“Shaw said you did. She said you weren’t sure if you were glad you got a new heart or not.” She glances at the pin, her eyes glossy with tears.
“She’s told so many lies.” I wish I knew why. I bite my lip ring.
“So you’re glad you’re alive.”
“Of course! And I’m glad I’ve met you.”
“Kill yourself and you won’t suffer anymore,” the voice pushes.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Why is this voice arguing with me? I clamp my hands to my ears and groan. “Stop. Stop.”
Darby sniffs. “I’m calling 911.”
My eyes fly open. I reach out to grab her wrist. “Don’t. Please. I can’t go to the hospital. I can’t.”
She stiffens. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
Stephanie points her key fob in my face. No, it’s a little hot pink can attached to her key ring. “MACE. Let her go, creep, or I’ll spray you.”
I scramble to my feet. “I thought you were going to help me.”
“I am. I’ll prove it.” Darby tosses the pin into the bushes. Her eyes are wide. “Forget about Shaw. And the hospital. It’s just you and me. I’ll help you. Tell me what you need.” Her mouth trembles.
“I need someone to believe me.” I splay my fingers across my chest. “I need to sit down. My heart won’t stop pounding.”
“Daniel’s heart.” She stares at the sky, lost in thought, then pierces me with her gaze. “Your heart now.”
My knees wobble. “I’m sorry.”
She licks her lips, thinking. “It’s not your fault.”
“That’s not true. I wanted the transplant. I wanted—want—life. The way I got it, though, to have someone die in my stead seems wrong.” I step toward her. “What if … what if I didn’t deserve Daniel’s heart? What if I’m being punished for taking it?”
Tears stream from Darby’s eyes. “Daniel was braindead. He wasn’t coming back.” She wipes her face. “You didn’t steal anything.”
“Don’t listen to her. She’s lying.” The voice turns angry.
Stephanie eases between us while aiming her pepper spray can at my face. “Why are you talking to this freak?”
Darby pulls Stephanie’s hand down. “He’s not a freak.”
“He’s crazy. Maybe he’s on something. You don’t want to get involved with a druggie.” Stephanie hooks her arm around Darby’s.
Darby breaks free. “It’s okay, Stephanie. He’s not an addict.”
“Are you sure?”
“Just give us a minute.”
“I’m not leaving you alone with him.”
Darby pats Stephanie’s arm. “It’s okay. Really.”
Stephanie frowns, but nods. “Alright. But I’ll be watching you.” She retreats to the driver’s seat, then twists around to stare at us.
Darby talks to me slowly, like a negotiator trying to convince a jumper to come off the ledge. “The roads were so icy that night. I was arguing with Daniel while he drove us home and distracted him. The accident was my fault.”
“Did you yank the wheel or something? Did you make it snow? Did you cause the roads to freeze?”
“No.”
“Then it’s not your fault.”
She snorts. “You’re the one who asked me for help and you’re trying to comfort me?”
“I’m … sorry?”
Darby sighs. A flash of pain creases her brow. “Guess neither of us is guilty, huh?” she whispers.
“What?”
“I’ve been punishing myself as much as you’ve been punishing yourself. Look where it’s gotten us.”
I open my mouth to speak, but she stops me by planting a finger against my lips.
“I wanted to be mad at you for having Daniel’s heart so bad, but I’m not.” She lowers her hand. Her dark hair falls over her face. “God help me, I’m not.”
“She’s tricking you,” the voice taunts.
I shake my head. No. The voice is wrong. Darby’s not a liar. She’s a poor, broken girl who lost her brother. We shouldn’t have met—the suffering artist and the uncertain, life-stealing bookworm—but we have. And that’s the tragedy of it.
A tragedy that Shaw is feeding off of. She’s the one who told Darby about my heart. “Why did Shaw tell you what happened?”
“Don’t be fooled. Darby’s working with Shaw.” The voice is right there, ready to chime in with its vile poison.
“How do you know what I’m thinking?” I say to it through gritted teeth.
