Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
The darkness becomes less bottomless, and a painful self-awareness tickles the edges of my mind. As I come around, I ’ m aware of three things. Firstly, it ’ s fucking cold. I feel like I ’ m lying on ice, which I ’ m ninety-nine percent sure is actually the ground, possibly concrete. Secondly, everything hurts, and I mean honest to god everything , and not in the good, fun way; in the I-feel-like-I ’ m-dying-and-want-to-curl-up-and-never-move-ever-again way. Though I am sure I knew that already. It doesn ’ t feel like a new realization. Thirdly, I ’ m outside, and if the smells are anything to go by, in an alley. Or around some kind of trash area, but it ’ s too dark to see clearly, and all my senses are muddled.
Flashes of images hit me the longer I stay conscious, and I shift, regretting it instantly, but I need to keep moving. I ’ m not sure why that is, why I can ’ t just close my eyes and sleep a little longer. Surely that ’ ll make the pain go away, but a little voice in the back of my head is screaming at me to wake the fuck up. I get half upright without passing out and catch some light to the side and behind me. I take a shallow, burning breath and move again.
Oh. My. Fucking. Ass. Fuck.
Damn, that hurt. And fuck me, that son of a motherfucking bitch dumped me in an alley. Behind some fucking trash cans.
Wait, wha—oh.
I would rage if I had it in me, but as the night ’ s events rapidly permeate my newly conscious state, I realize I should be counting my lucky stars. I ’ m mostly in one piece, if you disregard all the parts of me that are screaming. Yet I have no idea how I came to be here, or how I ended up in one piece at all, come to think of it, considering the last thing I saw and remember is being strangled to death as that fucker came.
How long have I been out for? What else…nope.
I take the win, as small as it may be, and use it to power me on.
Leveraging myself up, my head spinning the whole while, I manage to get to my feet, finding them bare and almost frostbitten. Peachy . The rest of me isn ’ t faring much better. I ’ m in nothing but some kind of baggy T-shirt dress thing, sans underwear, and I can hardly stand, I ’ m so fucking out of it. This is a great start.
Groaning and cursing up a storm, I stop to take stock of my body before trying to come up with a plan to get out of this shit-show of a situation I ’ m in. I ’ m in bad shape. I can ’ t even lie to myself about that. I can feel everything, as far as I can tell, which is both good and painful. Less likely there is any serious, permanent damage, but fuck, it hurts. I ’ m banged up real good, but my neck is the worst, I think. I struggle to move my head without wanting to scream in agony. Even swallowing or breathing hurts.
“ Tes-in-, o-e, tw-, th-ee.” Shit . I sound like a carton-a-day smoker with a tracheostomy.
Fuck .
It ’ s evident I can ’ t stay here. I ’ ll freeze to death before morning. No one will be coming to save me. Hell, I don ’ t even know where I am, let alone the likelihood of anyone else knowing. With a heavy, resigned sigh, I put one foot in front of the other and make my way toward the scant light and the only clear exit I can see.
The more I walk, the more I realize I ’ ve been here. I ’ m sure I have. When my gaze snags on something sparkling ahead, I know without a doubt where I am. I ’ m back where we started, at the warehouse, and that ’ s my clutch, discarded with the rest of the trash.
A small squeal of excitement escapes me, or tries to, but it scrapes against my vocal cords on the way out and gets stuck. Gingerly, I bend, praying my cell is still in it and working, and that I don ’ t fall ass over tits and can ’ t get up again.
Success!
One cell phone and one set of keys. The relief I feel is overwhelming. If I wasn ’ t so utterly exhausted, I think I would sob with joy—until I find the phone dead, that is. Praying it ’ s got a little juice still in it, I hold the on button down. It blazes to life, but flashes one percent battery. Groaning, I hurry to open the maps app and catch sight of exactly where I am, seeing a hospital not far from me before it dies its final death.
