I still have one day.
I need to find him. I need to tell him. He needs to know how I feel.
Because I know how he feels.
Because I know he was going to say it before everything went to hell in such a dramatic fashion. I can’t lose faith now when I’ve been such a believer this past week.
My feet start moving and I’m out the door before I can really think about what I’m doing. I left my eighteenth birthday party too. That night I wanted to jump and fall dead to the ground, just so I could shut up the voices.
Today as well, my voices are loud, and they are telling me to jump. They are telling me to take a leap.
And I’m doing it. I’m taking a leap of faith, hoping that he won’t let me fall and die. Hoping that he’ll catch me.
I find his retreating figure in the hallway, and I call out his name, stopping him in his tracks. He turns around and there he is.
Simon, the love of my life. A life that’s always plagued me. A life I’ve always wanted to end. A life I’ll always want to end, but I’ll fight. I’ll do what I have to do to stay alive because it’s mine.
And he’s mine too.
He frowns. “Willow.”
His voice clenches my heart and makes my legs tremble with all the love, as I approach him.
“Can I please talk to you? In your office?”
“Actually, I –”
“Please,” I say, cutting him off. I’m not going to let him hide from me. Not right now.
There’s a tic in his jaw, a pulse that indicates that he’s going to refuse me. But, surprisingly and to my relief, he nods.
I follow him to his office and when he holds the door open, I step over the threshold.
Simon is still at the door, though. “Can I help you with something? I’m a little –”
I spin around to face him. “Who’s Claire?”
Okay, so that wasn’t my plan.
I don’t exactly know what my plan was, honestly. But it wasn’t this. It wasn’t to blurt this out and have him go all rigid on me.
He’s gone completely cold and almost menacing, and his voice isn’t any better than it was yesterday when he asked me to get out of his office. “What?”
I can either take it back or I can roll with it. Fisting my hands on my sides, I decide to go for it. What’s the worst thing that can happen?
Well, no. I’m not going there.
Happy thoughts.
“Who is she?” I swallow “Y-you got the phone call yesterday and since then things have been weird. I –”
“Is that all?”
There’s no movement on his body. I don’t even think he moved his lips when he said that. It’s so unnerving to be standing here in front of him, jittery and shaky when he’s so still and immobile.
“I’m sorry?”
A clench on his jaw, at last. Some sign that he hasn’t frozen over.
“Is that all?” he repeats slowly, something flashing across his features. “Because if it is, I have a lot of work to do. So, you need to leave.”
I take in a deep breath. There’s a humming in my stomach. A swarm of butterflies and bees and wasps and dragonflies. It’s a full-on plague and I want to press my hand there to calm it down. But that will mean showing him my weakness and I can’t do that. Not now.
“Who is she?” I ask again. “Why did you turn all, I don’t know, icy and unapproachable? Who is she, Simon? I, honestly –”
“I’m asking you to leave. Right now.”
“Tell me who she is, Simon.”
“Who she is, is none of your business.” He hasn’t moved an inch from the door. Still, I feel him and his almost-lashing voice from somewhere close. “Do you understand me?”
“I have a right to know,” I say, my heartbeats getting louder and louder.
Yes, I do.
I do. I do. I do.
Please don’t make me a liar. Please tell me who she is.
“Excuse me?”
God, has he ever looked more ferocious than this? His brows are bunched up and his jaw is clamped so tight. And his eyes? His eyes are shards of darkness, glinting and so intense.
Every second that passes makes me even more agitated and scared. I mean, I wasn’t expecting him to be receptive of my words, but I didn’t think he’d be so clammed up and tightly fisted, either.
“I have a right, Simon,” I tell him resolutely, like I’m standing in a storm and refusing to back down from the thunder. “To know. And to ask.”
I straighten my spine and clench my stomach. Maybe it will hurt less until we get to the point where he actually gives in and tells me.
Simon cocks his head to the side, as if genuinely curious. “What makes you think that? That you have a right to know anything.”
“B-because you bought the books.”
Because you love me. And I love you.
I still can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe he never said anything about it. At the library when I told him about thanking Josie and Beth, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even mention it.
But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Simon never says anything. And if there was ever an epitome of actions speak louder than words, then this is it.
“What?”
“You bought those Harry Potter books.”
“So?”
I close my eyes for a second before saying, “For me. You bought them for me.”
“So?”
God, why does he have to be so wordless, though? Why can’t he just admit it, make it easy? His stare is so lifeless and dead. As if I might be speaking in tongues. As if he doesn’t understand me.
Why is he making me fight like this?
I’m so tired of fighting. For him. For everything.
I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and blink my tear-stained eyes. “So, it means that there’s something between us. You…” Another wipe of my nose, another blink of my eyes. “You have feelings for me and I have feelings for you too. I’ve always had them.”
As soon as I say these words, I know I’ve made a terrible mistake. It’s like watching history repeat itself.
Wasn’t I here only a couple of weeks ago, saying the same thing to him? And didn’t he reject me?
