Page 31

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ashland

I’m dead, I’m cold, and I can’t see.

No one said Hell was going to be fucking cold. Heat I can take, but cold? This really is the worst place ever. Next thing I know there will be fucking snow. I’ll be forced to draw dicks in it forever. That’s probably my specific brand of torture.

There’s beeping. It sounds like a submarine scanner underwater. It keeps pinging and pinging, and I want it to fucking stop. I want to cover my ears, but my limbs are too heavy. All I can do is stare into the back of my eyelids. Weird that they have them here.

Where the fuck is Satan? I saw that dipshit for a second, but he wasn’t taking fucking requests, and it’s honestly rude. I thought he was a joking when he tossed me here. You would think Sinclair has worshiped him enough to give me some brownie points or something. I try to at least speak, but my mouth is dry and everything fucking hurts. Typical.

I lay there forever, in the abyss of cold while my limbs go numb. This is pretty boring. There could at least be some creativity. I dig into my…mind? My soul? I don’t know the words yet. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to speak, or the cold has frozen my mouth shut. It’s not like I’ve seen anyone to ask questions either. I’m not a people person, but maybe I’m a demon person.

It doesn’t feel like I’m in Hell though, and after my initial experience I’m starting to believe I’m not. It feels like I’m in limbo, and I never really thought about that place. I never even considered it an option. Isn’t it supposed to be a waiting room with tons of people sitting around grieving their own death?

I try to remember the living part. It’s somewhere, but getting murkier by the second.

“Who named me?” I look up at my daddy. He has dark circles under his eyes and scruff on his face and neck. He’s sitting in the middle of the couch with a beer in his hand. I can smell the yeast on his breath.

“Your momma's drug dealer,” he snorts.

I look at my feet that are swinging on the chair.

“Cheer up, Ashton. Here, have a beer.” He pops the tab and hands it to me.

“It’s Ashland,” I whisper.

“Right. Ashland.”

I feel like I’m on top of the world. He’s never nice to me.

Ashland. I am Ashland.

“I don’t like it when you cry.” A little boy with chubby cheeks takes my face into his grubby palms. “I’m gonna sing you a song. That’ll make it all better.”

“I’d like that,” I sniffle, pulling him into my lap.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little starrrrrrrr.” His voice is like magic. “How I wonder what you are.” He pauses for a second in thought. “What are the next words?” he whispers loudly.

“Up above the world so high,” I sing.

“Like a diamond in the sky!” He belts it out of his beautiful little soul.

Sinclair. Devious little Sinclair.

“Let me see it.”

I look up at the teenage boy standing over me. “No, it’s ugly.”

He looks like he’s annoyed, but there’s a softness to him. He sits next to me in the bushes, holding his hand out. I unwillingly put the picture I drew into it. He puts it up to his face and squints, studying it. There are red and blue lights flashing and weird people in our trailer. The neighbors are standing around whispering.

“It’s not ugly. This is really really good. You even colored in the lines. Pretty sure I was scribblin’ everywhere until I was, like, nine.”

“Ms. Brown said it was scary.”

He tilts his head. “Nope. Your teacher is stupid. She just doesn’t understand art.”

“You’re not supposed to call people stupid.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes people are stupid.”

“Am I stupid?”

“You’re fuckin' six. Of course you’re stupid.”

“Momma said I’m stupid.” I look down at the dry dirt and dig my finger in. “That I’m stupid and ugly. She says I make her rot. Did I kill her, Bubba?”

He sighs. “You’re little, so you don’t understand, but you don’t have that kind of power, Yinny. Momma liked her drugs, and that’s it. It ain’t got nothin' to do with you.” He wraps his arm around me. “You’re really smart for a six year old. Like, a fucking genius. I’m startin’ to think your brother might have brain damage.”

That makes me giggle.

“You’re not ugly, Yinny. She said that ‘cause she was jealous. Someday, all the boys at school are gonna be knockin’ on our front door, and I’m gonna have to shoot ‘em.”

I watch as they roll out a bed with my momma on it. They have a white sheet over her. I’ve never seen a sheet that white.

“Memphis,” I say, my bottom lip quivering.

He’s watching her, too. “Sup?”

“Will she rot?”

“We all rot, Yinny. The good. The bad. Everyone. Some people just expire faster. Don’t worry about all that. You have a whole future.”

“Do you think I could grow up to be a drawer someday?”

