Ruin (The Rhodes Book 1)

by Rina Kent

  Mae isn’t dead. She can’t be.

  My fingers tremble on Mae’s cold skin. My frantic heartbeat is so loud in my ears, I’m afraid I won’t sense that little shred of life in Mae.

  “Leave her be,” Father says. “What a lovely way to die. Look at all that blood, son.”

  I pay them no attention and close my eyes. The fractions of seconds pass like a century before a tiny hope beats.

  A pulse. It’s faint and barely distinguishable, but it’s there.

  With a more steady hand, I run my fingers under her nose. A slow breath. Better than nothing. I take Mae’s wrist in my hand. The deep vertical line cuts into her flesh and straight to her bones.

  Fucking hell.

  I reach to the nearest towel, wrap it around the cut, and squeeze. The white material soaks instantly. I fetch another towel, secure it on the first, and keep the pressure.

  I free one of my hands and dial Kane. “Have a car in front of my quarters now!”

  The phone falls from my fingers as I reach for Mae. I get her out of the appalling blood pool. My heart almost stops beating at her frozen skin and hardly existent heartbeat. Keeping a hand on her wrist, I wrap her in a dry bathrobe, pick up my medical kit, and run downstairs.

  “Come back from wherever you are, Mae,” I whisper, focusing on her lifeless face. “I’m the one who’s supposed to leave, not you.”

  After what seems like hours, I settle in the back seat with Mae, Kane is driving.

  He glances at me then at Mae. “Is she—”

  “Alive. Our private clinic. Quick.”

  Once the car moves, I throw a bandage over the towels. The bleeding should’ve stopped already. Yet, Mae’s still losing blood. At this rate, exsanguination is right around the corner. Rummaging through my kit, I position Mae’s injured arm up, then wrap a tight tourniquet around it. With my other hand, I apply pressure to the tip of the forearm in an automatic procedure to stop wrist bleeding. The blood stops flowing after a while.

  I release a deep breath. It should be good. The radial artery hasn’t been entirely severed. Yet, hypothermia is still lingering under Mae’s skin like a vengeful ghost, waiting to lure her to the other side. Her lips turn a frightening blue and an uncontrollable shivering takes over her body.

  Too much blood loss. Soon there will be shock. Her scarcely beating heart will stop altogether. Then her brain cells will die too...

  “FUCK!” I interrupt my thoughts, my free hand reaching for Mae’s. I massage her frozen skin. There’s nothing I can do except lean closer to her face. My trembling breaths caress her inert skin. “Please don’t leave, Mae. This is a worse fate than anything I’ve experienced.” Wetness stings my eyes, I don’t realise they’re tears until saltiness seeps into my mouth.

  What is this feeling? This... this complete vacancy? It’s like having one’s organs plucked one by each bloody one. First the liver, then the pancreas, the lungs, the brain and finally the heart.

  I can’t lose Mae. It’s a synonym for losing what remains of myself. What have I done? Why did I bring her to my hell? Why did I have to be so fucking selfish to destroy both of us? Who cares if it’s in my nature?

  When the car stops, I dash inside the ER. Soon after, an emergency team surrounds me.

  “A cart!” I shout, and the nurses roll a bed towards me.

  That’s when I let Mae’s body go, settling it on the cart. Yet, I don’t stand there, I run alongside the nurses and the doctors, barking with a clear voice that doesn’t match my internal chaos. “Female. Early twenties. Blood type A, RH negative. No medical history. No allergy to any medication. Bradycardia, pulse less than 50 and temperature is below 36. She needs perfusion immediately. I applied a tourniquet seven minutes ago to stop the bleeding.”

  A doctor glances at me with narrowed eyes. “Are you a—”

  “A doctor, do your job!” I shout, shoving him with the rest of the team.

  I collapse to the ground, my feet unable to take the weight in my chest. Shaky breaths come in and out of my lungs, asphyxiating it with detergent air. It fucking hurts. More than the asylum. More than my hallucinations. The thought of never seeing her again hurts the most.

