Page 102 of Tear Me Apart

I fucking hate this.

I hate being locked in this ward.

I hate this stupid roommate. I can tell how nervous I make her. Even now, she is staring as if she expects me to leap across the bed and rip out her throat.

I hate the people, the smells, the indignity of being here. The lidocaine is wearing off; the bandage itches, my arm feels like it’s on fire.

I shouldn’t be here.

I slam my fists into the bed, again, and again, the rage building inside me, boiling over into a scream, and the frightened roommate gets the nurses. They give me a stinging shot, and as I drift away again, I have one last thought before everything shatters around me.

It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault he died.

58

VAIL HEALTH HOSPITAL

CURRENT DAY

Mindy lowers the bed as far as it will go, scoots down, and puts her head on Kat’s flank. The dog’s coat is so silky. She is a great pillow. Kat is sound asleep, snoring a little, and Mindy loves the feeling of the soft fur beneath her ear rising and falling as the dog breathes.

She is supposed to be taking a nap herself, though she is wide awake; she can’t bear to fall asleep anymore. It is the curse of the cancer—she is scared that every time she closes her eyes, it might be the last. After yesterday’s awful stomach bug, she definitely slept for a while, so she is awake enough.

Her eyes slitted, she looks at the new presence in her life. Zack Armstrong is sitting with his hands on his knees, staring at her. He is handsome. He is nice. She feels a weird connection because she can see the places where she looks like him. Her own eyes are staring at her, which is downright creepy, but comforting, too.

She is having a hard time wrapping her head around all of this. First, she’s adopted, then she’s the child of a murdered woman, now her biological dad is here and might be a match to save her life.

And her mother has lied to her. Flat. Out. Lied.

V.

Mindy is not stupid. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to tie the two strange situations together. She finds letters from a teenager, the mysterious V. Then she finds out her biological mother is named Vivian. The odds that these two people are not one and the same, and are tied to her mother, are ludicrous.

It all adds up to something terrible. And her mother lied to her, she knows it.

She can’t think about it anymore. It’s exhausting. Mindy wants everything to be over, to be healed, out of the damn itchy cast, to ski, to feel the wind on her face and have control over her body again.

Dying in increments is a seriously lame way to go.

It is hard on the whole family, too. As angry as she is at her mom—strange how every time she thinks or says the word a new face floats into position—she also hates seeing her stressed and upset, her dad—there it is again, this is going to be so hard!—angry and quiet. He is the family jokester, the fun one, and Mindy doesn’t think she’s seen him smile without regret for weeks. Mom and Dad, Vivian and Zack. She assigns the names to the faces mentally, reminds herself who raised her. No more dual meanings with the parental names. There’s Dad, and there’s Biodad. Zack.

Zack is best. She likes the name. That’s what she’ll call him. That’s what feels right.

She hears a commotion in the hallway, opens her eyes fully. Zack is looking toward the door. Dr. Oliver rushes into Mindy’s room with a huge grin on his face.

“Folks, we are a go! Mr. Armstrong, you’re a damn fine match to our girl, here. Let’s get you both prepped and ready to start your individual treatments. I’m sorry to say, missy, that dog’s not going to be allowed to visit. We’re going to move you to a sterile room for the next couple of days, because the treatment you’re getting is going to kill off everything, including what’s left of your immune system.”

“Is it going to hurt her?” Zack asks, and Mindy gives him a grin.

“It all hurts. But I’m tough. I can handle it. Can you? Aunt J said you don’t like needles.”

Zack shrugs. “Not my favorite thing, no, but if you’re going to be all sorts of brave, I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”

She beams at him.

“You better get over the fear, Mr. Armstrong, cause it’s needle city for the next couple days,” Oliver says. “Where’s your mom, Mindy?”

“She took off. Dad, too. Aunt J is talking to the cops that are coming to interview us. It’s just me and Zack. He pulled the Mindy-sitting straw.”