“I think you’ll grow up to do whatever the fuck you want.”

Memphis. Stupid fucking Memphis.

I’m peeking around the trash cans at a group of kids gathered in front of the ferris wheel at the town carnival. They’re bullies.

“Remember what I told you?” a boy whispers to me.

“Girls go to college to get more knowledge, and boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider.”

“Precisely. You’re the smart one, and I’m the stupider one.” He gives me a devious grin. “So, when people are mean to you, you tell me. I’ll take care of it for ya, okay?”

“Okay.”

Yang stands and walks over to the group of boys and girls. I follow behind him. He taps the meanest boy on the shoulder.

“Hey,” he barks. The mean boy turns around as Yang pulls back his fist and slams it right into his nose. Within seconds he’s onto the next.

The girls scream as I pull Stacy’s pretty blonde hair, yanking her to the ground and jumping on top of her while the others run. “You’ll never be anything but a worthless white trash whore,” I sneer. “Just like your momma.”

It's not long before Yang has their little ring leader on the ground with his face inches from the mud. "Give me your wristband. You too Stacy."

"Fuck you, you white trash losers," the boys snaps. Yang shoves his face into the mud then flips him over, pulling off the laminated plastic bracelet before he recovers.

My fist tightens in Stacy's hair, threatening to do the same. We don't even have to tell her before the wristband slides right off and is placed in Yang's outstretched hand. Then he grabs my hand and we run.

“I told you I would take care of it,” he huffs out of breath when we make it to the the other side and get in line for the Scrambler. He hands me a wristband and we both slip them on.

“Boys can’t hit girls,” I point out.

“I’ll hit anyone who hurts your feelings, alright? I don’t give a shit. You gotta get outta here for the both of us.”

“Did you see the look on her face? She didn't even fight after you shoved her stupid boyfriend in the mud,” I laugh.

“Fuck yeah I did. Looked scared shitless. She's gonna go tell her momma." He rolls his eyes. "If she bullies you again after that, tell me. Next time I’ll break her stupid nose, too, and then she’ll really look like her momma.”

We both fall to the ground in fits of laughter.

Yang. My best friend, Yang.

More memories filter in so quickly I can’t grasp them.

“So you believe in the Universe and shit?”

“Not really,” Koda shrugs. “What do you believe in?”

I think about it only for a moment. “Good and evil. You?”

“Mm,” he rumbles in his chest. “Right and Wrong.”

I straddle him and his hands trail my hips lightly. I can feel him underneath me.

“Which one is your favorite?” I whisper in his ear.

He focuses back on me, that sharp jaw fighting the urge to take more. “You.”

“But I’m Wrong,” I reason.

“So am I,” he murmurs on my lips.

Koda. Koda fucking Armory.

“Do you like art?” The annoying copper-haired girl asks.

“Listen,” I say. She sits there with bright hazel eyes, and waits. She waits and waits and waits.

“I’m listening,” she finally prompts me.

“That was called Silence. It was fucking peaceful.”

“You’re in a mood today.”

“I don’t know how you’re always so fuckin’ cheery,” I snap. “It’s like I traded one torture for another.”

She pokes around at the peaches on her tray. “You’re a cunt.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she says lightly. “You’re a cunt. You’re the cuntiest cunt I’ve ever met.”

“Cuntiest isn’t a word.” I roll my eyes.

She frowns. “You get the point.”

“That’s really the best you’ve got?” I smirk.

“And you’re a bitch.” The words are foreign on her little Christian tongue. She pronounces each letter.

I breathe on my nails, and pretend to buff them on my chest. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Her knuckles are white on her fork. “You’re the cuntiest damn bastard bitch slut fuck shit ass whore cunt of the…of the…god…of the goddamn century!”

The guard glances at us, unsure if he’s about to have to break up a cat fight.

I smile. “I’m proud of you.”

That seems to completely confuse her. “What?”

“I’m proud of you.” I shrug. “You got all of them out there in one sentence. Do you feel better?”

She slumps in her chair. “I…I think so."

“Wanna be a cunt with me?”

“Is this some weird way that you offer friendship?”

“I don’t really like the term friends, but cunts sounds good. Sounds better. Cuntiest of the cunts.”

Her eyes flick back and forth, reading my face. When she smiles, it’s bright. It might be the happiest smile I’ve ever seen. She radiates with it.