With that in mind, and a somewhat clearer picture of where I am, I head for the hospital. I have to stop repeatedly to catch my breath and pick stones out of my aching feet. Not to mention the few times I get a little turned around. What should have been maybe a fifteen minute walk turns into at least thirty, though it feels like I ’ ve been walking for hours by the time I see the bright lights of the hospital entrance.
As soon as I clear the emergency doors, I collapse to my hands and knees, shaking so violently I struggle to see. It ’ s funny how you can be numb, feel nothing around you, but still be in agony. Bit rude, that.
“ Get her up, now. Careful. Jesus Christ, what happened to her?”
The lights swim, and my vision blurs, while my ears ring with white noise. I black out a little here and there but catch some unpleasant words like ‘ chloroform ’ , ‘ hypothermia ’ , and ‘ assault kit ’ . I tune out after that, the numbness taking over. There are too many shining lights and fingers everywhere, stripping me and wrapping me in warming blankets, shoving IV fluids in my arms. Scraping and swabbing me in too many places to count or pay much attention to…
I think I sleep for a while.
I lose track of time, not that I had a great concept of it when I first woke up with the trash. It feels like ages and like the blink of an eye. I ’ m asked so many questions I barely know my own name at this point, but talking is difficult. I end up having to nod, though that hurts too, so it ’ s kind of this weird shake/blinking thing with my eyes. The message comes across at least ; I think. I ’ m told I ’ ll heal fully, though, and that all my tests were negative, including for DNA, but I don ’ t really pay attention to those details. Negative is all I need to hear. I ’ m given antibiotics just in case and am offered PEP, but I ’ m able to explain I get the shots every two months.
Eventually I ’ m released, against advice but at my insistence. I want to go home and lick my wounds in private.
“ Do you have someone who can come get you?”
Do I?
“ No. ” I croak out. “ It ’ s. Fine. I—okay.”
One of the nurses who ’ s been tending to me the most frowns, true concern shrouding her soft face. She fishes in her pocket and pulls out a twenty. I smile weakly and thank her, still in a daze. But I try to remember her name as best I can so I can return the favor one day.
I almost fall face-first into the cab. It takes the poor driver a few times to get my attention, if his tone is anything to go by.
“ So-ry? ”
“ Where are we going?”
“ I, um …”
At my stumble, his face softens, and his tone morphs.
“ Forgive me for saying this, but you look pretty rough. Is there someone at home for you?”
“ No. ”
“ Is there somewhere I can take you where there is?”
My mind goes somewhere it shouldn ’ t, and an address that isn ’ t my own tumbles out of my mouth.
I take a deep breath, wincing at the rawness everywhere, and knock, my hand shaking hard. Or is it my arm that ’ s trembling, and the hand is just attached?
A million thoughts race through my head, making it pound even more. There ’ s one that ’ s overshadowing the rest of them, though. I just need to see his face. Even if it ’ s only for a few seconds before he slams the door in mine.
It takes an age for it to open, at which point my legs have joined my arms and are shaking so violently I ’ m about to crumple to the floor at any minute. I pull myself together as much as I can, but it ’ s a struggle enough to keep me upright.
Just a little while longer.
“ Vivienne, what the hell—” He cuts himself off, and his eyes turn to saucers when he takes me in, in all my scrub-wearing glory.
“ S-xy. Ri-ht? ”
“ Jesus, Viv. Your voice and your face!”
“ I ’ m… fine. ” I wave him off, and he moves as if to take a step forward, hands rushing out as I wobble, but blessedly, I keep standing.
“ You are far from fine. Is that—are those—finger marks on your neck? Jesus Christ, Vivienne, what the fuck happened? Who did this to you?”
“ It ’ s… fine. I just—you—face…sorry—things…” Fuck.
“ Vivienne! ”
Jeremy ’ s face turns horror-struck right before the world spins out of focus . I realize too late that I ’ m passing out and going to hit the floor.
