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She was born wrestling for her next breath, for her next heartbeat. Holding on until she couldn’t anymore.
“A life for a life,” I tell him as I follow him through doorways covered with plastic construction sheeting.
How’s this place even open?
Leo’s phone buzzes, and when he checks it, he looks up at every corner. “Freddie’s disabled the cameras. Let’s get this shit done.”
Veering off in the opposite direction, I continue following him. He knows where he’s going. Walking past an abandoned nurses’ station, he pulls one of the crash trolleys with him into one of the darkened rooms.
The place smells like death simmered to a slow rot.
I fucking hate hospitals.
Closing the door behind me, I pull the privacy curtain across the front of it before I turn and take in my surroundings.
There are six beds in this room. They’re all on top of the other, barely any room to move around them. There aren’t any visitor chairs. There’s no sign of any life except for the four other people—the three standing, looking at me, and Jack.
He already looks battered and bruised. Nothing that can’t be fixed though. Good—I’m going to enjoy being the one that changes that.
Parking the trolley beside the bed, Leo sits on the edge. He’s watching him with a disgusted twist to his lips as he snaps on some gloves and then throws me a pair.
It’s no secret they’ve never been close. They’ve always been pitched against each other. Their grandfather always encouraged their rivalry, making it seem like he favoured Leo, but in the end, it was all a distraction.
Taking another step toward Jack as I pull the latex gloves on, I contemplate all the ways I could go about this. Smothering him in his sleep. Overdosing him on the morphine…choking the breath out of him with my bare hands…
None of those options are good enough. I want him to hurt as he feels death chilling his flesh, snuffing the life out of him. I need him to bleed like my wife. I want him gasping and physically trying to grasp his breaths like my daughter did.
“What are you waiting for?” Freddie asks Leo from behind me, his impatience palpable. “Wake the motherfucker up!”
Not waiting for him to take action, Freddie steps around me and strides over to the bed. Without hesitation he wraps his glove sheathed hands around Jack’s throat, pulling him up until he’s wide awake…eyes bulging…
He can’t lift his cuffed hands to fend Freddie off, but his legs are kicking like that will help him. Eyes finding mine, they round in plea or something before they snap to Leo, and I wonder if he really thinks that we would help him.
Coming closer, I take a good look at his face. I’m trying to find something that will make me regret this.
“Drop him.”
Freddie looks back at me, demented. “No fucking way. This bitch is done. Arabella… Cassie… Kit… Grandad…”
He lists out all the names one by one. I don’t know if he’s doing it to rile him or to make sure that Jack knows who this is for. All I know is that the more I hear her name, the deeper the wound gets, the more it festers, and I can feel it take over me. Every part of me lusts for blood.
“Drop. Him,” Leo snarls at him, his eyes never leaving his cousin.
“You don’t get to change your mind,” Freddie spits at him before fixing his scowl on me. “This piece of shit is done.”
Dropping Jack into a twisted heap on the bed, Freddie takes a half step back. “If you two are too fucking chicken, I’ll do it.”
“Chicken?” A dry laugh erupts from Leo’s lips as he pulls the medical trolley towards the bed.
Jack’s petrified gaze flickers between us. He wants one of us to help him—too bad, we’re not saviours. Not today and definitely not his.
Opening one of the drawers, Leo takes out some packets of gauze. He rips them open until there’s a healthy wad in his hand. He arranges them on top of the trolley carefully with all the other paraphernalia he pulls out.
He’s so meticulous with everything, opening and closing one drawer and then another. I can’t help but follow his every move with my gaze, just like Jack.
Standing, Leo rounds to the end of the bed, filling one of the urine sample cups with some of the hand sanitiser clipped onto the frame.
Casper pulls the empty bed beside him closer to Jack’s, and when he looks at me, all I see is controlled rage.