“Yeah? I think I’d like to be a cunt,” she giggles. It’s sweet. I hate it, but I also want to hear it again like the cheep of a little baby bird.

I grab my gatorade and hold it up to cheers her. “To the Cunts then.”

“To the Cunts of the Century?” She offers her Sprite can.

Somehow this annoying bitch has wormed her way into my stupid rotten heart. I’ve never really had a friend before. Not one that was a girl. Penny is a good person, and I’ve never been around one of those before.

“To the Cunts of the Century,” I confirm, trying to hide a smile, and I clink my plastic against her tin.

Penny. My Cunt. My best friend. She loved me even when I did my best to be the worst. She saw past it and chose positivity instead. Penny was the first person to ever love me that didn’t have to.

My eyes open. There’s light, and it’s so bright that it takes a few moments for them to adjust. When I finally focus, I see my latest horror.

I’m staring into my own eyes.

I blink trying to get my bearings.

“Welcome to the land of the living,” a British accent says. The eyes aren’t mine, but my baby brother’s. He has a stupid grin on his face.

“Sinclair?” I rasp.

“Yeah, Yinny, it’s me.” He pushes my hair out of my face and puts his grubby palms on my cheeks. Always fucking grubby, even now.

A blur of copper to my right catches my attention. I burst back into tears, but Penny is already sobbing. She hovers her hands over me trying to find a way not to hurt me.

“Your hug will make it better,” I promise. She slides into the bed on the other side and curls up against me. And her hug does. It makes it better. It makes everything better.

“I thought you were leaving me,” she sobs.

“What? You’re delusional. Cunts of the Century stick together. I’m not ready to be on cunt probation.”

Sinclair joins in on the hug, just a mass of limbs. It lasts a long time, but it’s never long enough. Penny grabs a glass of water and hovers over me, putting the straw to my lips. I suck some of it down and cough. It feels like I just drank from the fountain of youth. The memories all come back to me in a whir, and I start to cry, even though it fucking hurts.

Sinclair wipes the tears away. “I don’t like when you’re sad. Want me to sing you a song?” That sweet little boy is still in there somewhere.

“Oh, no. Not again.” Penny rolls her eyes.

“Shouldn’t you go get a doctor or something?” Sinclair sticks his tongue out.

She sighs, squeezing my arm. “I’ll be back.”

“So, sis, didja miss me?” Sinclair grins.

“Yeah.” I nod, still crying.

“I called in a few favors. No need to thank me.”

“Yeah, well, your boss is a dick.”

“So you two got on then?”

“Something like that. Where is everyone else?”

“Back at home anxiously awaiting news. Jeremy thought it would be for the best not to cause a scene.” Sinclair slides into the bed next to me, and I lean my head on his shoulder. “I’ve missed you, Yinny,” his voice cracks. He looks like the scared little boy I used to know so well.

“I always miss you, Knoxy.”

When Sinclair was born, I named him Knox. He changed his name to Sinclair when he was thirteen. Everyone is aware it’s not his real name, but everyone knows better than to bring it up. Knoxy is reserved just for me, like Yinny is just for him. He sniffles and uses his shirt to wipe his eyes. It doesn’t look like he’s slept in weeks.

“I’ve never been so scared.” He clutches me in his arms, and tears start to stream down his face. “I wanted to call someone, but the only person I could think of was you.”

“I answered?” I grin. “So why am I lying in a hospital feeling like I’m dying and not dead like I accepted a millenia ago?”

“Some wanker named Cole came into your house and shot you. He was…He was Damien’s little brother.”

It comes back to me in a rush. “He didn’t want to shoot me. He wanted to kill Penny,” I clarify.

“Well, points on blowing his brains out,” Sinclair sniffles.

“We shouldn’t be so crass about it,” I giggle, and it fucking hurts.

“I think we’ve seen plenty. Crass is being kind.”

Penny returns quietly, resuming her spot in the bed next to me. The three of us are squeezed together. It’s painful, but I don’t want them to go.

I sigh, wincing. “So Jeremy knows?”

Sinclair laughs. “Yeah. Did his whole sweeping the nation routine. Grilled the handballer so hard I thought he would break. Multiple times. But he didn’t.”

“He grilled Alexi?”

“And Koda. It looked brutal,” Penny comments.

“So Koda knows?”

She nods. Fucking great. Just announce I’m a liar just like he said I am. He gets to have the last laugh.