Time blurs again. I have no sense of it, no real feel for it, but somewhere in the back of my addled mind, I know it ’ s passing me by. I come in and out of focus. Soft, sweet words rouse me to drink. At some point , I think I hear a woman ’ s voice, but maybe that was my own. Though it didn ’ t sound broken or damaged. Am I fixed?
“ Jer-my? ” It comes out weak and raspy.
I wince, but it hurts to move my face, so I cut that shit out quick.
“ Shhh, it ’ s okay. I ’ m here.” He sounds far away, but then I feel his warmth envelop me, and I ’ m weightless.
I feel myself slipping again, but something important pushes through the haze.
“ Max.”
“ What?”
“ Ne-ds. Know. Not dead.”
But before I hear a response, I ’ m slipping into oblivion once more.
Something warm and firm presses to my forehead while fingers brush against my hair, rousing me from some place deep and dark. A soft, cotton-flowery smell wafts past my nose. The urge to laugh surprises me until my mind clears a little more and I realize why.The polarity in the two times I ’ ve passed out and regained consciousness tonight—wait, that doesn ’ t seem right.
“ Hey, sorry, it ’ s time for meds.”
Slowly, I open my eyes and find Jeremy hovering above me. He ’ s pale, with days ’ worth of stubble shadowing his jaw. It looks like he hasn ’ t slept in a week.
“ Hi,” I rasp, giving him a small smile.
“ Hi. ” He releases a breath like he ’ s been holding it for hours and passes me a glass of water and some pills. “ For pain,” he says simply. I swallow them down, though it ’ s not easy. “ Do you need the bathroom?”
I shake my head and try to speak, but nothing comes out. I groan, desperately trying to clear my throat , to no avail.
“ You ’ ll do more damage—” At the look on my face, Jeremy shuts up, a lopsided grin curving his mouth. “ So stubborn. It ’ s good to see. You gave me the fright of my life, Viv. I honest to god thought you were dying.”
I don ’ t want to think about that too closely. “— sorry. Shouldn ’ t.” I groan again and finish the water, willing my damn body to work. “ Shouldn ’ t have…shown up here…not after…everything.” I force the words out, still sounding like an old man.
“ Why did you?”
His question catches me off guard. There ’ s no heat in it, no anger, only plain curiosity.
“ I…I don ’ t know.” He sees the lie before I even realize I spoke one, and the truth hits me like a sledgehammer. “ The cabbie asked where…yours was the first place, the first face…I thought of.” My voice cracks painfully throughout, and my eyes blur. “ I guess I didn ’ t want to be alone.”
“ Vivienne. ”
I ’ m so stupid and selfish. And weak. I turn my head away from him, desperate to hide my shame.
“ Look at me. Please.”
My body struggles to obey, taking all the strength I have to shift, avoiding eye contact with Jeremy like the chicken I am. I can ’ t look at him. I ’ ll break. “ I shouldn ’ t—be here.”
“ Well, you ’ re here now.”
“ This isn ’ t…fair to you. I ’ m being selfish…as always. I wasn ’ t thinking.”
“ Vivienne, I don ’ t want you to leave. If you do, I ’ m just going to follow you. Besides, you don ’ t look like you ’ re in any state to go anywhere.” He tries to make light, but I can hear the concern. It runs deep.
“ I ’ ll be fine.”
He takes my chin gently in his hand, forcing me to look at him.
“ Please. Stay. Let me take care of you.”
“ I don ’ t deserve it.” I don ’ t deserve you.
He smiles, the lopsided one that makes my heart skip a beat, and I ’ m struck again by how handsome I find his face. So lovely, so open, so… pure.
The dam cracks, and a few stray tears fall. A silent stream down my face, one after the other, catching on Jeremy ’ s fingers. His crooked grin slips to a small, sad one as he wipes the remaining tears away with his thumb. I will never be good enough for this boy. He deserves so much more than me, but I don ’ t know how to quit him. I don ’ t know how to give him up.
Releasing my face, Jeremy shoots in beside me, scoops me up and into his arms with a gentleness that surprises me, and cradles me against his chest.
