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“I do. I’m… not well. I don’t expect you to understand but I just don’t want to live. Everything sucks, I have no ambitions, nothing matters…Idon’t matter.” I say the latter in a hushed tone before firming my resolve and standing straighter. “But I want to.”
“I see.” Dr. Prestin writes something down in his notebook, snapping it shut after he’s done, and assesses me once more with his dreadful gaze. “Well, from your record and my interviews with Mr. Coldfox and yourself, I do believe it’d be in your best interest to receive full-time care in our facilities. I will have the paperwork finalized and at the front desk upon your arrival tomorrow.”
My eyes widen. I’m being admitted tomorrow? I thought I’d be able to spend a little more time with James out of the hospital, but I guess it makes sense. He’d just be babysitting me the entire time and he haspromotionsto worry about.
Dr. Prestin takes James out into the lobby as they talk more about the amenities at the rehab and the time frame for my treatment.How are we going to pay for all of this? The doctor may be creepy, but he’s dressed in the most expensive suit I’ve ever laid my eyes on. My insurance policy lapsed after I quit my job… I don’t even want to think about money right now.
I let out a long sigh and drop my shoulders in defeat. What was the point of all of this? I am a complete waste of space. All I ever bring to others is pain. If I wasn’t so fucked up, I could’ve actually pushed myself to kick this relentless urge to stop existing.
But whatever will be, will be.
I can’t change the past. I can only hope I’ll get better.
I open my window and slump into one of the chairs at the coffee table, staring out at the sky as the sun sets across the city. The leaves on the trees are bright orange and red. Fall is heavy in the evening air, and the scent of fresh rain rides the wind.
Closing my eyes, I try to enjoy the moment for what it is. This is my first new day, my second chance, and new beginning.
Iwillget better. I don’t have a choice.
“Everything dies in the fall. It’s kind of nice, isn’t it?”
I gasp and sit up straight at the sound of Nurse Hull’s deep voice. He’s standing by the window, leaning on the ledge, staring back at me. His blue eyes are calm and assessing. I’m on my feet in seconds, wondering how long he’s been standing there looking at me.
“Who are you really?” I ask with a stern look.
He’s wearing a black hoodie with a dark gray skull embroidered on the left side and gray sweatpants, not nurse-like at all.
“Are you even a nurse?” I furrow my brows as worry ebbs into me. Why does he keep coming here? He changed my IV out yesterday… Fear dilutes my blood at that thought.
His blue eyes flick back to the window, uninterested. “Does it matter?”
I want to sayOf course it fucking matters, but I stop and think about his question. Did he hear me speaking with Dr. Prestin?
“I guess not,” I mutter, sinking back down into the chair James has been living in for the last few days. “I’d still like to know your name at least.”
He sets his elbow on the windowsill and presses his palm to his chin as he gazes down at me. Orange rays of sunlight dapple across his cheeks and his eyes glow with cold fire.
“It’s Liam.”
Liam… He’s easy to get lost in. His black hoodie fits perfectly, showing off his lean arm muscles. My eyes drift down to his junk. I mean, come on, he’s wearing gray sweatpants—I can’t be blamed for noticing his package.
Fall is gray sweatpants season, after all.
“So, why’d you do it?” His deep voice snaps me back into focus and I find that damning grin pulling at his lips. He sounds curious and taunting, not at all sympathetic.
I set my feet on the seat cushion and pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and resting my face on my forearms.
Of course. Everyone wants to know why.
How many times do I have to keep saying the same shit to different people?
“Does it matter?” I throw it back at him and he smirks diabolically at me.
He reaches down to my wrist and I hold my breath as he pushes my sleeve up, revealing the stained bandages. He runs his thumb across the tender flesh and heat rises in my chest. Our eyes meet. The tension in the air is thick between us. His crooked smile sends shivers up my spine and a chill through my veins. He looks longingly at the dried blood and hunger flickers through him at my painful wince.
“I think next time you should wait.” He says it coldly as he continues to gently brush against my wound and I’m too stunned to do anything except stare, bewildered, at him. I’m mesmerized by everything about Liam—specifically, the darkness within him. Because who the fuck touches someone like this? And why does the sick and depraved part of me draw closer to it?
“Wait for what?” My breath hitches—my next one rides on what he’ll say next.
