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The little pigeon blinks at me, lifting one leg to scratch behind his wing. Then, to add insult to injury, he shits on my sill.
"You know, you're making it kind of hard to defend your species, Herb," I grumble, placing a handful of seed onto the sill. "Really damn hard."
A brighter-sounding coo breaks the silence as Herb starts pecking at his breakfast, and my lips quirk in a smile as I take in the small white pigeon perched to Herb's left.
"Hello, Sally," I breathe, reaching out toward her snowy feathers. She fluffs and scootches away from me, her beady eyes trained on her mate with alarm.
"Sorry," I murmur, my smile dropping as I retract my arm. She doesn't trust me—and why should she? Just because her man said so? That hardly seems like a worthy enough reason to me.
"You better hold onto her, Herb. She's too smart for you." A laugh bubbles past my lips as Sally raises her head proudly, her beautiful feathers shining in the dawn light.
I walk to the bathroom with a spring in my step, stopping at the threshold to sneak one last look at the happy couple. Herb has abandoned his breakfast, his piercing black eyes watching the horizon for potential threats as his mate enjoys the seed at his feet.
It's adorable the way he dotes on her—watches out for her, even when she doesn't realize it. It almost reminds me of Kain.
Nope. Not going there.
I shake the thoughts away as a mighty sigh passes my lips, praying that a long shower will be enough to get my mind right in time for my shift.
I yank out my phone and open the scheduling app to check the rooms I'm assigned to, sighing when I see only a few on the list for today. I'm exhausted, and to top it off, every time I close my eyes, I get a flash of that scarred, mutilated face. It feels like the hospital walls have eyes, and each one is trained on my helpless, naive being.
I shake away that creeping sensation and pull my shoulders back, trudging over to the elevator and pressing the button for the post-op floor. I try to take a deep breath to calm my nerves, but the air in the cramped space is heavy and only compounds the problem. I can’t stop thinking about him, about the motives behind his actions. I’ve ruled out pure malice alone, but it brings me no peace of mind. Especially not after that last note.
I’m terrified—not of him but of my mind. Something sick and twisted is dying to come to the surface, and it frightens me. The more time that passes, the more I desire his advances in the dead of night, the more excited I feel by his bizarre gifts and gestures. I almost wish he would make contact. If I see him in person again, I might be able to figure out the mess my head is in.
“Come on, Lillith. Pull it together,” I murmur, squeezing my eyes shut tight as I try to stop the rapid rise and fall of my chest. I have to get through today. If I can do that, everything will be fine.
As soon as the doors slide open, I force my body upright and step out of the box, trying to fake a look of confidence as I make my way past the nurses' station to room 912. Raising my fist, I knock lightly on the door before pushing inside.
“Good morning! How are you feeling toda—” My voice stops short when I realize just who my first patient of the day is. “Sam,” I breathe, my eyes wide as I take in the thick white casts covering his legs. “What happened?”
The face that stares back is nearly unrecognizable. What were once handsome features have been reduced to a swollen, bruised mess. A thick piece of plaster is taped to the bridge of his nose, contrasting starkly with the purpled skin under his eyes. I take a step forward, my hand outstretched toward his shoulder. Even though he’d been a complete ass last night, I never wanted this to happen to him.
“You,” he whispers, his light blue eyes glowing with thinly veiled terror. “What are you doing? Get away from me!” he screams, his voice slightly garbed by the balls of cotton filling his bloodied mouth. “Help! Someone, please! Help me!”
“Whoa!” I jump back from him, holding my hands up in a defensive posture. “Relax, Sam. It’s me, Lilly. You know me,” I say, keeping my voice soft in an attempt to calm the feral look in his eyes. “Can I come back over now?”
“No!” he screeches, little droplets of crimson flying from his open mouth as he tries to shift farther away from me in the tiny bed. “Get the fuck away from me!”
“Hey, is there a problem here?”
“Yes!” he shrieks, blood and drool pooling down the side of his mouth. “You need to get her away from me!”
The tech darts her eyes back and forth between us nervously. “Sir, I promise that you’re in good hands. Why don’t you just—”
“GET HER AWAY!” he screams, the device holding his plastered legs in the air swaying from the force of his movements.
“Okay! Okay!” she relents, rushing into the room and over to his bedside. “We’ll get you someone else.” She turns her head to me. “I got it from here.”
“Yeah, okay,” I mutter, taking one last glance at Sam’s wary expression before turning on my heel and hurrying out of the room. I press my back against the door, forcing it closed and letting out my breath. My legs quake with the effort of having to hold me upright, and dark spots line my vision. Knowing I’m seconds away from passing out, I slide down the door to the ground, hanging my head between my knees as I attempt to take a few deep breaths.
I keel over to the side in a dry heave as the ground spins out from under me. It doesn’t make any sense. He was fine last night when I saw him drive away. What in God’s name could have happened in the few hours we were apart?
It was him, wasn’t it? He threw the brick last night, and now he’s hurt Sam.
My chest constricts in a blind panic as I remember the look on Sam’s face when he saw me just a moment ago. Oh God, did he do this because we went out last night? Or because he heard me struggling to get Sam to stop?
The worms, the flower, the lollipops—they were all so innocent. But this? This is too fucking far. This is wrong.
