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I don’t argue or say a word. Instead, I keep my gaze on his as I drink from the straw, sucking greedily at the cold liquid, trying to remember when the last time was I had something so good.
Félix pulls the cup back and sets it on the table, and sighs. “Swear we’ve all been worried as hell about you.”
“Funny,” I sneer, sarcastically curling my lip in disgust. “If that was the case, you wouldn’t have buried me.”
“Tristan.” He winces and shakes his head. “There are things you don’t know.”
“I don’t give a shit,” I snarl, my body jerking in anger. I narrow my gaze and shake my head.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t either . . .”
“You’re not me,” I grind out, interrupting him. I have no wish to hear him out. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“I know you, Tristan, you’re pissed and not wanting to hear it, but you need . . .”
“I don’t need shit.”
“Tristan.” He narrows his eyes, getting frustrated himself.
“Just get out,” I mutter, balling my hands into fists, clenching the flimsy white blanket they put over my lower half. I lean heavily against the pillow and shake my head. “I don’t need to hear what you’ve got to say. You don’t know shit, and you didn’t do shit. All I want right now is to be left the fuck alone,” I snarl the last sentence, glaring at him.
The heart machine connected to me starts beeping faster, but I’m not paying attention to it. No, I focus on my big brother and want him to see the fact I’m serious and don’t need or want him here. None of them. I don’t want to see my siblings. They didn’t do shit for me in the last god knows how long, and now I’m damaged.
“Tristan,” Félix tries again.
But I shake my head and point at the door and roar, “Get the fuck out. Leave me alone.”
“You can’t mean that, Tristan. We’re family.” I don’t miss the hint of pain in his voice.
“Get out. Get out. Get out,” I scream, ignoring the pain that shoots through my body as I bolt upright and demand he leave.
“Sir, I’m sorry, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” a nurse says, opening the door behind Félix and rounds him.
She doesn’t say anything else to my brother but focuses on me. “You need to calm down, Tristan, and lay back down.” She comes to stand next to my bed where my IV is, and she inserts something into the damn thing. “Just giving you something to ease the pain I’m sure you’re in,” she explains, looking at me with meaningful eyes. “You were a sight when you came in, and according to the hospital notes the doctor has, I can imagine the pain you must be feeling. Don’t try to tough it out.”
The more the woman talks, the more my head feels heavy. I relax into my pillow once more and close my eyes, letting the dark bleakness pull me under once more, hoping when I wake again that no one will be here. I also hope like hell the pain will be gone.
