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“You, fool!” Pocus yells, angrily throwing aside the chair. “Don’t tell me you were about to jump off the roof because this bastard told you to. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Oh my God, Nicholas!” Victoria cries. She stands up from the wheelchair and starts to run toward me. My chest swells with joy, and soft laughter escapes my throat. Just as my legs start to propel me toward her, a gunshot stops me in my tracks. I look up to see Edward holding the gun I’d kicked out of his hand earlier. Just as he’s about to pull the trigger again, Pocus shoots, and Edward falls to the ground. I glance over at Victoria. She’s standing a few feet in front of me with a shocked expression on her face. She slowly places a hand on her stomach and raises her bloody fingers to her face as if to confirm the first gunshot hit her. I run toward her just as she starts to fall to the ground, catching her in my arms.
I sit on the ground, holding her to my chest. “Victoria?” I call tentatively, scared that she’d really not answer me.
I raise a shaky hand to caress her face. “Come on, Victoria. Open your eyes. Baby, please.” I look up to Pocus. “Help, Pocus…,” I beg him. Tears spill down my face, unchecked. “She’s not… she’s not breathing.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Victoria is sleeping so soundly that it’s hard to believe she’s just been tortured and shot. Or maybe she looks so peaceful because she’s taking refuge in oblivion.
I look up to Graveyard, who’s busy setting up a new IV fluid. He steps away from the bed with a soft sigh.
“Do you think she has amnesia?” I ask quietly.
Graveyard shakes his head. “I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean you’re not sure?” I ask irritably, trying to keep my voice level, so I don’t wake Victoria up. “She’s been this way for three days. She doesn’t speak to me or anyone. She doesn’t even seem like she recognizes any of us.”
“But she recognizes her environment,” Graveyard counters. “And that’s the problem. I’ve carried out tests and there’s nothing to suggest that has any form of amnesia. She answers all my questions correctly, albeit without speaking.”
“Is this a side effect of the gunshot wound?”
“No, Seer. She was shot in the stomach not the head,” Graveyard replies softly. “The bullet barely penetrated her skin, and the wound is healing nicely. This is more psychological than physical.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, shaking my head slowly. “She was fine right before she got shot. She called my name and was running toward me.”
“But you said she was weird before that, right?” Graveyard asks.
“Yeah,” I reply, shrugging a little. “Well… she was hurt, but she kept looking at me like she couldn’t see me… like she wasn’t aware of her environment.”
“See? I don’t know what Edward did to her when she was abducted, but I believe that’s where the problem lies. She had no sign of physical abuse whatsoever, so it must be psychological. What she recognized before getting shot wasn’t you, but your situation. I think Victoria will be fine with time. On the other hand, Edward is still in a coma and….”
“I didn’t ask about Edward,” I cut in coldly. “I don’t give a damn if the bastard dies and goes to hell.”
“You don’t mean that,” Graveyard says, looking into my eyes like he could see an emotion that even I didn’t know was present. “You say that, but your eyes say something else.”
“I should have let him bleed out on that rooftop,” I mutter under my breath.
“But then you couldn’t,” Graveyard says quietly. His eyes are understanding, but I feel the guilt anyway. Grave was right. In the end, I was the coward who dragged Edward’s ass down thirty flights of stairs because somehow I just couldn’t leave him behind. Again.
“Is he… will he be all right?” The words flew out of my mouth, despite my stomach churning in protest.
Graveyard shakes his head solemnly. “I can’t say. The hit to his head was pretty bad. The bullet barely missed his heart. It’s going to take a miracle.”
“Isn’t that ironic?” I scoff. “I guess even scumbags deserve a miracle.”
“Don’t we all?” Grave says with a humorless snicker. Graveyard places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. “Take it easy on yourself, man. Victoria will come around.”
“I hope so,” I say, dropping my face into my hand with a shaky sigh. “I fucking hope so.”
* * *
Seer is looking at me with that sad longing in his eyes again as he waits for me to swallow my meds. I take the glass of water from his hand, take a sip and return it to him before lying back on the bed and turning my attention to him. His sadness pierces my heart, and a tear rolls down my cheek on the bed.
I feel so bad for letting him run with the assumption that I have amnesia, but it’s all I can do not to break into a thousand irredeemable pieces. I want to talk to him… crawl into his arms and have him hold me while I cry into his chest. I want to get rid of that fear and guilt in my eyes each time he looks at me. I want to tell him everything will be all right and make him believe me. I want to do so many things, but I can’t seem to find the energy to start. My soul is too weary from trying to keep the oppressive memories that Edward released at bay. It’s everything I can do to hold on. It feels like if I let go I’d get so lost in my head that I’d never be able to find myself again. I wish I could find a way to explain this to everyone. I look forward to each new day that comes with the hope that I’ll feel better, but then the noises in my head grow so loud that I have to shut down.
As I lay here, enshrouded by a solemn silence that seems to be the new norm between Seer and me, I wish for strength. For me. For Seer.