This déjà vu is making me want to throw up and I can’t resist it this time. I put a hand to my stomach. It’s fucking dizzy.
Simon squints his eyes. “I think we’ve had this conversation before, haven’t we?”
Yes. We have.
But then, I didn’t know the magnitude of feelings I’d develop for him in just two weeks. I didn’t know that he was harboring the same fantasies as me. I didn’t know the little things about him.
His little smirks, his sighs and groans. His heat and his skin. How he’s so patient and wonderful and caring. How he can’t fathom the thought of me hurting and how he beats himself up for the littlest things.
“You can’t lie to me, Simon.” I take a step toward him. “I know you. I might not know all the things about you. All the facts. But I know you. I’ve felt you.” Another step closer, as I continue, “You’re a good man, Simon. You have such a good heart and I don’t know why you don’t think so. I don’t understand it, but I swear to God, you do. I’ve never met someone like you. In fact, I don’t even think there is anyone like you.”
Somehow, my voice is still steady even as my body is shivering. I reach him, craning my neck up so I can take him in.
“You’re not some criminal from the wrong side of town. You’re not the man on death row. You’re the king, Simon. You’re my king. I-I was born for you. My illness, The Roof Incident. They aren’t random. I was meant to be here, and you were, too. Whatever I went through in my life, it was because I was meant to meet you. And you were meant to meet me, too.”
I go to touch his face, maybe soften him up a little bit, but he grabs my hand before I can make contact. His hold is fierce, painfully fierce, an
d I clench my lips against the pain.
“Are you done?”
“Si –”
He squeezes my wrist, harder than he ever has before, and a tiny hiss escapes me. He doesn’t let go, however. He watches me squirm. He increases the pressure and doesn’t ease up.
On the night he took my virginity, he told me that I didn’t wanna see him lose it. I think this is what he meant. This violence. “Simon, please, you’re hurting me.”
That’s when he releases me. “Now, get the fuck out.”
I rub my wrist and stand my ground. “You did that on purpose. You deliberately tried to hurt me. I know that. You’re not like this. I’ve seen you all –”
He stops my words with a short, harsh burst of laughter. “God, I knew this was a bad idea,” he mutters, almost to himself before focusing on me with lethal eyes. “I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you. I knew you were young. You were reckless. You were emotional and still, I fucked you. Let me tell you how it is, Willow.”
This time, he moves in closer. He takes not one but two steps, three. Until he’s looking over me. A black, thundering cloud with gray eyes and a stubbled, hard jaw.
“I fucked you,” he says rudely. “Despite my better judgment, I fucked my patient. You’re young. Beautiful. There’s a wildness in you that called to me. And yes, you’re tight as fuck, Willow, and men like that. I’m a man, aren’t I? A weak, pathetic man who couldn’t resist a good fuck. That’s what it was. That’s what you felt. A man in heat. A man going for tight-as-fuck pussy. I don’t know how else to explain it to you. How much plainer I can get but this is it, you understand? It was fucking phenomenal, but it was just that. A fuck.”
I’m watching his mouth move, I’m seeing it happen, but I can’t believe it. I can’t believe the things he’s saying.
“No,” I whisper.
Or maybe I just shake my head.
Or maybe I do both.
Everything is a little confusing right now. It has been this way since I found out about the books.
“Yes. I don’t have feelings for you. I never did, and I never will. You’ll get out of here tomorrow like you were meant to. And we’ll probably never see each other again, like we were meant to.” He straightens up then. “But I’m not the kind of man who shirks away from responsibilities. If you feel inclined to report this, I won’t stop you.”
Report him?
Is that what he’s thinking of right now? That I’ll report him? Is that what’s going through his head when he’s breaking my heart?
“In fact, I’d encourage you to,” he continues with a grave face. “You don’t want someone like me taking advantage of you in the future.”
“I-in the future?”
“Yes. In the future.”
“Is that what you think about, when you think of the future? Me with someone else?”
“Frankly, I haven’t thought much about you and the future at all.”
I have so many thoughts inside my head. They are screaming and screaming, battering down my skull but for some reason only a whisper slips out. “You’re lying.”
He studies my face. His gray, harsh-as-winter eyes follow the path of my tears. Non-stop and never-ending but silent, unlike the chaos in my head.
Moving away, he walks to his desk, picks something up before turning around. I look down to find him offering me a tissue.
He carries it so casually as he replies, “I’m not you.”
Something happens to me then.
Something that I’ve experienced before for sure, but not with this intensity. Not with this ferociousness and savagery.
For reasons unknown, Simon Blackwood has always managed to make me smile, make me happy, make me calm.
So it’s probably fair, poetic even, that he’s the one to awaken the hurricane inside me.
He’s the one to make me fucking lose it.
All the screaming and shouting inside my head breaks free as I launch myself at him. I fucking ram my body against his like I’m a train wreck. A wrecking ball.
I don’t know what I’m doing except I know I’m screaming and my hands are moving like a windmill. My fists are colliding with something hard, something solid and all I know is that I wanna beat it, batter it, roar at it.
