by Mason, V. F.
I’m lying on the comfortable hospital bed and an IV drip is attached to my foot. My brows furrow as I slowly rise to study it, but then shrug. Maybe they couldn’t find an appropriate vein in my arm.
Either way, I don’t care. I’ve spent so much time in hospitals during my life I’ve gotten used to all the needles and the effects after them. But then I notice something else.
Or rather someone else.
Eve is half lying on the bed, snoring loudly, and I chuckle before lightly shaking her. She swiftly wakes, sitting up straight, and rasping, “I’m awake, I’m awake!” But then her eyes widen when I give her a tentative smile, even though I feel like dying inside.
But I can’t reveal the truth in front of her.
In front of anyone really, because then they’ll surround me with pity. I know them well. But I intend to break the Karpman triangle and not be a victim anymore, or rescuer, or persecutor.
And for that, I need to deal with my pain on my own. “Hey, sleepy head,” I murmur.
Tears erupt from her as she wraps her hands around me, saying quickly, “I’m so glad you woke up!” She leans back and palms my face. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been through hell?”
She laughs through the tears, quickly wiping them away. “Sounds about right.” She presses the red button above my head on the bed, and a nurse comes in, holding a pad in her hand. “What happened?”
“She’s awake. Could you please call the doctor?”
“Of course!” She rushes out, and Eve tensely touches my cheek.
“Emerald—”
“It’s okay,” I reply, willing all my strength to help me live and breathe through this. “There’s no need to… there’s just no need.”
“I don’t think you—” she starts, but the doctor comes in, interrupting whatever she has to say.
“Happy to see you awake, Emerald.” He walks toward me, and Eve steps away, giving him room to lean over me. He flashes a light in my eyes while he checks them, and then his fingers hold the pen and shift it from side to side, while he says, “All reactions are good, stats are good.” He leans back and quickly writes something on the iPad in his hands, and then he grins. “Looks like you’re ready to conquer the world,” he jokes, but all I can do it nod. “We patched the bruise on your head and bandaged your hand. You had all the fingers broken, but I don’t think you will have trouble with them in the future. In any case, you’ll need to see our ortho before you go.”
“Sure,” I say and lift my bandaged hand, which seems huge in this thing but at least there’s no aching throb or pain present in my body.
None except the one shredding my soul into tiny little pieces.
I croak past my dry lips, and Eve quickly gives me a drink and I sip through the straw, welcoming the coolness it brings me. “Is Micaden here?” I ask, and both of them freeze, sharing a look.
They must have tried finding his body, right? Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but what if his dead body is in the morgue and I can see him one last time to say goodbye?
Somehow, with him, we never get the chance to say those words, and I desperately need to once, to end our story right.
Not brutally as it always happens.
“Yes, but I don’t think—”
“Please.” He said himself there’s nothing keeping me in the hospital, so why is it such a problem for me to see his body? “I can handle it.”
He seems lost for a moment, but then he reluctantly nods, wiping his hand over his face, and then gives me his hand. The nurse removes the IV attached to my foot and I give her a grateful forced smile. I slowly stand up, swaying to the side, but the doctor catches me in time. “We need to call for a chair.”
“No,” I say, grabbing his hand and shaking my head. “I need to do it like this.” Finally, I regain my steadiness, and Eve throws a robe around me to put on. Slipping into fluffy slippers, I follow the doctor who adjusts his pace to mine.
The hospital smells greet me, but I don’t care about them, instead focusing all my attention on the sounds of our shoes bouncing off the walls as we go along the long hallway. As I walk, all the memories of Micaden and me flash in front of me.
Our summer together and all the emotions I’d experienced for the first time.
Our reunion when a stranger confused me, yet I couldn’t help but want him.
When I fell in love with him again, and how much I hated him when he told me the truth.
And the complete hopelessness we both experienced when the whole truth came to light.
But the strongest of them all is the last time our gazes clashed as his fingers slipped from mine when he let me go, so Kaden could take me up as he kept falling.
Just like back when he let me go when the police officers took me home.
The tears I hate so much form in my eyes, and one of them slides down while I push back the sob threatening to escape. I have to be strong for this, because I’ll finally be able to give us both the goodbye we deserve.
I’m so much in my head I don’t notice where I’m going and bump into the doctor’s back.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
He holds the door open and motions for me to go inside. Confused, my brows furrow.
Isn’t the morgue a scary place with buzzing sounds, located in the basement, or whatever the downstairs of the hospital is called? Why is he taking me to this brightroom? “I want to see Micaden,” I say firmly. What if this is some new room for me, or worse? Has he brought me to a shrink to make sure I’m not mental?
He clears his throat and scratches his head, confused as hell it seems. “And this is his room.”
“What?” I rasp and enter, gasping while covering my mouth with my hand, because the sight in front of me shocks me then makes my heart soar again.
Micaden is lying on the bed with wires attached to him; machines beep loudly around him, indicating a steady pulse, but at the same time, he wears a breathing mask.