  Goddammit!

  My fist connects with the wall. My knuckles burn, but not enough to extinguish the pain.

  Kane stands by my side, his eyes softening at the corners. “We need to go, Sir.”

  I know. It’s already risky that I’m sitting here. Soon someone will come snooping and asking questions. But I can’t possibly leave while Mae is—

  “She’s stable,” Kane says, his expression of pure relief. “I overheard some of the nurses.” He pauses, glancing sideways then at his watch. “I’ve sent someone to take care of the surveillance cameras. Now, we really need to go.”

  My feet are unable to carry me to the car, Kane has to help with that. My mind’s too busy to function straight.

  I steal one last look at Mae’s room and walk out of her life.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Mae

  Beeping. A horrendous smell of bleach. More beeping.

  The material underneath me rubs against my skin in an uncomfortable friction.

  I open my eyes. Blurry white greets me, then the shadows morph into walls. I close my eyelids, a strangled moan escapes my lips. Why am I not dead? I should be dead.

  “Mae, honey.”

  My breath hitches.

  Mum? I think I heard Mum’s voice. It sounds so real.

  I turn my head to the side. At first, it’s another shadow, but when I squint, Mum comes into view. She sits by my side, smiling warmly, tears falling to her cheeks. Dad is behind her, his usually trimmed hair is hazardous as if he just got out of bed.

  How could they be here? Am I hallucinating?

  Mum’s hand holds mine, warm and soft, like I remember it.

  I try to sit up, and Dad rushes to help me. His aftershave hits my nostrils, tame and calming. My head buzzes like a dissipating fog.

  “Mum? Dad?” I whisper, incredulous.

  “Yes, honey, it’s us,” Dad says in a strangled voice.

  Mum’s embrace crushes me, her flowery perfume wafts around me. Warmth envelops me like a cool summer breeze. Her tears wet my neck. “Oh, honey. I knew you would come back. Even when everyone thought we lost you, I knew my girl wasn’t gone.”

  Water saturates my eyes. I release it all and cry into Mum’s embrace. “I missed you.” My voice is strangled. I sob for my fate, for the broken person I’ve become. No matter how hopeless I felt, how could I possibly attempt to take my life? Why didn’t I think of Mum and Dad’s misery? I’m such a horrible daughter. I don’t deserve their smothering love.

  Dad comes to my side and pats my hair. “Welcome back, baby girl.”

  I sniff, sinking my nails into his shirt. What if he leaves me? What if I never see him or Mum again?

  A doctor comes inside. My parents begrudgingly let him examine me. They watch every motion like hawks, as if afraid I’ll be sucked out from the hospital room and into another dimension. I offer them the brightest smile I can manage. Mum’s bloodshot eyes and the dark lines under Dad’s pupils are enough torture. I don’t want to add to their agony.

  “A psychiatrist and a police detective would like to speak with you, Miss Wilson.”

  My head cranes to the doctor and I shake it frantically. I peek at my parents and beg them with my eyes not to make me do this. What will I say?

  When was I brought to the hospital, anyway? I faintly remember Aaron’s voice. Aaron’s scent. His shouts. An unintelligible flow of words... Wait. Where�
��s Aaron? Shouldn’t he come to take me back by now?

  “Can’t you see that our daughter is tired?” Mum scolds the doctor. “Let her rest first.”

  The doctor’s wrinkled eyes soften. “I understand that you must’ve gone through a lot, Miss Wilson, but it’s important to talk to the specialists to ensure your safety. Please let us know when you’re ready.”

  I offer him a slight nod, but when he leaves, I address my parents in a weak voice, “I don’t want to talk to them.” At least not now. I need to regroup. Where the hell is Aaron? Isn’t he supposed to figure this mess out?

  “It’s all right, honey. You won’t talk to them unless you want to.” Dad smiles down on me. “We’re here for you.”

