Page 70 of Midnight Ash

Shit. Me and my big mouth.

Why doesn't he go away? If I was just a plaything, what is he doing here?

"Please go away, Xander. I don't want to see you anymore."

"No."

"What do you need me to say for you to go away?"

"Tell me you don't love me."

"What?"

"Ash, tell me you don't love me, and I will go away."

All the tears I successfully kept away over the last four...five days have all come back. Maybe it's because I'm super hydrated now. Maybe they'll stop if I remove the IV.

"No. Fuck Ash, are you trying to hurt yourself? You need this. Doctor Silas said you need to let it run until it's all gone."

I sit up in bed because I feel too vulnerable lying down.

"How do you know Doctor Silas?" I ask, taking a deep breath, trying to stop the stupid crying.

"Because I was here yesterday when you collapsed from exhaustion and dehydration."

He sounds worried and hasn't released my hand. I try to pull it back, but he tightens his hold.

"I won't take it off."

"Good," he says, running his thumb over my cheek to clear moisture from my face.

"If you go away."

He takes a deep breath and places his hand on my cheek, making me look into his green eyes. They're full of determination, and I can't look away no matter how much I want to. How did I not recognize those eyes even when he had a mask?

"Ash, you like reading, right?"

I nod.

"Doesn't it piss you off when characters fail to have a single conversation that could lead to the happy ever after, but instead they go around making bad decisions based on all those false assumptions?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about or how it has anything to do with why you're here but if it'll make you go away faster, then..." I gesture for him to go on.

He smiles and shakes his head.

"My name is Alexander Blackwood, and I am the CEO of Blackwood Publishing. You know this because you were at the Christmas masquerade ball we organized. You were there because you, Andrew Cinder, are the winner of our first Blackwood Publishing Award."

I stare at him.

"How do you know who I am?"

He reaches his arm to get something from the bedside table, and I see it's my wallet. The reason I couldn't call a cab after Mr. Gooseman dropped me on the side of the road at midnight, five miles from home in a freakin’ blizzard.

I must have dropped it when I checked my phone for the time after I left the party.

Xander opens it, showing me the newspaper cutting and the picture of me and my dad.

"I saw you leave the room and chased after you when I thought you were Andrew." He shakes his head. "How did I not know it was you?" His voice is gentle, and this time when he takes my hand, I let him.