Darby lifts her head, setting her striking azure eyes on me. “I can’t read your mind,” she says.
“Not you.”
“The voice is talking again?”
I nod. “Can you help me?”
She steps into my shadow. “Don’t listen to it.”
“It’s strong.”
“It’s not real.”
“Don’t trust her,” it whispers.
I stare down at her, tempted to touch her face, kiss her lips, hold her. “It sounds real.”
“Hearing voices isn’t normal. A doctor will know what to do.”
“I can’t go to Shaw.”
“Someone else then.” She reaches for my arm.
“See, she’s tricking you.”
I duck out of the way.
“Come here, Adam,” she says.
“You’ll bring me to Shaw.”
“Just get in the car.” Her tone is like warm caramel drizzled over vanilla ice cream.
Soothing.
Dangerous.
If I fall into Shaw’s clutches again, there’s no telling what will become of me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Darby
I don’t know what’s happened. Maybe Stephanie is right—Adam’s lost his mind. If I were smart, I’d make like her, get in the car, and take off, never looking back. Forget about Adam. Forget he has my brother’s heart. Forget about my brother.
I look at Stephanie. She’s given up watching us and is staring in the rearview mirror, reapplying some lip gloss. Guess her “caring” only goes so far. I can’t blame her. She doesn’t know Adam and she and I have just started, you know, being nice to one another.
Anywho … more important is Adam. God, I can’t leave him here, alone, freaked out. He’d probably end up dead or something.
I have at least get him to help. He deserves that much. He did it for me. Losing Daniel nearly destroyed me. Adam brought me back to life, just like Daniel’s heart did for him.
Adam and I are linked together, for good or bad. Who was I to question Adam hearing me wail over Daniel’s death and who was I to question finding Adam in the PT room? It was meant to be.
I can’t change what happened to Daniel. On the flip side, I can’t walk away from the person who has his heart.
“Did you hear me? Get in the car.” I gesture to Stephanie’s backseat.
Adam shifts his weight from one for to the other. “You’ll take me to Shaw.”
I rub my temple. He really needs to get over this. Okay, so Shaw bends the rules, but that doesn’t mean she’s jonesing to make him nuts. Even if the medicine she gave him is causing the voice, that doesn’t mean she did it on purpose. She’s a doctor, for god’s sake. She’s supposed to help people. “Alright, I won’t take you to her, but have you told her what’s going on?”
A mess of emotion rushes across his face—confusion, anger, and sadness. “Are you working with her?”
“I told you she’s my therapist.”
“That’s not what I mean. Are you working with her to trick me?” His eyes dart like he’s listening to that damn voice again.
“Of course not. Don’t be stupid.”
He flinches. Sweat slicks his forehead. He’s paler than ever. He’s definitely sick and not just in the head.
I have to stop messing this up. I raise my hands, palms facing him. “I’m sorry. Don’t go. Okay, how about this? What if we go together to exp
lain it to her? I bet she can fix this.”
He clenches his fists. “You said you wouldn’t take me to her!”
I stomp my foot. “Do you want to get rid of this voice or not?”
He toggles his lip ring. He tips his head.
“You know what? That voice is totally stupid. You shouldn’t listen to it.” I step to him, grab his hand, and lay it over my heart. “Look at me. Listen to me. I’m real.”
His wounded hazel eyes search mine. “I want to trust you, I do.”
“I’m here to help you. Come with me.” I tuck a loose bit of hair behind his ear.
“I can’t.” He yanks his hand away and runs for it.
“Adam!” I tear after him.
Stephanie yells, “Darby!” behind me.
I wave an arm at her. “Stay here.”
“Should I call 911?”
“No! Just wait until I get back.”
“Be careful!”
Adam’s legs are way longer than mine. He’s so far ahead, I can’t catch him.
He darts into the street in front of a semi.
