I was underwater, everything bevelled and out of range, sound distorted.
Voices, maybe? Someone was yelling at me…I think. Was someone here?
No. No. No. No. No. No.
I didn’t want to be saved. I couldn’t be saved. Please let this all be a dream.
Nova must have been stepping on my cheeks because I felt a pressure on top of me, squeezing my mouth together. Before Icould push her off of me, something plunged into my mouth at the back of my throat.
I choked, coughing at the intrusion. Once again, something was shoved into my mouth, pressing at the back of my throat.
Tears fell.
I was choking.
Who was taking advantage of me? Why would they do this to me? I couldn’t go out this way.
Everything riled in my stomach, turning and bubbling within. It all forced its way up and out of my body onto the floor. I couldn’t stop. My body convulsed. Everything inside me was coming out.
“Shhh, shhh, babe. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here for you,” the voice of an angel whispered calmly.
“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” I mumbled, unsure if my sentence even came out right.
* * *
When I woke, I was somewhere unfamiliar. I was connected to IV drips, heart rate monitors, and my most hated—restraints. Sitting in the chair next to my bed was Asher.
He was asleep. I didn’t want to startle him awake. Instead, I laid there, feeling sorry for myself.
I hadn’t completed my task, nor was I happy at the results of where it landed me. I was in the hospital, likely on a Form 1, keeping me in here for a seventy-two-hour hold. Rachel would find out. She would be so fucking disappointed in me, and I don’t even want to begin to think about what this meant for me in the program involvement.
Would I still be eligible?
“You’re awake,” he said softly.
I was startled out of my hazy thoughts. I nodded. Everything was sore. My body ached, and I was miserable.
“Lennon—”
“No. Let me speak first, Asher—” I tried to cut in, but he startled me by cutting me off in return.
“No. Listen, Lennon, it’s my turn.”
I silently awaited what he had to say because he looked every bit hurt and angry all wrapped into one neat package.
“I love you, Lennon.”
My world tilted off course, the speed in which I processed the living around me slowed, and my brain short circuited.
What? What did he mean he loved me? I couldn’t be loved. I was unlovable on a good day. Let alone in this scenario.
But then I thought about it. All the times he sat by my side when anger pooled out of every orifice. All the times in which he spoke so sweetly on the days I couldn’t even muster up the courage to be kind. Asher was the light in all things dark. The contrast of living versus the dead. Maybe, in some sick way, he could love what I brought to the table.
But what I brought wasn’t much. In fact, he probably had to contribute far more than I could possibly offer.
“Asher, can I say something? But you have to let me finish?” I requested softly. “It isn’t going to be easy for me to say out loud, and it might take me a second.”
He nodded, allowing me the space to say what I needed to, and I knew he would.
