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Luckily the barman is well versed in CPR and how to use a defibrillator and it isn’t long before we are rushed to the hospital and he is taken into the ICU. I can’t understand what is going on and the doctors are asking me all kinds of questions that I can’t answer. They’re convinced that he took some kind of drug, but he didn’t consume anything while I was with him. I don’t think they believe me, and I don’t give two craps whether they do or not. I just want him to be okay, so he can answer my questions, my reasons may be selfish but at least I’m honest.
Thirty minutes pass before I can go in and see him, his eyes are open but he has a tube in his mouth and he looks like he’s still knocking at death’s door.
“What happened?” I ask as I sit down beside him and he uses his hand to mime a pen, I grab one from the table in his room and a piece of paper and he writes ‘Poison.’
“No, that can’t be right,” I state dumbly, and he writes something else before the pen slips from his hand and his eyes roll back.
He starts convulsing and the machines attached to him are going crazy. Nurses and doctors rush in and I’m forced to leave the room, but not before I grab the piece of paper and return to the waiting room.
Run, keys, pocket. That’s what he wrote as well as ‘not Dante’ not a great help, but if he wants me to run then I will. I just don’t know what I’m running from anymore.
“Will he live?”
My head shoots up as I take in a nineteen-year-old who looks haggard and drawn, his skin is pale and his eyes are bloodshot. He looks how my mum does when she’s coming down from a bender.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, a sense of dread twisting my stomach up until I feel like I’m going to puke all over the waiting room floor.
“Will he live? I get more if he dies,” that’s all he says as he stands up and wanders out of the room.
I rush out of my seat and watch as he walks out of the ICU and ducks around the corner, I don’t know why I’m chasing him but if he did something to Sawyer then I need to know what. The why isn’t important, if I know what he used then the doctors may have more of a chance of helping him, but luck is not on my side. I slam into the wall as I take the corner too fast and his eyes meet mine as he enters the lift and presses for the doors to close. I push harder, trying to get there before they close and then I see who’s with him. I’ve never seen this girl before, but her eyes are as lifeless as Dante’s and her mouth is pulled into the most insidious smile I have ever seen. She brings her thumb to her throat and slides it across slowly, as the junkie slides down the wall of the lift and looks up and her like she’s his saving grace. She’s too much like Dante for it to be a coincidence, which means even if Sawyer wasn’t a threat she sure as hell is!
I WALK BACK into the hotel room and I feel nothing, I’m numb and tired, so, so tired. How much more of this can I take? It’s only been ten days and we’ve been through so much already. The human condition can only handle so much right, so where is my breaking point because I think I’m dangerously close to it and I don’t know how I will or if I could recover.
My eyes meet Harrison’s and I’ve seen him angry, but this is new, scary even. It just doesn’t scare me, I know he wouldn’t hurt me so there’s nothing to fear, other than him turning his back on me.
“Where have you been?” He shouts, his face thunderous and I wasn't wrong about my breaking point as under different circumstances this wouldn’t make me cry but I’m already sobbing like a child and he looks terrified.
“What happened?” His voice has softened, and it only makes my tears fall harder and my sobs grow louder and stronger until I’m on the floor curled up in a ball.
I feel his hand run down my back as he tries to uncurl me, but my arms are curled around my knees and I refuse to yield. He scoops me up in his arms and I turn my face into his chest, letting his warmth seep into me. I want it to chase away the bone chilling fear that’s setting in, but maybe that isn’t possible until this is all over.
He carries me over to the bed but instead of laying me on it, he sits himself down and spreads his legs out, keeping me curled up on his lap. I think I can feel his lips on my forehead, but I can’t think about that right now. I don’t want to think about anything at all.
“I’m still mad at you,” he whispers against my ear and his breath sends tingles shooting through me, but it barely registers.
I sit here curled up in him, my head pressing against his chest, hearing his heart beating strongly. It’s reassuring and it's helping, I just don’t like the fact that Harrison is the one helping to make me feel better. Is it wrong? Should I feel guilty about it? Should I even care? So many questions and no one to answer them.
“I need you to talk to me Henleigh,” I stiffen and his hand runs up and down my spine, before curling round the back of my neck and massaging gently. “When you’re ready, but tomorrow at the latest woman, I need to know. You can’t keep me in the dark and you can’t go off on your own.”
I nod my head in agreement and it must appease him, but he doesn’t stop massaging my neck and even a tension as strong as mine wouldn’t last against it. I start to relax a little more as he lays me on the bed, and he starts working on the knots I’m holding on my back. I have no idea why he’s doing this, but I don’t dare speak in case he stops. He keeps at it for thirty minutes before he pulls away and my body is like jelly.
“I’m going to run you a bath and then you can get some sleep, this is your only pass Henleigh. Come tomorrow you are filling me in, and you better not leave a single damn thing out,” I won’t argue with him, it just isn’t worth it.
He leaves the room and comes back in when the water turns off, he picks me back up before depositing me onto the toilet.
“I’ll make sure I don’t come in here until you’re out,” he says looking as awkward as anything.
“Thank you,” I whisper, as he looks at me with a half-smile before leaving the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
HE’S livid as I go over everything that transpired yesterday, not that I expected any less. He isn’t happy that I sneaked out, but the events seem to be distracting him enough to direct his anger at the others instead of me.
“Do you believe this Sawyer guy was being honest?” Seriously, that’s his first question? After everything I just told him. What is up with that?
“I think he was. I can’t say if he’s one of the good guys, but I don’t think he was working for Dante. I think he’s the reason Sawyer nearly died,” I reply glumly, hating that another life was put at risk because of some silly vendetta that I do not understand.
“What happened after the lift closed?” He asks, putting a cup of coffee before me and I can’t help but inhale its heavenly scent.
“I went back to the ICU and waited to be let back in, he was comatose, and I don’t know what’s going to happen. They need to figure out what he was given, I just hope they can work it out before it's too late. I checked his jacket pocket and it had a pair of car keys in it, and when I worked out where the car was, I brought it back here. We won’t even have to worry about license plates as the boot is full of them, I don’t know who he is, but he came prepared. We have to go again, I just don’t know where,” I say, feeling confused, conflicted and a heavy dose of morose.