“Adam, watch out!” I scream and cover my face with my hands. The truck’s horn blares. Squealing of tires scrape along blacktop. I’m thrown back in time to the night of the accident. I drop to my knees, caught in memories—blinding headlights, Daniel cursing, me yelling, bending metal, and the shattering of glass.
The angry screech of rubber against pavement stops. The idling truck engine takes over.
Sweet Jesus, I’m afraid to look.
Shivering, I peel my hands from my face to confront my worst fear—an Adam pancake.
He’s running down the street, darting between cars. Horns blare. Someone yells at him out the driver’s side window.
“Oh, my god,” I cry.
I launch to my feet and run after him. “Adam!”
He ducks down an alley of a cigar shop.
This is impossible.
I stop running and yank out my cell phone. My finger hovers over Stephanie’s number. Maybe she left after I chased Adam. I wouldn’t wait around, if I were in her place. She certainly wouldn’t want to follow Adam in her car. I scroll to Shaw’s number. Adam doesn’t want me to pull her into this, but she’s the one who started it all in the first place. She needs to fix it. I press call. I feel like a traitor, but I don’t know what else to do and Adam’s hell bent on getting himself run over.
She picks up immediately. “This is Doctor Shaw.”
“It’s Darby. Adam, he’s completely insane.”
“Adam. You’re with him?”
“Sort of.”
She sighs, almost like she’s been expecting something awful to happen. “What’s he doing?”
I give her a quick rundown.
“Where are you?”
I tell her. “But he keeps moving.”
“Try to keep him in your sight, but don’t chase him. He’ll keep running. If he stops and talking to him pushes him away, don’t say anything, just listen. If talking calms him, then keep talking. I’m on my way.”
“What about nine-one—” The line goes dead.
“That’s helpful.” I could call 911 myself, but Shaw didn’t mention it. She would’ve told me to do that if she thought that was the best idea, so I grip my phone in my hand and run after him. Again.
It doesn’t take long for a giant Charlie horse to knot in my side. I huff, breathless.
Adam slows, then trips, collapsing to the ground.
My heart jumps into my throat. I dive after him. “Adam, are you alright?”
He rolls onto his back. “My heart … I can’t breathe … Darby, help.”
His cheeks are red. Sweat covers his skin, slicks his hair. It’s soaked his shirt. He’s panting and shaking.
“Darby, I don’t want to die.” His eyes go dark.
I bring his hand to my lips and kiss it. “You won’t.”
“I’m glad you’re with me.” His eyes slip closed, stealing the unique palette of blues, greens, and golds I love so much.
“Stay with me.” I lean over him, pressing my lips to his mouth. He doesn’t push me away. Instead, he slowly loosens my hand from his to tangle his fingers in my hair. His mouth opens and I taste him with my tongue.
The kiss is sweet, gentle, urgent … and perfect.
When I pull back, his eyes are focused on me. A flicker of something shimmers in them. Maybe it’s hope.
“You’re going to be okay,” I say.
“As long as I’m with you.” He gives a quick smile.
My phone rings. I answer.
“Where are you?” Shaw asks.
I tell her.
“Be there in five.” She ends the call again.
Damn, she doesn’t waste time.
Adam lifts his head. “Who was that?”
“Shaw.”
He exhales. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
“It’s okay. I know I’ve gone mad and I’ve scared you. You don’t deserve this.”
“As long as you don’t run away from me again.”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He laces his fingers with mine. “Darby, I want you to know something.” His brow furrows as his gaze searches mine.
“What?”
He swallows. “I don’t trust Shaw. I never have. But I do trust you.”
I sniff, blinking back tears. “It’s going to be okay.”
He sighs and closes his eyes.
Five minutes later, Shaw pulls up as promised. Her white Mercedes is spotless, like the rest of her.
The driver’s side door pops open. Shaw gets out, her dark hair pulled into a low ponytail. Her light green pea coat flaps around her knee-high boots.
“What happened?” she asks.
Adam squints at her. “The medicine,” he says.