“ Please don ’ t cry. Stay so I can take care of you.”
“ But —”
“ I know.”
“ I owe—”
“ It ’ s okay.”
“ It ’ s not. It ’ s so not okay. And I can ’ t—”
“ I called my dad.” I vaguely remember asking Jeremy to call him. All the same, I still, my heart rate kicking up a notch. Please say he ’ s okay . “ I ’ ve never heard him so…emotional.”
Relief fills me. Poor Max. I can ’ t imagine how much he ’ s been suffering, wondering what was happening, what could happen…
“ You told him…I was fine. Right?” He ’ s silent, and I know the answer. “ Shit, Jeremy. I… fine. You ’ ll have…him worrying for…nothing.”
“ Fine? You ’ re not fine. You ’ re struggling to talk, and wince constantly.”
“ I am—”
“ Vivienne, you ’ ve been basically unconscious for almost two days.”
“ What?” That can ’ t be right.
“ You showed up at my door just after seven a.m. on Sunday.” Sunday? What the fuck? “ It ’ s a little after one a.m. on Tuesday, and it ’ s the first time you ’ ve been this lucid since.”
“ Fu—ck.”
“ What happened to you?” I flinch, just a little, and his hands tighten on me a fraction. “ Vivienne? ”
“ I…I just…I realize I smell.” It ’ s probably the truth.
He ’ s silent for a beat before he offers, “ only faintly of a hospital. Why is that, Viv? What happened?”
“ Nothing…that matters. I ’ m…I ’ ll be fine.” Three days, with next to no memory. How long was I unconscious the first time? And how long had I been in that alley before I woke up? Shit …
“ It matters, Vivienne. More than you know. Dad said…he says it ’ s his fault.”
“ No! ” I wince and lower my voice. “ God, no. He didn ’ t do this.”
I taste blood, and my lip throbs anew. Great .
“ I know that. I wouldn ’ t think him capable of…of…this, but he wouldn ’ t explain how it was his fault or how he was involved, let alone anything about what happened to you. Just kept mumbling to himself that he was to blame. Vivienne, please, I need to know. I ’ m going out of my mind.”
We ’ re both silent, me because I can ’ t say anything, and Jeremy because he ’ s waiting, willing me to explain. He has to know I won ’ t. It ’ s not mine to tell, and the parts that are, well, he doesn ’ t need to know them.
“ Did he say anything else?”
He sighs, dejected. “ Just that it ’ s your story to tell now.”
“ I—what?”
“ He said you saved him, in more ways than one, and took over the narrative. It ’ s all his fault, and it ’ s your story to tell, not his. He paid you to help him, and it all went terribly wrong, and you paid the ultimate price. And it ’ s all his fault.”
“ Oh…”
“ Oh? ” he scoffs, frustration marring his tone and stiffening his body.
And the next thing I know, it ’ s all just coming out. Every single moment of the past five or so months. Slow and broken, my voice cracking here and there, the truth all spills out. How I met Max and came to be in that lobby. The deal we struck—the whole damn freaking story. Every single word of it. Except for a few important details toward the end…
“ Wait.” Jeremy shifts, tilting me upward. “ I need to see your face for this. You ’ re telling me you never…with my father?”
“ Only as a charade, never anything more.”
“ He hired to help him win back all the money he lost? Because he has a gambling problem, and you ’ re some lucky charm who can read people?”
“ Something like that.”
“ Okay…”
I can see Jeremy processing, the wheels turning in his head, his eyes a mix of relief, confusion, and worry. I stay silent and wait.
“ Go on.”
“ Your company is safe, and Max is going to get professional help—it ’ s a clause in our contract. That ’ s all that matters.”
“ No, don ’ t give me that. There ’ s more. So much more you ’ re leaving out.”
“ Not that needs telling.”
“ Vivienne. ”
“ No. ”
I pull away, wanting nothing more than to curl in on myself and rock.
“ Hey. I ’ m sorry.”
