Page 85 of Relapse

David’s teeth grinded together, and his bloodshot eyes bore down into me. “You were probably the one who planned it.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “What?”

“You hired an assassin. You were trying to get rid of me,” David spat.

I tried to piece his words together for clarity. David was accusing me? He couldn’t be serious. Could he?

I stood up for him. After everything he did to me, I stood by him and took everything out on Silas. I ended my connection to someone who had done more for me than David ever had. Through all of the abuse and torture, I still picked loyalty to my family, my blood. I had said the words to Silas aloud:

“He’s still my father, goddammit!”

David was still fuming as my mind rang out, I stuck up for you.

I ripped myself from David’s grasp, shooting backwards, nearly taking myself out on one of his bedside rolling trays. Some of the contents clattered to the floor before I could regain my balance. In disbelief, I watched David reach for me, like a captured snake attacking the cup of a handler milking it, releasing its venom but doing absolutely no damage.

“Come here, you little brat!”

When my body remembered how to form words, I managed to hiss out, “How fucking dare you…”

Before the emotion could consume me further, I sped to the door, still hearing David uttering profanities in time with the rapid alarms of his blood pressure cuff and monitor. His nurses would be in soon.

Just before I exited, I looked back over my shoulder. “You know what?” I growled.

David’s hollering died in his throat. His eyes, wide with something that looked dangerously close to fear, locked onto mine. For the first time, his arrogant certainty was gone, replaced by panic. Not something I ever saw on his expression. Ever.

“I wouldn’t send someone to hurt you,” I snarled, taking a single step backwards towards him, so that he could see my face clearly when I said the next part. “I wouldn’t be satisfied with your death unless I killed you myself.”

The tension in the room was heavy, but I knew David couldn’t do anything to me. At least not now, in his current state. His oxygen cords pulsed outwards with each heavy breath, taut ropes across his chest. His eyes seemed to blacken as they focused on me.

He was weak. And he couldn’t hurt me. And he hated that I knew that.

The monitor sprung up again, and the silence around us was filled with the groaning sound of David’s blood pressure cuff starting up again, inflating and sealing tightly around his arm.

I took it as my cue to leave, exiting the room shutting the door behind me.

I could’ve sworn though, as the door latched into the frame, I heard David’s sharp whisper slide through the crack, his icy words pricking the skin on the back of my neck before the door closed:

“You’re going to regret the moment you said those words.”

Chapter twenty-one

Living in a Shell

DELANE

It was nearly two weeks before my life started to regain a pattern once again. Nonetheless, I continued to feel empty inside.

I had finally moved in with Chelsea, but no matter how hard I tried, I never felt comfortable there. It wasn’t my home, and I knew that.

There was an estate sale planned. A will to attend to. Legal matters I couldn’t escape.

My only refuge was in Noah.

I spent a lot of time with him lately. Despite her generosity, Chelsea was constantly leaving the house. She was a party girl—I wasn’t. She’d try to invite me out to places, get me to meet new people, but I always refused. I just couldn’t muster up the energy to deal with that level of socialization. So, Chelsea left for the night. Nearly every night. Maybe that was how she coped, and I wasn’t going to hold it against her. She’d been there for me when it counted. She hated herself for taking us to the vending machine in my mom’s last moments. She never said it, but I knew.

Even though I didn’t want to talk about it, nothing prepared me for being in another big house, alone.

Instead of wallowing in self pity, I would call Noah and ask if I could come over. It became such a routine that after class I would simply go home with him. Mrs. Hansen would fix us dinner, and we would spend the night talking about ridiculous things to get my mind off of everything.