As my eyes peel open, I warily search the room, expecting to see just another nurse or tech checking in on me. My breathing hitches when I see him instead. As clear as if it were fucking daytime, Milton’s here, sat in the chair and piercing me with a frosty gaze.
Wearing a black suit and white shirt undone at the neck, his hair is perfectly in place, the murky shine in his eyes causing my stomach to shudder. And tingle. And clench.
“Hello, Heidi.” His tone is silky smooth and yet deadly at the same time. Holding up his hand, he presents my journal. “This…” He opens it, flicking through the pages that are no longer blank since I decided to write the only thought I had inside my head. Him.
Milton Xavier Hood. Milton Xavier Hood.
Milton Xavier Hood. Milton Xavier Hood.
Slapping it closed, he throws it down on the table, the thud of the cover hitting the wood making me jump. “Is a little obsessive for someone you claim to hate so much, isn’t it?”
He opens the folder next, eyes scanning the new notes on the pages. After reading, he closes that too, the crease between his brows intensifying. “Dr. Rogue claims to have had a breakthrough with you—”
“Milton,” I interject, voice barely a whisper and disgustingly needy.
“Why have you been asking for me?”
The lump in my throat grows thicker, and my eyes burn. “Help me. Please.”
His head tilts to the side. “Help you?”
Grabbing my blanket, I try to push it off me. As I lamely attempt to sit up, I groan, my head so dizzy. My hand slips beneath me, and I topple out of bed and crash to the floor, gasping from the pain as I land awkwardly on my neck.
He remains seated and doesn’t make a move to help me as I grab his leg in another pitiful attempt, knowing how I must look as I pull myself up. Knowing how weak he must think I am. “I knew you were real. I knew. But they…they didn’t believe me. They did this to me.” Staring up at him, seeing the corners of his mouth lift into the sliest smirk I’ve ever seen him wear, the realization is the deadliest pill I’ve had to swallow so far.
“Did I not tell you you’d regret it?” His words puncture holes inside of me, splintering my heart. And it hurts. Oh, it fucking hurts.
He did this to me.
“It was you.” My chest caves, his face so impassive it sets my nerves on fire with rage that seems to come from nowhere. He had them reduce me to this.
Exhaling through his nose, he leans forward. “You have five seconds to tell me why you want me here.”
My eyes close with disgust, hating the moisture in my eyes. All for him. Sitting up and leaning against the bed frame, I lift my hands and clap them together. “Congratulations, Milton. What a performance. I suppose Nick was part of your brilliant plan as well? How long have you been planning this?”
“Nick?” He goes silent, lines creasing his forehead. “Impossible,” I think he says to himself before standing so quick the chair crashes to the floor behind me. “You’re lying.”
“Stop the act—”
“This isn’t a fucking act!” Bending over, he picks me up off of the floor, a cry of surprise leaving my mouth as he slams my body down onto the bed. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not, you are! He told me Blake is coming for me at Elise’s wedding. He wants me back.” He’s silent for several moments, hands gripping my shoulders so tight I groan from the pressure.
He lets go. “Nicolas wasn’t my doing.”
Fisting the tears out of my eyes, I turn away, bottom lip trembling. Then I flinch when Milton’s fingers lightly touch the bruises on my neck. Bruises everyone else ignored, thinking I did it myself. His touch is gone, and footsteps sound on the floor. I turn back, seeing he’s already yanking the door open.
“Where are you going?” He doesn’t stop. “Milton!”
Without looking at me, he leaves, slamming the door behind him. As I listen to his footsteps get further away, it slowly sinks in that he’s not going to help me, and that once again, I have nobody.
Chapter Nineteen
A week has passed, and Milton hasn’t come back, but he stopped the cruel tricks. Because of my good behavior, they stopped giving me sedatives and started letting me out of my room. I’ve slowly gotten strength back into my legs, encouraged to exercise and eat, no longer weighed down by drug-induced lethargy. Though it’s taken its toll.
After all, breaking down, picking yourself up, and trying again is exhausting when doing it for the hundredth time. It squeezes the life out of you as if something unknown is trying its hardest to stop you.
Are you sure you want to? Are you sure you don’t want to die instead?
With my restrictions all lifted, Gabriella calls on Friday to tell them she’s taking me out on Saturday for bridesmaid dress shopping. Elise wants to get married in June, and it’s nearing December. The wedding will be here suddenly…and my time will be up.
Gabriella arrives early Saturday morning. Dressed in a conservative silk suit, her hair curled and makeup perfect, she looks vivacious. “I was on Haven FM this morning talking about my new book. Five-star reviews. You should be proud of me,” she says while driving.
“So proud,” I sarcastically reply, not knowing why I expected her to be concerned about why she has’t been able to see me in a while. But I suppose it doesn’t matter how many times you put a fresh coat of paint over something. If there’s mold there to begin with, it will eventually seep through, and Gabriella is decaying behind the paint.
“Glad to see you’re back to yourself. Sarcasm and all.” I turn to look out of the window because anything is better than looking at