I come closer, still shocked, but then I see he’s unconscious. I notice the chart next to him with his progress, but none of it makes sense to me due to all the medical terms. “He’s alive.” I turn around to face the doctor and Eve, and they both nod, although the doctor is the one who explains to me what happened.
“A man rescued him. Apparently, they called for help beforehand, because the ambulance was waiting for them. His vitals are fine, but he spent a lot of time underwater without air, and we are not sure how it might affect his brain.”
“I’m sorry, but what?”
“All we can do is wait for him to wake up.” His lips thin and then realization hits me like a ton of bricks.
Coma, he’s talking about a coma. “There’s no guarantee, is there?” My question stays unanswered, and I sit on the chair next to him, lightly touching his forehead, whispering, “Please wake up, Micaden.”
But despite all this, something blossoms in my chest, something I thought died a long time ago.
Hope.
Sociopath
Gazing at the couple through the door window, a small, rare grin appears on my face, because Micaden found his peace.
If he lives, that is.
Satisfied, I go down in the elevator, through endless hallways to the outside, and finally breathe in the fresh smell of the ocean air, still present even in the town. I should bring my woman here sometime; she’d appreciate it.
I feel a presence behind me even before Lachlan speaks. His tone alone demands answers, as if I ever follow his orders. “You came.”
“It seems you can’t handle stuff without me present,” I say, and glance to my right where he stands, a deep scowl on his face, but he nods, acknowledging my presence. “Now we wait.”
“Waiting requires patience.”
“It’s a virtue,” Shon says, joining us, and I chuckle, because Lachlan doesn’t find it amusing, and he lets him know that in the deadly glare sent Shon’s way.
“Get the fuck out of here w
ith this talk.”
“We just need Jaxon and Arson for our little reunion.” The words are barely out of my mouth when the two men in question come to us; they couldn’t have left without checking on Micaden anyway. “And here you guys are.”
“You always had the best timing among all of us,” Jaxon greets me, and I nod, because that’s true. People have to learn to take credit when it’s due.
“We are done here then,” Arson says, lightening up a cigarette, while Lachlan adds, “Until the next time.”
With that, each one of us walks off, because we all have our own paths, pains, pleasures, and life. We’re not best friends who hang around each other, drink beer, or have family reunions. We don’t do mutual barbecues, our women are not friends, and we try to keep ourselves as separated as possible from each other’s personal life. We don’t call each other to ask how someone is doing or any other shit normal people do.
What we have is not friendship.
What we have is deep loyalty, because if one of them ever needs my help again… I’ll come from wherever I am to help them.
And without a doubt, I know all of them will do the same for me.
We are not friends.
We are people bound by the pain of our past.
Chapter Thirty-One
New York, New York
Lachlan
I walk down the hallway with various rooms, as different sounds erupt from each of them.
Loud begging.
Sobbing.
Screams.
And classical music of course along with rock, which means Isabella and Amalia are having the time of their lives right now.
Room six opens and a tiny blonde emerges, her eyes wide while her white dress is smeared with blood and… are those ashes? Her lip is trembling and she hugs herself, murmuring something inaudible.
“Are you lost?” I ask, because scanning her appearance, she doesn’t exactly look like the victim these guys go for.
They never torture women.
She can’t be a student, because those bounce around, excited, while asking hundreds of questions.
She runs toward me, grabbing my hand and begging with her melodic voice, “Please help me. Please. He’s going to—” I zone out her words, instead focusing on her features, which seem painfully familiar, but I can’t place them. I haven’t seen this woman in my life, yet it feels like I should know her.
I don’t have much time to dwell on it as the door opens once again and Arson walks out, confident as always with a leather bag thrown over his shoulder. “Belosnejnaya moya, what did I say about touching strangers?” He casually comes to us and throws his hand around her shoulder, and she shivers in revulsion, I assume.
What. The. Fuck?
“What are you doing, Arson?”
He shrugs, adjusting his bag better, but still keeping a strong hold on the woman. “I was showing Chloe around my space.”
“I hate it here. You’re a maniac,” she hisses at him, trying to hit him, but he quickly catches her fist and wraps his hand around it.
He gives me a grin, although his eyes stay completely dead, and he drags her out, throwing “Room nine” on the way as they pass me. And with that final line, he disappears behind the door that leads upstairs.
In all the years I’ve known the guy, he’s never been with a woman, let alone one who he called to in his native language, Russian.
I groan inwardly, because she doesn’t want to be with him, and there’s a wildness about her that will bring him more problems that he can ever expect.
However, the minute I reach room nine, all thoughts about other people fly away, and instead, the cold monster sinks in, and a sinister smile appears on my face while my body buzzes with excitement of what will come next.
Because Elijah is pinned to the wall, whimpering through the silver tape, with various weapons lying on the table, just begging to be used. His body has several stitches, Band-Aids, and bandages that I’ll gladly rip off.