  I sniffle again and extend my arms for Dad to hug me. God, I didn’t know how much I missed this until Dad’s cologne surrounds me. It’s like I’m a little girl all over again.

  Pulling away, my gaze bore into his welcoming ones. “How long have I been away?”

  Dad’s eyebrows crease together. “Roughly three months.”

  Only three months? Was my world turned upside down in such a small period?

  “Okay, now,” Mum says, voice soft. “You need to rest. I’ll go talk to the doctor.”

  “And I’ll be right outside shooing those people off,” Dad’s tone is light.

  I smile. My eyelids fall heavy. I don’t even realise when my parents left the room. My gaze fall on the bandaged wrist. Who saved me? Was it Aaron? Does he regret it? I doubt he wants anything to do with hospitals. Is that why he hasn’t appeared to take me? I just want him here so we can figure out what the hell is going on together. Or talk. Or touch. Is that too much to ask for?

  Ugh. All these questions without answers are giving me a headache. My eyes flutter closed. Maybe if I sleep, I’ll wake up from this chaos.

  “Mae.”

  I bolt up in bed at Kane’s gruff voice, a tinge twists my stomach. Is it fear or excitement? I have no idea.

  Kane is in a white coat, thick glasses cover his pale eyes. He walks to me with a small pad in his hands. He’s almost unrecognisable with the fake facial hair.

  “Kane?” I blurt.

  He nods, his expression in its usual calmness. “Please keep your voice down.”

  “Are you going to take me back? Where’s Aaron?” I can’t help the pinch of urgency in my tone.

  “He’s letting you go.”

  The knot in my stomach erupts into a thousand twists. Huh? Aaron is what...? I think I heard Kane say Aaron’s is letting me go. What even—

  “He sent you this.” Kane hands me a small envelope. A hint of Aaron’s cedar scent causes electricity to course through my veins. Where is he? Since when does Aaron send Kane to talk to me on his behalf?

  “This is outside of my mission, but can I ask a favour?”

  My eyes drift from the envelope to Kane. Either my mind is playing tricks, the anaesthesia is too strong to let me think straight, or this is actually happening. Aaron is letting me go and Kane is asking me a favour. All in the same day.

  Unable to form words, I nod.

  “Can you not report him?” He crosses his arms and taps his bicep— the first nervous gesture I’ve ever witnessed him make. “I know it’s too much to ask, and it’s your right, but even if you report him, it won’t do you any good considering the Rhodes’ power. Tristan will use all the high court judges he has under his control to get Aaron out and prove you wrong. Not only will that damage your family’s reputation and hard-earned social place, but it will also make Tristan furious with Aaron, more so than he already is. It will turn ugly for the both of you.”

  Kane’s words reach me. I hear them loud and clear, but their meaning escapes me. I don’t care about reporting or whatever. But judging from Kane’s words, does that mean Aaron left me?

  “Please think about it.” Kane nods.

  “Where is he?” My words are wobbly.

  Kane’s eyes soften, their blue sympathetic. “I am not allowed to tell.” He turns to leave but stops. Kane faces me and offers the only smile I’ve seen on his face. “Goodbye, Mae.”

  The door clicks behind him. Something breaks inside my chest simultaneously. The sound is louder than glass breaking to million shreds.

  Aaron is letting me go.

  I’m free. Why am I not jumping and celebrating? Why does my chest keep tearing apart with each passing second?

  Am I really free?

  My hand clutches the envelope so tight my fist hurts. What would he want to say after he let me go?

  I open the letter in Aaron’s neat writing. My fingers clutch it as if it’s the only real thing I’ve had in a long time.

  Mae,

  When you read this, I will be out of your life.

  I know I have ruined your youth. The worst part is that I am not the least apologetic about it. I would have taken you all over again if I could repeat it. You challenged me, Mae. You made me want to abandon my safe ways and find the version I want for myself. But that came with the price of losing you.

