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I waited to break.
To plummet into hysterics.
But all I felt was numb.
Terribly, horribly numb.
Bending over him, I stroked his cheek. “Aslan, baby. Please, open your eyes. We have to go home now.”
“Go?!” The driver choked. “He’s unconscious. He’s probably dead. He can’t go anywhere.”
My voice was ice and eerily calm. “We can’t be here when the ambulance arrives. I need to get him home.”
The guy’s eyebrows shot up. “He needs a doctor.”
“He can’t see one.”
He shook his head as if he believed he’d run me over as well. Pure panic etched his face. Crawling toward me, he winced as he pressed two fingers to Aslan’s blood-smeared throat. He held my stare as he waited for his pulse.
In some foggy part of me, I screamed and tried to shake myself awake.
I should be doing that.
It should’ve been the first thing I did.
Wake up.
This is just a dream.
WAKE UP!
Exhaling heavily, the guy dropped his hand. “He’s still alive.”
Pain slashed through me.
Agonising relief.
Blistering guilt.
My dead heart woke up, kicking with renewed hope and lifeforce. “Help me take him home. Drive us.”
His mouth fell open. “Did you not hear me? He needs to go to the hospital. This is my fault. I’m not letting him go anywhere unless it’s to get medical help. If there’s the smallest chance he won’t die, then I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure he survives.” Fresh tears fell. “I can’t go to jail for this. I can’t.”
I felt nothing for him.
Just loathing.
Blocking him out, I curled up beside Aslan on a bed made of glass with blankets made of night. I wrapped my arm around his cooling chest and pressed my face to his neck. His pulse fluttered faintly against my lips, granting an avalanche of love.
He’s alive.
He’s not gone.
He’s alive!
Dread followed that wonderful knowledge, and I sat up again with renewed determination.
All the nudges of my youth. All those knowings I’d listened to when I was younger stabbed me, blade after blade.
He can’t go to the hospital.
He’s alive.
He’s mine.
But if he goes, they’ll know.
They’ll find out who he is.
They’ll take him—
Hysteria chose that moment to infect me, and I did something that seemed so understandable in my smoggy head but most likely looked deranged.
I slapped him.
I slapped him right on the cheek and hissed, “Wake up right now, Aslan Avci. If you don’t, you won’t wake up at all, do you hear me? They’re coming. They’re coming for you, and I won’t be able to stop them if you don’t wake the hell up!”
“Shit, stop that!” The driver launched himself at me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing hitting him?”
“Let go of me!”
“No way. Just sit still until help arrives.” He looked at Aslan with such remorse. “Hey, Aslan, is it? Mr. Avci. Please, man. Hold on. Help’s coming.”
“Don’t you dare use his name. You’re not worthy of using it. You’re the reason he’s hurt! And it’s not help that’s coming.” I bared my teeth and shoved him away. “It’s death.”
“What? Of course, it’s not. They’re going to keep him alive, not kill him.”
“Please. Help me get him into your car so I can hide him.” I grabbed the guy’s sweat-damp beige shirt. “Please, take us home. They’ll kill him. I did this. I’m the reason he’s hurt. Please help me fix this. Please!”
“You’re in shock, lady. That’s all this is. You’re in shock and—”
“I’m fine. This will all be fine. Everything is fine. It can all remain fine. I just need to get him home where no one will see.”
His face contorted with pity. “Look, it’s okay. They’ll help you too. Just a few more minutes and—”
“A few more minutes and they’ll take him from me!” Shoving him away again, I tripped to my feet, bent over, and tried to pluck Aslan from the road. His head lolled as I hauled his shoulders. His legs splayed wider as I tried to pull.
I can carry him home.
I’ll pick him up and get him far away from here.
My fault.
My fault!
I’ll fix it.
I can make it better.
I’ll call Mum and Dad, and they can—
“Jesus Christ.” The driver snaked his arm around my waist, yanking me back. “Don’t move an unconscious man. You don’t know what’s broken. You’re making shit worse!”
I needed help, not a hindrance.
I needed to fix this before it was too late.
Guilt.
So. Much. Fucking. Guilt.
Pushing the driver as hard as I could, I wheeled backward, blinded by headlights, ears roaring with the still-running engine.
I fumbled for my phone.
Dad will know what to do.
They’ve kept him hidden for years.
They can fix this.
Please...please fix what I’ve broken.
My hands burrowed through my dress and found nothing.
Where is it?
Narrowing my eyes, I glanced at the spot where I’d kneeled beside Aslan. I tripped forward, searching for my phone. Aslan’s phone lay smashed into pieces by the Mazda’s tyre, and mine lay in a puddle of congealing blood beside my beaded clutch.