“Ugh. What kind of name is Ko-duh, anyways?” Sinclair mutters.

“Doesn’t matter. We aren’t together.”

Sinclair gives me a sideways glance. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. The bloke was here before we were.”

I’m not sure what to make of that, but I don’t have time to analyze it.

“I spoke to Memphis,” Sinclair says solemnly.

“Why would you do that?”

He picks at the fibers on the blanket that someone put on top of me. “I wanted him to hurt.”

“Did he?”

“Surprisingly, yes. Wasn’t as cathartic as I had hoped for.”

“What did he say?”

“Cried, actually. I may have told him you died without adding the fact that you were brought back for a while.”

“You’re terrible.”

“He felt worse when I told him Damien used his name to get you a letter.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I do, actually. I think he’s full of regret, and I hope he is. Doesn’t fix anything though. Asked me to ask you to let him call you when you woke up.”

I think about the last time I saw our older brother. I can tell Sinclair wants me to say no, and I’m not ready to face Memphis yet. I’m surprised he was able to. “Messaged received.”

“Damien is still locked up.” Penny’s faces scrunches up in distaste. “Turns out he’s been in solitary for the last two years.”

I sigh with relief. “Does he know what happened?”

“They told him you're dead. Get him to let it go. Hopefully, he’ll be pushed over the edge and try to join you,” she laughs angrily.

The doctor comes in and reads my stupid chart. “The two of you need to let her rest.”

I try to keep it light. “What’s the damage?”

Doc doesn’t find it funny. “Shot three times, stitches in your occipital, and a broken wrist. You had a lot of blood loss, but we managed to keep you stable. You’re not out of the woods yet, Ms. Bradshaw. You need to eat and rest .”

“I guess I should tell Koda and Alexi she’s awake.” Penny purses her lips.

“They’re here?” I ask.

Sinclair sighs, moving to sit in the chair. “Refused to leave.”

“Want me to have Alexi say hi?” she asks.

I nod. The thought of his goofy grin makes me smile, even if it’ll be one of the last times I get to see it. As soon as Jeremy can do it, I’m sure we’ll be moved.

“I should go call the blokes. Let everyone know that Sweetheart lives. I’ll tell the handballers she’s awake.” Sinclair hugs me and plants a wet kiss on my cheek. “Love you, Yinny.”

“Love you, too. Tell them I love them all, too, and to stop worrying.”

When Sinclair is gone, Penny sits in the chair next to me. Even though she’s exhausted, she glows.

“What day is it? Actually, how long have I been here?”

She picks at her fingernails. “Three weeks.”

“The internship!”

“It’s fine.” She waves me away. “They’re going to extend it into the summer. Dire situation and all.”

“Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes narrow and she scowls. “Sorry? Are you fucking kidding me? Cole came into our house and almost killed you. A few hours later and I could have done something about it.”

“He was going to kill you,” I whisper the admission. “He was going to make us wait, and kill you when you came through the door.”

“So you threw yourself in front of it? I can’t navigate without you, you stupid bitch.” Tears spring in her eyes. “Don’t ever do that again. Twice now. I owe you my life twice.”

“You’ve saved me more times than I can count. I didn’t think we were supposed to keep score.”

“Right,” she sniffles. “You’re right. It’s been hard. I’m tired, and handling Sinclair is like a giant fucking toddler getting into everything with zero emotional regulation.”

“I solemnly swear that I will not jump in front of a gun without your permission ever again.” I give her a big smile.

I think if I wasn’t sewn together in a hospital bed she would throw something at me. “That’s a lie, but I’ll accept it.”

I look around the room, mulling over my current situation. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Half dead and still being sarcastic,” she giggles. “It is though. Definitely embarrassing. You had a catheter.”

“Nevermind. I want to go back to being dead,” I whine.

“I’ve watched you pee in a urinal, hoe,” she points out.

It feels like I’m holding so much back and seeing Penny sitting here has made me realize how much I’ve missed her. I need her to keep my head straight, and that’s an unfair amount of pressure to put on a person. It’s as if she reads my mind.

“Ash, you’re my person. Don’t you dare get that self-loathing look on your face.”

“I love you, Penny.” The tears return. “More than you’ll ever know. You’re my fucking lifeline, and I don’t want it to be like that for you. I mean, you’re stuck here with me instead of doing the internship.”

