Page 107 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

Knocking quickly, I wait on the opposite side until I hear, “What?”

It’s snarky and annoying. She’s probably desperate to be alone and craves the comfort of silence and safety.

I push the door open, standing in front of it and listening to it click behind me. Once I’m inside, I let my eyes look at her.

Brown hair with two solid white streaks in the front.

Eyes the color of honey dripping into my morning coffee.

Her face is lacking color, thin from not eating, and I can still see the faint bruises across her cheeks.

When she realizes I’m staring, she tightens her grip on the hospital blanket, shifting uncomfortably in her gown, which is slipping off her malnourished shoulder.

“Why are you here?”

What a question.

I wish I had an answer.

I don’t know why I wanted to come here before I left. I’d never spoken to Coraline Whittaker in my life. I know of her because of school, but our paths never crossed. Not a single time.

We were perfect strangers that happened to clash at a tragic time.

There was no reason for me to visit her. Not now or ever, really.

“I’m not sure,” I say gruffly with a shrug, my hands finding their way back to my pockets.

She rolls her eyes. “Couldn’t think of a lie?”

I lift an eyebrow. “You want me to lie?”

“Would be far more entertaining than whatever this”—she waves her hand—“is.”

My lip tugs at the corner. I appreciate how she’s pretending, sitting in this room and acting like nothing happened to her. Like she hadn’t escaped a living hell. It’s a tough shield she has up, but I know beneath it is a girl waiting to crumble.

I’ll let her pretend though.

“I don’t need your sympathy. You can take it and get the fuck out.” She turns her head away from me. “Goodbye.”

“I didn’t come for that either,” I reassure her. “I wanted to give you this.”

I pull a piece of paper from my pocket and walk it to her. I don’t miss the way she flinches at my footsteps, so I lay it near her legs where she can reach it.

Her eyes are cautious, watching me, waiting for me to do something before she grabs it quickly and peers down at the writing.

“Your phone number? Seriously?”

I clear my throat, forcing my voice to work. “If you need anything in the next few days or sometime in the future, you can call me.”

“Are you hitting on me in a fucking hospital?” She scoffs, anger and pain all over her face. “I’m not your dead girlfriend, dude. Stop looking at me like I’m someone you can save.”

I want the comment about Rosemary to hurt more than it does, but time has made it easier. I hate that it’s easier.

“I’ve got no interest in saving anyone.” I turn my back, placing my hand on the door, ready to leave.

“You don’t even know me,” she calls. “We are happenstance. I could exploit this for all you know.”

“Go for it. Throw it away for all I care. Won’t make a difference to me.” I shrug, looking over my shoulder and catching her eyes. “But I know what it’s like to fight demons you can’t see.”