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Dr. Singh sighs. “Well, I know at least two people who wouldn’t have been saved if that had happened.”
I roll my eyes. “Who?”
“Casey,” he says simply. Then, “And that little boy, Elliot, that you’re all working to track down and save. The one who was in the cell with Carter and Casey before they were auctioned, yes?”
I look away, feeling like shit for having forgotten the two of them. I don’t know if we’ll ever actually manage to find Elliot, but we found Casey. We saved Casey. He wasn’t in this operation’s territory, wasn’t on anyone’s radar until he met Carter. Now he’s here in this house, healing with Carter and all the others. Dr. Singh is right—without Carter, that wouldn’t have happened. Without me.
I know my baby brother. He’d trade the chance of a life free of all this misery for Casey’s safety in a heartbeat.
“Well, knowing that doesn’t fix the fact that I can barely sleep because every time I close my eyes I see my baby brother—” I choke to a stop, bile burning my throat until I manage to swallow it down. “How do I make that easier to handle, Doc? Any ideas?”
“You could start by seeing Deacon. I know the mental trauma is taking its toll, but so is the physical. It’s hard to focus on healing when you’re being held together by some tape and bravado.”
I start bouncing my knee, trying to release some of my anxious energy, but stop when it hurts, well… everything. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Drop it,” I say instead. “Just—I don’t want to talk about that. I’ve got it handled. Leave it.”
He tilts his head, looking confused for a few seconds, then stricken with understanding. “Maison, do you want to hurt?”
The words are like knives. Sharp little hurts that don’t bring me any sort of relief. Any sort of absolution.
Fuck him for figuring it out.
Fuck him.
“Are you going to find ways to hurt even after seeing Dr. Deacon?” he asks when I don’t answer.
“I won’t hurt myself like—like that. I wouldn’t do that to Carter. He needs me around, even if it’s just to be his punching bag.”
“That doesn’t sound very fair,” Dr. Singh says with a frown.
Nothing about my life is fucking fair, Doc.
I close my eyes, my chest starting to ache as breathing becomes difficult. I tell myself it’s because of my ribs. “I deserve it.”
“No, Maison. No, you do not.”
“I don’t know how to believe that.” I run a hand over my face, not sure if I want to laugh or cry. Maybe scream? Screaming sounds like a great option. “I don’t know how to—fuck. Fuck, I don’t know, Doc. Okay? I don’t fucking know how to accept help when I shouldn’t need it. I don’t know how to be strong for everyone and let my brother hate me and keep doing my job. I don’t know how to be the victim everyone keeps expecting me to be. I don’t know how not to be the victim either because there were so many of them, there were…”
I try to breathe, but it all feels wrong, the oxygen sticking in my throat, giving me just enough to keep spiraling, giving me just enough to make everything fucking worse.
“There were so many, Doc, and they didn’t care that I couldn’t breathe, they didn’t care that I was bleeding, they didn’t—didn’t care that it hurt so fucking bad my vision blacked out. They didn’t care if I survived, and everything hurt, Doc, everything still hurts, and I don’t know how to make any of it stop, and I don’t know how to pretend it didn’t happen, and I don’t know how to stop hearing everything they told me about Carter. And I don’t know how to close my eyes and stop feeling their hands on me and stop seeing Carter on that stage. And I can’t sleep, and I can’t keep food down, and I’m in fucking pain, and my brother—the man who is my whole fucking world—hates me, and I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. I don’t—” I push to my feet, the room suddenly feeling way too fucking small. I sway a little, pain wrapping around my torso and seizing my lungs.
Dr. Singh slowly stands, his eyes locked onto me. “Breathe, Maison. Just breathe.”
“I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Okay.” He puts his hands up. “Okay. You don’t have to be. You can go.”
I’m out the door before he can change his mind.
Chapter Eight
Nolan
When the house goes quiet for the night and Matt finally falls asleep, I decide to venture out on my own for the first time since running into Travis. I want to see the garden Gabe had mentioned before. I want to see if the idea of freedom will become beautiful again among the flowers. It’s a long shot, but it’s hope—something I desperately need.