He has been here for months, and I make it my mission to inflict pain on him from time to time, or use him as a body for my students to practice on. Then once the torture is done, the doctor fixes him, and he sits in the cage waiting for the next time.
Five of his fingers are cut off, because no one treated them when I broke them, so they festered.
His nightmare will last for a long time, because he hurt those close to me.
No one harms those under my protection and lives.
A lesson he’ll learn through the years.
Epilogue
Three Years Later
Island, United States
Emerald
The colorful dream catcher above me shifts loudly, rattling the seashells hanging from its wings when the ocean breeze sweeps over the patio. I wrap the scarf tighter around my shoulders, shivering slightly from the weather, but still welcoming the freshness it brings.
I dip the brush in the black and continue to paint the images from my life that no longer scare me but have the tendency to come back when I least expect them.
However, when I put them on canvas, they no longer have the power to bring chaos; instead, they remind me of what I lived through and survived.
Slowly, the metal boat where Elijah kept me appears on the white-as-snow canvas, and I exhale in relief when the tight knot in my chest loosens. I drop the brush, wiping my hands with the wet cloth, although I know I still have some paint under my nails.
I get up, leaning back and stretching my spine, as my phone dings, echoing through the entire house. Bax, my white American spaniel, barks enthusiastically, licking around my bare feet, and I scratch his ear absently, but my eyes widen at the message flashing on the display.
“Oh my God,” I murmur, and then throw the phone on the table, quickly running outside, barely having time to put on my sneakers before I resume rushing. I pass several people on the way who just shake their head at me, used to my craziness.
Or so they claim anyway.
I reach the beach and put my hand on my forehead, blocking the sun to make sure I’m seeing the right ship on the horizon, and a bubble of laughter escapes me when I see the navy blue boat. I’m about to move closer, when a hand from behind pulls me back. “Hey.” I frown at my best friend, but she shrugs, propping a baby on her hip.
“No can do,” she says, and although I still glare at her, I lean down to give Hugh a kiss on the head.
“Your mommy is a meanie.”
“Don’t listen to her, baby. She’s just grumpy and hungry.” Only then do I notice the bag on her shoulder, and my eyes must light in excitement, because she arches her brow. “Something you want, Emerald?”
“Come on. Give me the cake.”
“It’s not a cake.”
My arms cross, and I tap my foot. “You stopped me from going over there.” I point behind my back with my thumb and then at the bag. “And still don’t have the decency to get a cake? Woman, you are dead to me.”
“These dramatics won’t last for long,” she mutters, handing me Hugh, and I give him a goofy smile, breathing in his baby scent, loving the feel of his small body in my arms.
After years of trying, God blessed Tom and Eve with their first child eight months ago, and everyone couldn’t be happier for them. The whole town celebrated with them in their coffee shop and gifted so much stuff that Eve donated half of it to foster homes. Tom still works as the sheriff while her business continues to grow ever since she opened a small shop near the fishermen’s shore where they can hang around and buy her delicious pastries.
Kurt and Marcy got married, to everyone’s shock, and they decided they were too young to live here their whole life, so they packed their stuff and took all the savings they had and rode off into the sunset, wanting to travel all over the world.
Ah, but young love is cute.
Nona still continues to get treatment in the local house for the elderly, and we visit her three times a week, but she rarely recognizes me and usually thin
ks I’m the nice girl who saved her from the beach. Oddly enough, this detail she remembers quite clearly.
From time to time, Kaden visits too, so I always have the sense of family surrounding me even if in fact most of my family died.
All in all, the life on the island has thrived.
The paper bag dangling in front of my face snaps my attention back to the present, and I lick my lips when I see these are her waffles. “Yummy!” I extend my hand, motioning for her to give it to me, but instead, she pulls a little out and takes a bite out of it, right in front of my face! “That’s just cruel.”
“What was cruel was your face when you learned it’s not a cake.” She can’t be stern for long though, because she throws me the bag, and tells me, “Put him here.” I get Hugh into the stroller and he grumps a little, but then he munches on some colorful, plastic ring, which apparently helps with his teething.
I snatch the waffle from her and moan as the first taste hits my tongue, but I don’t have time to enjoy it for long, because she grins, patting my back. “Now it’s safe for you to go. Otherwise, the waves might have crushed you.”
Blowing her a kiss, I wave at her with my fingers and sprint down the dock, my feet slapping on the wood echoing all around me while I concentrate on the most handsome man my eyes have ever laid eyes on. He jumps from the boat, wrapping the rope around the moorings, securing the boat safely to the dock.
He straightens when he hears me approach, grins, and opens his arms wide, bracing for my attack, for which he doesn’t have to wait long.
With a loud squeal, I bounce into his outstretched arms, wrapping my arms and legs around him like an octopus while Tom passes us by, chuckling. “Eager, are we?” he asks and salutes me, while most likely going to his family.
I lean back and smile at Micaden, who gently rubs my cheek, and I lift my face, seeking his caress. “You’re back,” I whisper, and he nods, although the serious expression doesn’t leave his face.
“I am.”