  You see, it is always shocks that defined my life. It took Aunt Ariel’s suicide for me to realise I was not normal. My parents death made me want to embrace the screwed up part of myself. The asylum implemented the feeling that I am unredeemable. Uncle Alexander’s death erased any hope I had for fixing my existence. The Pit only nourished my desire for blood.

  But then, there was you. Not only did you make me feel all the above, but you also woke my greed for more. Your heart, your body, and your soul. I wanted to take everything from you, Mae. That is why I kept you. But you drowning in your blood was the last straw to stop using you for my benefit. To actually not be selfish for once. There is nothing more disgusting than your blood.

  Live your life, forget about me. You deserve better, Mae. You are free.

  Aaron.

  Sobs tighten my throat. I pull the letter to my chest to not soak it with tears. I fall back on the mattress, my heart seeming to leave my chest with every breathe.

  I’m acutely aware of my parents calling my name, their voices hardly reach over my sobs.

  What’s freedom? Is freedom without Aaron what I really want?

  . . . . .

  The following day, my friends visit me. I cry in Sydney’s embrace, unable to hold back emotions. My friends represent normality. Sanity. And yet, my heart doesn’t seem to belong with them anymore. I keep looking at the door, expecting it to burst open and for Aaron to announce that the masquerade is over. That he will take me back.

  “Will you talk to us, Mae?” Owen asks. “We want to help you.”

  My parents, Owen, and Sydney look at me intently. Their gazes, although different, share concern and sympathy.

  I should hate it. I never wanted them to look at me this way, but they all have been through a lot.

  “Please.” Sydney takes my hand in hers, eyes pleading. “Being silent won’t bring any results.”

  “I love the new hair colour, Syd.” I pat a strand of her jet black hair, my fingers swaying back to the memory of when they interlaced in Aaron’s hair.

  Why does everything reminds me of him? He hurt me. On more levels than one. Why am I the one in pain instead?

  With a deep breath, I tell Dad, “I’ll talk to the police.”

  Mum pushes strands of my hair back. “Are you sure, honey?”

  When I nod, Dad goes outside.

  “You don’t have to tell them everything,” Owen says in a gentle tone. He has grown facial hair, it suits him. “Whenever you’re uncomfortable, you can chase them away.”

 
; Two men, one dressed in a formal brown suit and the other in a doctor’s coat, come inside the room.

  “Hello, Miss Wilson,” says the one in the suit after the two of them sit across from the bed. “I’m Detective Mathews and this is Dr Howard, and we would like to ask you some questions.” I nod, he continues, “We can have this conversation alone if you like.”

  I shake my head frantically. “No. I want my family and friends with me.”

  Detective Mathews nods, retrieving a notepad and a pen from his jacket. Dr Howard holds something similar too. “Let’s start with the night you were taken,” Mathews’ expression is gentle. “Do you remember anything?”

  “I was partying with my friends.” I glance at them, their eyes drop and Sydney sniffs. Patting her hand, I turn to the detective. “I was kidnapped outside the club’s back entrance.”

  The detective scribbles something in his notepad before he asks, “Do you remember by whom?”

  “I slipped and fell unconscious.” My tone is thick. “The next thing I remember is a dark dungeon.”

  “Do you know who put you there?” Mathews’ eyes bore into mine, probably trying to decipher the lies from the truth.

  “Not really. There was a group of people who lived in that place. They always wore black.” Half a lie.

  The detective scribbles some more. “Are there any special marks that could help us identify where you’ve been kept or who took you?”

  I shake my head slowly. Why in hell is it so easy to lie for Aaron and protect him? Why didn’t I turn him in and get it over with? He should be in prison, maybe he’ll grow a heart in there.

  A small sigh leaves my lips. I’m in too deep. I can’t get out even if I want to.

  “Dr Howard will speak with you now,” Mathews says, gaze still pinning me.

  “This is only an assessment before the actual therapy, Miss Wilson.” The doctor readjusts his glasses up his nose, looking at me with a serene, calm expression. “Do you care to share what happened to you while you’ve been kidnapped?”