“Shhh.” She places two fingers on the inside of his wrist and watches her watch. After a few seconds, she says, “You’re tachycardic.”
“Why do you want to kill me?” Adam swats her hand away.
Shaw gasps. “I don’t, Adam. I’m trying to help you.” She looks at me like she expects me to help her.
“You were running like a maniac. Of course your heart is fast,” I say.
He groans. “It hurts.”
“Oh god. We don’t have much time.” Shaw draws something out of her pocket. A needle.
I stiffen. “What’s that?”
She levels me with her dark stare. “Help me get him on his side.” She hooks one hand under Adam’s shoulder and another beneath his knee. “Stay still, Adam.”
I have to release Adam’s hand to roll him.
“What’re you doing?” Adam asks. His voice is shaky and high-pitched. He’s totally freaked out.
Shaw tugs his waistband down and jabs the needle into his butt. “It’s a sedative. It’ll calm you down so your heart won’t keep being overstressed. It’ll buy us some time.”
“Time for what?” I ask.
“For me to figure out what to do,” she replies.
“I’ll call 911.”
Adam bucks and flails. “No! No hospital. Mum and Dad’ll go bonkers.”
Shaw throws her body over his. “Hold him down!”
I do as she says. It’s like riding a bucking bronco, he’s fighting so hard. Electric shocks travel down my arms. I won’t be able to do this for long.
“Relax, Adam.” Shaw talks to him with a calm voice. “We won’t call an ambulance, okay? No hospitals, I promise.”
He stops thrashing. “Please, please, please,” he repeats.
“It’s okay, Adam. Let the medicine work. You’ll feel better, I promise.” Shaw coos to him. “Darby, he’s acting under the delusions. It’s true, I have been challenging his suicidal thoughts. As a result, I think he’s internalized it as me trying to kill him, but I’m not. Do you believe me?”
I w
ant to, but his pain is so real. Then again, Shaw’s a professional. She knows what she’s doing. I can trust her. We’re helping Adam. “I believe you.”
“Good.”
“No, Darby. Don’t fall for her lies,” Adam cries.
“Nothing bad is going to happen. I won’t let it,” I tell him. “What do you want me to do?” I ask Dr. Shaw.
Shaw stands. “Help me get him to my car.”
Adam needs both of us to get him up. He limply drops into the Mercedes’ backseat. His eyes are dulled by the sedative and his lids keep slipping shut. At least he’s not panting anymore. He’s stopped sweating.
Shaw buckles Adam in. “Hop in the front seat. We have some things to discuss on the way.”
I’d rather sit in the back with Adam, but Shaw’s right. And she has some explaining to do.
After we’re both buckled in, I ask, “Where are we going?”
She grips the steering wheel for a moment. “My house.”
“Shouldn’t we go to the ER, even if he doesn’t want to?”
“It will stress him more. Sometimes depression gets so severe it leads to psychosis. I’ve been trying to work with him, change his meds, but he’s so resistant.” She turns the engine on, keeping her focus on the road. “But he trusts you, so with your help, in a quiet, neutral place, I think we can break through to him.”
The sun is so bright, we both squint.
“Like an intervention,” I say.
A smile. “Yes.”
I glance back at Adam as she pulls onto the road. “I didn’t know medicine could make you crazy like this.”
“I don’t think it’s the medicine. Adam’s become so obsessive, he needed to blame me—and subsequently the meds—for why he’s not well. Unfortunately, I’ve made mistakes with Adam. I thought we could work through them, but then he got too paranoid on me. I took risks, for sure, and none of them paid off. I feel terrible about it.”
I rub my temple. Like him, she uses words I barely understand. “So the medicine won’t work because he doesn’t want it to?”
She speeds through a yellow light and turns onto the freeway. “The mind is a powerful thing. While the medicine works on receptors in the brain, it’s more complicated than simple biochemistry. The patient has to believe the medicine will work too.”
“Is the medicine hurting him? Because if it is, we have to go to the hospital.”
Under My Skin Page 22