“I can’t with your melodrama.” She rolls her eyes, tears shining on her cheeks. “Opportunities come knocking, and if they don’t, you always grab them by the back of their neck and threaten them until they do. That’s what best friends do. I’ve never ever been stuck with you. I’ve only ever hoped you’ll let me stay in your orbit.”

“I don’t want to drag you down,” I cry harder.

Penny gets up, gripping me in a time stopping hug. “You lift me the fuck up and somehow keep yourself up, too. You make me so fucking proud to call you my best friend, Ashland. Don’t ever say you’re dragging me down ever again. We’re different in the best ways. People are jealous because we’re fucking amazing. Cole was going to kill me because he was so jealous. Cunts of the fucking Century you stupid dumb cock sucking slut. Got it?”

I wipe my nose. “Got it.”

“Now let me fix your fucking hair while you tell me all of your woes. The Stylist is in the building.”

I giggle. “You’re not going to fix whatever roots have grown out with a hairbrush.”

“Sh,” she silences me. “I swear it’s not bad at all. Can barely see them. Now talk.”

I huff. “So Sinclair called Memphis?”

“More like angrily whispered at me what to say while he listened.”

“He made you do it?” I snicker. Little shit.

“Yeah. It was weird. I’ve never spoken to him before. His southern twang is worse than yours. Sinclair made me call him a sniveling soap dropping pussy.”

“Sinclair doesn’t remember, but Memphis wasn’t always this way.”

She grabs a brush and starts working through my hair. “You miss him?”

“I don’t know.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you wanting to hear what he has to say.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“If you ever wanted to see him I’ll go with you. We can make a day of it. Don’t have to tell Sinclair if you don’t want to.” Leave it to Penny to make it sound like it’s not a big deal.

A comfortable silence falls over the room, only the beeping of my pulse driving me insane.

“Koda and I broke up,” I tell her.

She starts to braid my hair. “I don’t think he feels that way.”

“I think he does.”

“Then why is he still here? Like, I’m actually jealous. If he was sitting in this room I would be writing a manifesto dedicated to him.”

Koda is really here? “He probably feels bad. The way it ended was really explosive and fucked up. He read the letter from Damien. After he left, Cole showed up.”

“Can we not call him Cole? Can we call him Blown-Out-Brains Chance?”

“I think that might turn heads,” I giggle.

“Dead Chance?” she offers.

“Yes, Dead Chance it is.”

“Anyways, you both have a temper. You might be a hot head, but Koda is like a bottle of Diet Coke with Mentos. I think that letter just threw the candy in, and you blew up at the same time. I’m not taking his side, but that idiot feels some kind of way about you.”

He left me at the house that day. It’s not his fault. I’m not stupid enough to think that, but there’s still tension. We broke up. I told him it was over in the most final way possible, and if he’s been camped out here, then it’s not for the right reasons. The door flies open, interrupting us.

“Ashy!” Alexi shouts, rushing to my side. He grins. “You look like shit.”

“You look like you ate shit,” I quip.

“Basically. This fucking hospital food is like eating old peanuts on a plane.” He falls into the chair next to the bed. “So, Ashy, I was thinking we could all have movie night Friday.”

The great thing about Alexi is that there’s never an obstacle. It’s a great quality, and a terrible one. It means that people usually overlook how you really feel inside. I can see that he’s been in some sort of turmoil, but this is his way of trying to remedy it. There’s no way he thinks we’ll still be here Friday, but his optimism is appreciated.

“I doubt they’ll let us get away with that.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“Have you even been home?”

He ignores me. “Your little brother, too. He seems kinda crazy.”

“Sinclair will be there, especially if he’s not invited,” Penny snickers.

Alexi’s smile widens. “So Friday? Us, Clair, morphine, and Barbie?”

I try to hide a smile. “Sinclair will kill you for that nickname, but morphine and Barbie sounds like a fucking party.”

“Perfect. I’m picking Rapunzel, because I don’t want to listen to you two argue. I’ll sneak in some popcorn.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“I dunno, tell them I’m pregnant or something.”

That makes me and Penny laugh, but I wheeze because it fucking hurts. Alexi looks like a kicked puppy.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Like I’m already tired of people asking me that question.”

“Glad you’re feeling like yourself,” he chuckles. “I just wanted to say hello before I head home. Make sure your brother wasn’t pulling another fucking prank. You should get some rest because Friday, it’s on. Love ya, Ashy.” He stands up and backs out of the room doing finger guns.

