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Me too. But there I am, broken nose, eyes swollen, and head pounding. To my left, my clothes, cut off me, covered in what appears to be a mixture of blood, vomit, urine. . . who knows.
I shift, I’m uncomfortable, sweating and nauseated. My head spins, my gut retches. I feel sick.
My hands are confined to the bed. Waking up in handcuffs is usually cool, until the chick is gone and you realize you’re in a hospital bed with a catheter. Welcome to hell.
Shade’s beside me, in a chair, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to be here. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I look out the window.
“Are you okay?”
“Am I what?” My eyes don’t move from the window.
“Okay?”
I lift my handcuffed hands, the metal hitting the edge of the hospital bed. “What the fuck do you think?”
Shade nods. “Right.” And then he swallows, shaking his head. “I called her.”
“Why?”
“Thought she should know.”
I wondered how much groveling I’d need to do if I ever wanted to get back in her life. No. The price is too high. We are done. I know I won’t be forgiven, and shouldn’t be. I’m not going to bother asking. My amends should be death. They’d be better off. They wouldn’t have to hurt anymore, and I wouldn’t be able to cause pain. They can forget me this way, forget I ever existed at all. Amberly can move on, find a good guy.
The thought of her with someone else dips my stomach. It’s the darkest darkness that bleeds purple.
Shade clears his throat. I don’t look.
“You didn’t have to come,” I tell him, fidgeting with my IV, and then I look at him. I feel his pain right then. “And you look like shit, Shade.”
The corner of his mouth curves. Scratching his forehead, he then yanks on his beanie hat and pulls it down over his hair. “I know, but you know, a crazy thing happened last night. My brother tried to kill himself, and I’m kinda pissed off about it given the shit I’ve gone through with addicts. What was it?”
“What was what?”
He sighs. “What were you taking?”
“I don’t remember.” It’s the truth. I don’t.
A word rattles in my head. Addicts? Am I an addict? I could quit, couldn’t I? No. Probably not.
“What do you remember?”
I don’t think about it. Don’t want to. I want to be blind and dumb and not remember. I don’t want to have a heart. There’s a certain point of blackness I’m clinging to where my memory fails me. “Nothing.”
“Tell me something.” Shade pauses, and waits until my sore eyes find his. “Why’d you do it? Why do you want to forget?”
I shrug. It’s painful. I’m shaking. My hands, my chest, my heart pounds. I’m completely fucking lost. But there’s no answergoodenough. At least one I’m going to give anyone.
But I don’t get away with that answer because this is Shade, and he’s a relentless son of a bitch. He waits. “I’m not leaving here until you tell me.”
I look at him. Then the wall. He doesn’t leave.
“Oh, Christ. Fine. Fuck. I wanted to forget. I want out of this pain,” I admit. “Didn’t work. Now they have me on a twenty-four-hour suicide watch.”