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“Is Kye awake?” I asked, staring out of the doorway.
“For now, we’ve sedated Mr Knight; he fitted twice more while we administered the antidotes. It was easier to sedate him to avoid damage to his brain or body. Mr Knight has a large contusion on the back of his skull, which we think will give him a concussion.”
“The headboard is wooden. I bet Kye banged his head on it,” I answered.
“For now, Mr Knight is comfortable. But it would be helpful if you could explain to me everything, it will help us treat him. Obviously, I am worried because of the high dosage. I need to ensure I am not missing anything else.”
“Zyaire is the one to speak to; Kye wouldn’t let the rest of us into his appointments as he wanted to avoid upsetting us,” Johnno answered.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” the doctor asked Zyaire.
“Sure, want to do it here?” Zyaire replied.
“That would be fine.”
“Here,” Nana said, approaching with a backpack. I took it gratefully and headed to a toilet just down the hall to change. I slipped into a baggy tee and jeans. Nana had packed clean underwear, socks, and sneakers, and I was grateful. Without caring, I yanked a brush through the tangles in my hair and tied it back. On returning to the room, I saw Zyaire still answering questions and placed the bag at Nana’s feet.
“Hey, I need fresh air. Stay here, Jesse,” I requested. Jesse nodded and leaned into Saint, who wrapped an arm around Jesse’s shoulders. “Johnno, I know you have smokes. Give me the pack,” I whispered. Johnno pursed his lips and pulled them out. I snuck them into my jeans with Johnno’s lighter and left the room. A security guard approached.
“Chey?” he asked, looking worried. I recognised him as working for The Wild Wind.
“Need a smoke,” I replied, and he nodded. Quietly, he spoke to a nurse who gazed at me with wide eyes before leading me away. He opened a door, and I saw we were around the corner to the entrance. Gratefully, I sank to the floor and pulled Johnno’s smokes out.
“Can you watch the corner?” I asked as I tore open the packet. I yanked out a cigarette and lit it before inhaling deeply. Usually, I wasn’t a smoker, but in times of great stress, I’d been known to light one. Johnno was the same. Resting against the wall, I sat back and inhaled again. My hands were shaking as the enormity of what had happened hit me. Kye had nearly died because someone had fucked up his medication. Which meant there’d be hell to pay. The need for vengeance welled up inside me. I finished the cigarette and ground it out. Wearily and with the weight of the world on my shoulders, I rested my elbows on my knees and gazed at nothing.
Movement at the corner made me look up, and I stared into Chance’s burning eyes. The guard was keeping Hellfire from me, and I dropped my head before making the okay sign. I yanked out another smoke; I’d need this if I was going to deal with Chance. The lighter wouldn’t work, and, frustrated, I kept flicking it.
“Here,” Chance said and held a match. I lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply again. I sat in silence as Chance stared, and I heard other footsteps. Lighting a second off of the first, I ground it out and glanced up. Bear towered over me, with Big Al by his side. Dislike was rife in their eyes and no doubt matched by mine.
“Kye alive?” Chance finally asked. I nodded. “Need to get him into rehab.” Anger flared.
“Oh, you automatically think it’s drugs?” I sneered. “How judgemental.”
“Bitch, we hear stories about bands and narcotics all the time. What else can it be? Book your man into rehabilitation,” Chance growled.
“Screw you, Chance, you’ve no idea what’s wrong and neither do those vultures out there. Kye didn’t have an overdose.”
“Yeah, you keep denying it; you’re empowering, Kye,” Bear retorted.
“And fuck you, Bear. Thank you for the defibrillator and starting Kye’s heart. But fuck off,” I said tiredly. I’d no fight in me today to argue with Hellfire.
“Fine, we just wanted to make sure Kye was alive,” Chance sniped.
“Thanks to you, Kye is alive. So thank you for saving his life,” I muttered, taking another drag on the cigarette.
“Tell Kye from me; it’s a waste of time if he don’t kick the habit,” Big Al said, and my eyes narrowed.
“And I repeat, you might think he’s an addict, but Kye hates drugs. And I’m not discussing Kye’s health any further with you. So thank you once again, but please leave me alone,” I hissed. Kye, a junkie? I was sick of the accusation. Chance offered me one searching look and turned on his heel.
“Next time Kye overdoses, he may not be so lucky, Chey,” Chance shot as a parting comment. I let Chance have it; I didn’t need to have the last word in this argument. As they left, Mick jogged around the corner. Mick’s gaze settled on me before his long strides ate up the distance between us.
“Chey, shit’s all-over social media and news stations. Kye overdosed on cocaine. Different channels are saying the same rumours,” Mick stated, looking angry.
“Surprise,” I whispered.
“There’re pictures of you appearing rough and video of you screaming,” Mick added, and I frowned.
“Can’t say I care about that, Mick,” I replied.