“ That ’ s everything. Okay?”
“ Okay.”
We ’ re quiet again, and it ’ s so heavy. I can almost see Jeremy ’ s brain swimming with questions and possible answers, but I can ’ t tell him. It ’ ll only make it worse. After a few minutes, Jeremy breaks the silence.
“ Are you hungry? I made soup.”
“ You cooked?”
I can feel the eye roll behind me. “ That ’ s getting old. You know I can. It ’ s you who can ’ t.”
“ But is it edible?”
“ No, I went to all the trouble of making you something you could eat only to poison you , so you end up back in the hospital.”
“ Well, at least I ’ m dressed for it,” I deadpan, but I ’ m smiling inside.
“ Will you just eat it?”
“ Will you spoon-feed me?” He chuckles behind me, and I can totally picture him throwing it at me. “ I ’ ll try.”
He shifts me so I ’ m nestled between his legs and leans over to grab the bowl on the bedside table, placing the yellowy-green goodness in my hands.
“ Wow, it smells amazing.”
“ Should still be warm. It ’ s cheese, broccoli, and potato. ” My favorite.
I get choked up all over again and lose the ability to speak. Jeremy seems to sense this, and I feel his lips brush against my hair, causing me to melt into him.
“ Talk to me?”
“ About?”
“ Anything. You talk, and I ’ ll eat.”
So he does. About nothing and everything. Work, and the projects he ’ s on, and the clients he ’ s wooing. His latest TV addiction—something about a mandarin and a baby yodal—that sounds weird as fuck. His sister and nephew, though he admits a little sheepishly that he called her for help.
“ I didn ’ t know what you needed, and I hoped she ’ d have some clue. Did I tell you she was studying to be a nurse?”
“ I…maybe? I ’ m not sure. I ’ m still a little fuzzy around the edges.”
“ Right, yeah, of course. Do you, uh, want more?” he asks, gesturing to my now-empty bowl as he moves out from behind me.
“ No. Thank you . It was perfect.”
“ How are you feeling?”
“ Okay. I ’ m—”
“ Fine? So you keep saying.”
“ I am. But, umm, maybe, if you have something, I could change?” I look down at the wrinkled, days-old scrubs and cringe.
“ Yeah, of course. My sister left some stuff for you. Do you want a shower first?”
“ Yes. Oh, god, yes.”
“ Are you…uh…can you manage on your own?” I imagine Jeremy blushing and look up to see a slight pink staining his cheeks, but his forehead is furrowed in concern, overshadowing his embarrassment.
“ Umm. ” He poses a valid question. I shift my weight, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, and realize that ’ s about all the strength I have. “ Is a sponge bath out of the question?”
“ I can call my sister again, see if she can come back around.”
“ No, don ’ t do that. I ’ ll just shower later. It ’ s fine. ”
“ Nope. ”
He hauls me into his arms before I can protest, so carefully it ’ s as if I ’ m made of china, and carries me into the bathroom like I weigh no more than a small child. I get a strange sense of d é jà vu, like he ’ s done this before, but it passes before I can take hold of it.
I catch sight of my face and neck in the mirror for the first time and swiftly turn away. Jesus, it ’ s bad. Jeremy places me on the toilet seat, and I smile at the thought of falling in, but then nature calls rather insistently.
“ Jer, can I have a minute—”
“ Oh, right, yeah.”
He hurries out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him. I manage on my own, though it ’ s a bit of a struggle. Once I finish up, Jeremy checks that it ’ s all clear before coming back in and heading for the shower. He plays with the dials, testing the spray before turning back to me, biting his lip.
“ Do you have anything on under those scrubs?”
I shake my head.
“ Right.” A war rages behind his sapphire eyes until a decision is made. “ I won ’ t look, okay?”
I pause. Usually it wouldn ’ t bother me and I ’ d make some lewd remark, but I have no idea what state the rest of my body is in. Without knowing what else to say, or do, I nod and try to stand on my own. I fail miserably, and Jeremy catches me before I fall.
