Page 34 of Reckoning

“You bought a three hundred thousand dollar car, drove it halfway across Verona then crashed it into a tree while twice the legal limit.”

I stare back at him, barely registering the words. Why the fuck would I do any of that? Why would I even get behind the wheel of a car, let alone buy one?

“I didn’t…” I begin, then swallow. “There must be some mistake.”

He lets out a sigh that sounds far too close to a snarl. “There’s CCTV footage. You used your own bank cards, and the blood tests have come back proving you were intoxicated.”

“Roman,”

He gets up and starts pacing.

“Roman,” I say louder.

“What?” He snaps back.

“I didn’t do it.”

He shakes his head and that anger flashes across his eyes. “Jesus, Sofia, I can’t protect you if you keep doing shit like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” He waves his hand in exasperation and I think in that moment I truly lose control.

I kick off the covers, force myself to stand. “I didn’t do it.” I scream. “I didn’t fucking do it.”

He slams his fist into the wall, and because this hospital is apparently made of cardboard it goes almost the entire way through. The door crashes open, two uniformed men come rushing in, and pause on the threshold, assessing us both like they can’t tell which one of us is the threat.

“Get out.” Roman orders.

The one on the right begins to object and Roman all but hauls them out, stating no one is allowed in until Hastings gets here.

Hastings - so this all hinges on him again.

I stare back at my brother as that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach gets worse. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I want to.” He replies. “I want to believe you, Sofia.”

“But you don’t.” I gasp. “You think I’m an addict, you think I’m a drunk.”

He moves to touch me and I flinch back, all but slamming into the equipment that I’m still technically hooked up to.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” I cry.

“Sofia, I will never hurt you.”

My anger spikes, my pain, my agony seems to twists, and I know I shouldn’t say the words but I do, I say them anyway, hurling them at him like daggers. “You already have, every time you choose not to trust me, not to listen to me, every time you look at me and believe that I would willingly go down such a path…”

“No one would blame you.” He says cutting across me.

“Excuse me?”

“After what you went through, after everything you endured, no one would think less of you. Trauma fucks with people’s heads.”

I see red. I don’t stop to think of the consequences. I don’t stop to think how he might react. I hurl the plastic cup that’s still somehow inexplicably in my hand.

It smacks into him and he curses.

“You bastard.” I hiss. “You bastard.”