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He nods his head.
“And drinking?”
He nods again.
“She can’t wake up to her brother strung up, Brody. Go and get clean. I’ll sit with her.”
Brody does something that instantly reminds me of her. He bites the inside of his cheek.
“Maybe I need rest.” He nods, confirming. “You won’t leave her side, though?” he asks.
“Of course not.”
Brody points to Chanel’s room before he walks off.
With quick steps, I walk into her room. She’s lying on the bed, eyes closed, a tube down her throat, and so many machines around her, the noise is over the top.
The scene in front of me is crushing.
Overwhelming.
Shocking.
I stay.
All night.
Then the next day.
During that time, Chanel does not move.
She merely sleeps.
And eventually, so do I.
“Do I know you?” Her demure voice pulls me from my sleep.
When I focus my tired eyes on her, I see she is sitting up in her bed, the tubes no longer in her throat, the machines are all but gone.
How can she be so bruised, so battered, and so stunningly beautiful?
“Did you say something?” I ask, standing and walking over to her.
The door opens before she can say anything more, and Brody steps in, showered and in a clean set of clothes. “Brody.” She smiles.
“I heard you woke up. How you feeling?” he asks, standing on the other side of her bed.
Chanel glances at me, and her puzzled eyes lock on mine. “Do I know you?” she asks again, with confusion written all over her face.
“Chanel, he’s only been gone two years.” Brody laughs.
She touches her head and keeps looking at me.
“Lucas,” I offer her my name.
“Lucas,” she repeats, nodding, but there’s no recognition at all in the way she says my name.
“Chanel, how do you not know Lucas?”