“ Damn it. Sorry, you don ’ t have—”
“ Shh. We ’ ve got this.”
With me in his arms, Jeremy undresses us both. His shirt and slacks hit the floor first; his black boxers, I notice, stay on. I help as best I can as he gets the scrubs off, all the while keeping his eyes closed tight . I ’ d chuckle if I had it in me.
Awkwardly, we step into the steaming shower, my back to Jeremy ’ s front, his arm around my middle, holding most of my weight against him so I don ’ t collapse. As soon as the spray hits hard against my skin, I wince. All I do is fucking wince, but Jeremy notices—he rarely misses anything—and moves further in, twisting us around so the spray hits him, running off his body onto mine instead.
“ Better? ”
I nod, feeling oddly emotional until I catch sight of the rest of my body in the mirror and gasp. “ What?”
Now it ’ s Jeremy ’ s turn to wince, and I know he opened his eyes and is seeing my neck in all its ugly glory without a curtain of hair to hide it. But I can ’ t bring myself to look at him in the mirror to confirm.
“ Oh, Vivienne. ”
The pain in his voice breaks me, and I can ’ t help but find his eyes in the mirror.
“ It ’ s not all bad. At least my phone sex voice is better.” I shrug, desperate to lighten the mood.
I didn ’ t think it was possible, but his face falls even more, and his eyes drop and then narrow, landing on the fading bite marks on my breasts. Instinctively, I bring my arms up to shield them, but I almost want to laugh at that. I ’ ve never wanted to hide myself before. This shame is new and un-fucking-wanted.
“ Sorry.”
“ Stop apologizing.”
I nod, not trusting the words not to be another apology.
Jeremy wraps his arms around me and brushes a tender kiss across my shoulder.
“ I ’ m sorry. I promised I wouldn ’ t look, and I really didn ’ t mean to. The last thing I want to is to make you feel more uncomfortable. You shouldn ’ t have to hide. You never have to hide from me. It ’ s just hard to see. It pains me to see.”
“ I know. It ’ s okay. It ’ s just…I ’ m…it looks worse than it is, and I don ’ t want you to see it and think—”
“ And think what?”
“ Think anything, really.”
“ It ’ s far too late for that. And it doesn ’ t look worse than it is. I ’ m not an idiot, Viv.”
I shift, as best I can, to turn in his arms, but I ’ m not managing it on my own. Jeremy has to help.
“ I know you ’ re not an idiot, Jer, but I can live with this. What I can ’ t live with is the anguish written all over your face.”
I raise a hand and softly rub at the worry lines marring his forehead . But they remain.
“ Can you?”
“ Yes. ” I have to. What other option do I have? “ I made a choice, knowing the outcome wouldn ’ t be favorable.”
“ Favorable? For fuck ’ s sake, Viv, this—” I press a finger to his lips, shutting him up.
“ My eyes were wide open. I knew what I was getting myself into. I weighed the pros and cons, and the pros far outweighed the cons. This is nothing, I ’ m fine. I ’ ll heal. No permanent damage.”
A light goes on behind Jeremy ’ s sad blue eyes, and I want to curse myself for saying as much as I did.
“ You willingly…you…for my dad? That ’ s how you saved him, saved the company? You paid the price with your body.”
He sees the truth written all over my face. I couldn ’ t hide it even if I wanted to. The writing is literally all over my body.
He crushes me to him, burying my face in his chest, wrapping me so tightly in his arms it almost hurts, but it feels so overwhelmingly good, I weep. It all comes out in salty rivulets running down his perfect bare chest. I cry, and cry some more, and it feels like it ’ s never going to stop.
Jeremy says nothing, just holds me tighter while I continue to sob against him. At one point, I catch a whispered thank you muffled against my hair, and Jeremy ’ s lips kissing the top of my head, and I cry even harder still.
I cry until there ’ s nothing left to cry about, until the water cools and my soul is purged.