“Sinclair has been pulling pranks?” I snort.

She wraps a hair tie at the end of the braid. “I would call them attacks, but you know Alexi. ”

“Has Alexi really been here that much?”

“They haven’t left. They’ve been sleeping in the nurses lounge,” Penny informs me. “That’s how long they’ve been here. The staff actually felt so bad for them that they offered for them to stay in there.”

“Who is they?”

“Did you fucking lose your memory? Jesus, Ashland. Koda and Alexi.”

That makes me laugh, and then I cough because like every fucking thing it hurts. “I just keep picturing them on the couch, and neither of them fit.”

“Believe me. They don’t,” Penny giggles. “You need to admit your shit with Koda is more than some fling. He passed Jeremy’s test. Mine, too. That man loves you, and you can’t tell me any differently. You should give him a chance.”

“I’m not fond of Chances.”

She levels her gaze. “He isn’t a Chance, and you know it.”

“We won’t be here anyways. Why does it matter?”

Penny sits on the edge of the bed folding her hands in her lap. A timid grin spreads across her face. “Would you be happy if Jeremy let us stay?”

“Are we playing some kind of game?”

“No.”

“Then why would he do that?”

“Apparently, it’s kinda up to us. With Dead Chance being dead, and the Rat King in prison, there really isn’t anyone left. The last piece has been put into the puzzle. You wouldn't have to go back to being Ashland Vaughn or anything. We would still be Ashland and Penny Bradshaw.”

I think about it. I really don’t want to leave our lives here. It’s messy and fun. We only have a year left anyways. Penny is wrong though, and Jeremy knows it. One person still hasn’t been found. It’s not that I think he would come after me to kill me. Yang saved my life, but I’m still angry and he very well might be, too.

“Do you want to stay?”

She tries to read me, then finally concedes. “I’m conflicted. I thought a lot over the last few weeks. You almost died here, but it’s also like we can be reborn for the last time. I understand if you don’t, and we can go.”

“I don’t want to,” I admit.

She looks up with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” I confirm. “I like it here. I’ve got the shop. We’ve got friends. If we disappear again then we start all over and lose everything we’ve worked for. I’m worried though.”

Her eyebrows squeeze together. “About Koda?”

“No,” I huff. I don’t know how to say this. “About the...”

She picks at the fabric of the sheets. “You know they disbanded.”

“But if Damien has any idea…” I try again.

“I never met Dead Chance back then,” she points out. “He was already gone.”

“I saw him almost every day for two years and hadn’t realized that I had met him."

Her eyes flick to the ground, her neck bending in submission, and I see a flash of the old Penny. “We’ll go.”

“You don’t want to though.”

“What I don’t want, is for the past to rule our future anymore. I’m living. In a world I thought I couldn’t make it in. I’m okay, Ashland. I am okay.”

Penny wants to stay, and while I’m worried, I also can’t make those decisions for her. She has a fucking point. We will never have identified every single face of every person in all of the organizations that seemed so twisted together. We can't hide forever. That's not who we are.

“Okay,” I agree. “We should stay. We’re not done raising hell here yet.”

She smiles softly. “Love you, hoe.”

“Love you too, bitch.”

“So about Koda…”

I groan. “Why do we keep coming back to him?”

“Because you two are freakishly perfect for each other, and now you’re free.”

“We just don’t have life in common.”

“I don’t believe that."

She wants to say something. There's a long pause in the atmosphere. "What?"

Penny sits on the end of the bed. "Sinclair misses you. More than the death thing. Everyone does. We should see them more."

“Can I get out of the hospital first before we start talking about heartfelt reunions?”

“Right. Feelings. The Vaughn family poison. Well, what do you want me to do about Koda?”

“How about you tell him to fuck himself?”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes again and adjusts a pillow behind me. “The doctor said you should eat. How about I get you something from the cafeteria? What about pudding?” Penny says it like it’s a five star meal.

“I take it no is not an answer you’ll accept?”

She blows me a kiss. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Fucking hilarious.”

Feelings are a poison. They make me uncomfortable, and the second they have a hold on you it’s too late. Every time she said Koda’s name I felt butterflies in my shredded stomach. There’s a sliver of hope that he is here, suffering, because he cares about me. I’ve been pretending I closed my heart, and, despite everything, I ended up falling for Koda fucking Armory instead.