles weren't common. She was sure they weren't, so why was the nurse's reaction so small, as if battles were common events?
"Thank goodness you're fine. We're going to get in big trouble with your husband as it is for not preventing the assault."
"It wasn't your fault," protested Stacey. "That woman was crazy."
"I kind of pity her," the nurse flicked a hand. "Her only daughter's ankle was fractured and displaced. A tendon on one hand was partially torn, so that she has trouble gripping. Her daughter is never going to be able to dance again, let alone walk normally. She was doing so well in your TV program too. So many of the trainees have had to drop out because of the battle. At least they've decided to suspend filming until everyone still participating has mostly recovered from the battle. At least it's not like the military show. People die and get injured in that one all the time. The winner is usually the luckiest person who survives the three months of hellish training and all the battles with the beastmen that they participate in."
"Huh?"
Getting injured in a battle sounded reasonable. Why there might be battles though, Stacey still didn't understand. Also, why was there such a harsh military show? People dying on television? That didn't seem right no matter how she thought about it. And she was a part of a TV program as well? That didn't seem right. There was no way she'd join a television show. Was it as dangerous and cutthroat as that military program the nurse was talking about? And then beastmen. What were beastmen? Were they furry eared people with tails?
"Ah, I forgot," the nurse touched her forehead. "You've gone and forgotten everything again. If I have time later, I'll come and explain. Otherwise, you should get your husband or one of your friends to remind you of things. I have to hurry back to make a report. They'll be waiting on me to finish the incident reports. Don't leave your room. We'll arrange something to ensure your safety."
The nurse hurried away and Stacey rubbed her sore and heavy head. It was hurting again. And not just because she'd been kicked in the head again just now.
Thieren rushed into the room while she had been lying with her eyes closed, trying to calm her headache. He pulled her into sitting and looked her all over, peeking into her hospital gown without any regard for her dignity. She slapped him away.
"Hey! Hands off!" Stacey hugged her chest and scolded. He might be her 'husband', but she hadn't accepted him yet. Even if he was really her spouse, there was no way she'd let him take advantage of her like that. "Pervert! How dare you?"
"I'm sorry," Thieren took a step back and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. "Sorry."
"If this is about the assault, don't blame the hospital. They couldn't be expected to know that a visitor would suddenly go crazy and attack me. It's hard for that person already anyway. Don't make too much trouble. Much as I dislike that woman and what she did, an apology will do. I heard her daughter is badly injured. If I were a mother, I might've done the same. No good mother would be able to stay sane when her child had been injured."
"She assaulted you," Thieren exploded with cold fury, causing Stacey to flinch and quail. "She should apologise, yes, and give some compensation. You're my wife! She dared to attack my wife! If I don't make an example of her, some people will act as if they have forgotten who I am and trample all over you."
"Just - just don't go overboard," she said in a small voice. "I'd probably be feeling crazy if I was her too."
"Then what about the other families who have lost their children?" Thieren hissed. "Should I let them try to kill you too? No way. You're my wife and they'd better remember it. Stay in your room from now on unless you have bodyguards with you. I'll arrange the bodyguards. Don't worry about anything and get better."
Stacey gulped. She really wanted to hide from him right now. The man was handsome, but his temper scratched at like the icy claws of a furious blizzard. Scary. Way too scary.
"Ok. I'm sorry," she shrank back from him.
"What are you apologising for?" the man rounded on her with another explosion.
Stacey fell out of the bed with a squeak.
Thieren deflated and immediately rushed around the bed to where she was in order ensure she was not injured.
"I'm sorry," he apologised, kissing her on the forehead and hugging her tight. "I'm sorry. I lost my temper. I'll go and deal with everything for you now. Don't go out. Wait until I send you your bodyguards. Are you alright? You're not hurt?"
He helped her back onto the bed.
"It's ok. I'm fine," Stacey whispered.
"Good. You'd better be. Make sure you tell me if you're not."
He kissed her forehead, nose and both cheeks.
"Get off me," Stacey grumbled, pushing him away. She wasn't about to tell him that the kiss on her sore cheek had suddenly made it feel less sore. She still didn't know what to make of him, and couldn't accept his kisses.