I wanna smash that solid, coiled strength and reduce it to what I am right now: broken and bruised.
And why not?
The man I’ve flown my body into doesn’t seem very inclined to stop me. Maybe he knows he deserves it. He deserves every single punch, every single kick, every single scratch on his neck, on his face, every single push and tug of his shirt, his hair.
He deserves all of it. All of my wrath.
I’m hitting him and hitting him and crying and sobbing, all the while calling him a liar.
Because he is. He has to be.
If he isn’t, then I’m fucking insane. I’m a psycho to think that he ever loved me.
I don’t know how long I’ve been going at him, slapping him, punching him, but one second, I’m striking his solid frame, flaying my own knuckles, and the next, I’m flying through the air, it seems, my legs dangling, my screams louder than ever.
There’s a band around my waist, a warm, alive band. Someone’s arm.
Through my rage and the blur of my tears, I see the crowd gathered inside the room. I see Simon all messed up, his shirt untucked, scratches along the line of his jaw and face.
He’s trying to say something to me, probably calm me down. There are other people, too. They are saying things to me as well. But I can’t listen to them. I don’t want to.
I want Simon to tell me why he was lying.
Why is he breaking my heart? Why is he doing this to me? What have I done to deserve this?
A flashback grips me, then and throws me back into the past. The hospital room, my crying mom, the doctors. Everyone looking at me like there was something wrong with me. Everyone looking at me like I was an animal, needed to be put down.
But unlike that day, I’m not afraid of what’s to come.
In fact, I want it. I want the numbness. I want that sting. The needle. Let them put me down. Let them fucking do it.
I’m not a hysterical patient with no rational thought. I’m an insane, heartbroken girl in full possession of my mental faculties.
Let him fucking do it.
I won’t calm down, no matter what.
I flail my legs, my arms, until they don’t let me anymore. I scream harder and harder, until I feel my throat bleed. All through this, I stare tear-eyed at my tormentor, the man I love. The man who broke my heart.
And then, I feel a slight sting.
A sting I was waiting for. It brings sweet relief. And calm and peace.
Death.
Yes. Thank God.
I feel myself going into it, getting absorbed into the black mass. At the same time, I feel myself being caged in a set of arms. These are different from the ones holding me around my stomach.
I’d know those arms anywhere.
Simon.
He’s taken me in his arms as I’m dying. I smile, or try to, because I’m slipping.
I’ve thought a lot about death, and how I’ll die. I’ve made plans for it. But not once did I think that I’ll die in the arms of the man I love. It never occurred to me.
It actually seems like a good way to die. The best way to die.
To draw your last breath in his arms and to look at his face before you forever close your eyes and say your last words.
“You’re breaking my heart…”
“She’s stable,” Beth says, standing at my office door. “Sleeping.”
I look up from where I’m shoving files in my bag at my desk. I’m probably crushing the papers, ruining them beyond repair but I don’t really care.
This isn’t the worst thing I’ve ruined. And there are worse things that I can ruin.
“I want someone to monitor her all night. I
n case she wakes up,” I say, going back to my task.
She shouldn’t, however. She should sleep through the night with Trazadone. I hope she does.
I look around the scene of the crime. My office. Everything is straightened up. Staff here at Heartstone are pretty efficient. It makes me angry. Fucking furious that there isn’t any evidence of it. Any evidence of how I broke her heart.
Scratches on my neck and my jaw, a few on my biceps sting like she’s still digging her nails into my flesh, but they aren’t enough. Her blunt nails didn’t manage to break my skin and make me bleed. Like I made her bleed exactly seven days ago.
Where’s the justice in that? Where’s the justice in me going unpunished?
“You know this is it, right?” Beth says, reminding me that she’s still here. “I can’t help you after this. People are talking about what happened here. I can’t stop it.”
“I’m not asking for help.”
“You’re going to lose this job. I don’t think even Joseph can convince the board –”
I stop what I’m doing and focus on her. “Do I look like I care about this job?”
“Do you care about her?” she asks, standing right across from me, on the other side of the desk, as if we’re in a stand-off.
My hands fist around the flap of the messenger bag. “What do you want, Beth?”
“I want you to admit it. I know you’ve been spending time with her. Do you think I don’t know, Simon?” She arches her eyebrows. “I know about frequent meetings. You haven’t taken such an interest in any other patient but her.”
“Then why haven’t you done anything about it? Why haven’t you stopped me? If it were someone else, you would’ve had this conversation long ago. Right?”
She nods. “Yes, I would have. I would’ve let them go. And if I thought they were taking advantage of one of my patients, I would’ve made sure that everybody knew about it, too.”
“So why didn’t you? Why didn’t you let me go?”
Smiling sadly, she says, “Because you weren’t taking advantage of her.”
“Yeah? How do you know that? You’ve heard the rumors, right?” I cross my arms across my chest. “They say I took advantage of Claire. They say that I slept with her and when she got clingy, I told her to change doctors. There’s a lawsuit against me, remember?”
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