Page 5 of Trailer Trash

He isn’t.

According to the toxicology report, he’s taken so many drugs that he probably doesn’t know what he’s withdrawing from.

“One more night,” the surgeon repeats, then dims the lights and leaves the room.

Killian rests his head against the pillow and checks the clock.

I brought a new book tonight. A romantasy. I never read books until Keysha forced me to join her book club. I’ll do anything for a good friend. Now I always have a book in my bag for the few times I have to watch a patient. It gets boring, especially when they sleep.

I sit in the corner and open my book. The dim light barely reaches me, but I can see the pages enough.

“Tell me I’m ugly,” he says abruptly.

I glance up, surprised.

“It really looks great,” I answer confidently this time.

“No, it doesn’t.”

He’s upset. I get it. I would be too.

“Name?” he presses.

“I’m Harlow. I’ll be by your bedside for the next twelve hours.”

“All night?”

I give a warm smile, but I’m uneasy. I fuss with my hair. My dark locks are piled on top of my head in a messy bun. Two long strands frame my face on either side. I didn’t expect to have a hot guy as a patient tonight. He is hot... if not for his new scars.

“Yep, I’m a CNA. They use us for suicide watch sometimes.”

“Suicide is for pussies,” he says, disgusted.

“Sorry! I meant safety watch... er, observation.”

He squints.

I speak faster.

“You were violent yesterday.”

Which is true. His chart doesn’t match that otherwise pretty face. He spat at a nurse. He ripped out IVs. He knocked over a table.

“Withdrawals.”

“Lots of people go through withdrawal and don’t throw things,” I whisper.

“What?”

“Nothing!” I yelp.

He stares, which makes me squirm in my chair.

“Get my pill,” he adds firmly.

Spoken like a true addict.

“Right,” I mumble and rise. “I’ll check with the nurse.”