CHAPTER TWO
Awake
LAKE
I can’t open my eyes. There’s a ringing in my ears that’s blocking the rest of my senses. I search through the ringing to find my pattern of breathing.
Shoot. Where am I?
I stress my eyelids, trying to pry them apart, but nothing happens. All I see is pitch black. A void of emptiness. I crawl through the tunnels, but nothing gets lighter. I might be dead. Yeah. This is my afterlife. I’ll lay here with my stiff body until it rots. I’ll wait for my brain to disintegrate along with the rest of my flesh and organs, and then this void will truly be nothing.
A voice cuts into the piercing ringing. It’s a deep voice with layers of irritation. It sighs and spits out, “I hope you’re happy.”
There’s a moment of silence, and then a different voice follows, “I’m damn elated.” The feminine tone strikes. Whoever said that stomps and lashes open a curtain. The footsteps disappear with distance.
***
When I gain awareness for the second time, my eyes open. The first thing I see is a tall white coat covering most of the dark blue material underneath. A hand clicks a pen and slides it into a white coat’s front pocket.
“Hey.” I look up further. I recognize his voice. It sounds like the man I heard earlier. His jaw is clenching.
Something touches my left hand. I turn my head as fast as possible, but weakness overpowers me. A woman in bright yellow scrubs grips my hand with both of hers. “Hi,” she greets. “Do you know where you are right now?”
I study every visible inch of this room. The only wall is behind me. The rest is a stained blue curtain on tons of rusting hooks that are sprawled out along the silver bar. I’m laying on my back with a similar blue blanket on me. My chest is bare and red. It feels bruised.
Crap.
“Hospital,” I choke out, like it’s the first word I’ve ever spoken. My throat feels like I swallowed a crushed-up light bulb.
The woman nods and smiles at me. It’s the kind of smile that brings a wave of comfort.
“He’s fine Maggie. I’ll run my examination, and you can ask more questions.”
I’m going to assume Maggie is this warm woman in blinding yellow scrubs. Her smile changes from genuine to forced as she looks at the dude next to me. She leaves me alone with the guy. I kind of wish she stayed, because the tension echoing from him is making me sick.
“You overdosed.” He pops a stethoscope into his ears and slaps the other end of it on my chest, “Inhale.”
Thanks for letting me know?
He’s standing at an awkward length from my bed, like he’s scared to get too close to me. His face looks mid-gag. I inhale and puff out my breath.
He slaps the stethoscope lower on my chest. “Inhale.”
“Got a problem?” I grit.
He ticks his jaw to the side and pushes the stethoscope deeper into my flesh. I suck in another breath and release it.
“Asked you a question.”
“I don’t have a problem.” He pulls the stethoscope out of his ears.
I think you do. “Got a name?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He turns his body towards me and jabs his finger at the tag on his coat. Dr. Fletcher. Alright Dr. Fletchfuddy, let’s have some fun. “You a nurse, Fletcher?”
His jaw rolls like he wants his teeth to fall out of his head. He taps his finger on the Dr. “Do you not know what D-R stands for?”
I’m far from being tolerant right now. The last thing I want is to be stuck in a hospital with people biting at me with a bitchy attitude.
“You’re examining. Maybe I’ve gone cross-eyed. Or I got a brain tumor. Maybe you got a stick up your ass, and the tag should read Dr. Prick.”
For the first time during this whole encounter, Dr. Prick looks me in the eye. His stare is bitter and shrewd. Filled with judgment. “Listen,” he says, popping the stethoscope back in his ears, “I don’t like people like you. You’re aggressive. Let’s just get your examination done with.”
People like me.
Every part of me wants to fling a quick smack across his cheek, but he’s the one with authority here. I’d like to keep myself out of jail. For now, at least.
“Sure thing Doc. No problem.”
He kicks at something beneath where I can see, and my bed rises. “Try to be a little grateful that you’re even alive.”
Once I’m sat up, I lean forward. He jabs the stethoscope on my upper back, and I breathe in before he tells me to.
“You were dead for almost six minutes.”
“Dead?”
I died? Explains why my chest hurts. It would’ve been nice for my doctor to tell me that before stabbing at me with his little doctor tools.
“Yup.”
“Well, thanks for saving my life Doc, so kind.” I flutter my eyelashes.
He moves the stethoscope and digs the cold metal into my flesh. “I didn’t.” He chuckles. “One of the nurses did. I would’ve let you—” He stops like his rich and fancy lawyer is shouting at him to not finish that sentence.
“What’s your name?” He switches the topic to cover up his tracks.
This is the part where I shut my mouth. I avoid every question for as long as possible. There’s one thing I don’t want in my life; to change. Nothing, not even an overdose, can bring me to that point.
Dr. Fletcher doesn’t give a shit. He doesn’t press for an answer. My medical examination is finished with nothing but a lot of deep, irritated sighs.
***
My curtain swings open, and the lady in yellow steps in. She shuts the curtain and brings the clipboard she’s holding in front of her.
“Hi dear, I’m Maggie.”
Right. Maggie. At least she gives introductions before attacking me.
She has one of those chains around her neck that attaches to her glasses. Her lips squish and she pulls at the chain, leaning back so it’ll slide up her neck. She sets the glasses on the bridge of her nose.
“How about we start with your name, dear?”
Her voice is nurturing and… motherly. I don’t want to answer her question, though. Don’t want to do anything now. I’ve been to hospitals a few times and I can’t stand it. Usually only here for two days before I’m transferred to a treatment clinic. This time will be different. I died.
There’s one hospital in Boston that has a treatment clinic on the third floor. Every time I’m hauled into an ambulance, I cross my fingers and beg not to be sent there, because I don’t wanna be sober. No. I wanna remain an insignificant person compared to the other eight billion on the damn planet. Stay high. Not a care in the world.
My begging has worked until now. I don’t recognize this hospital despite the dull colors being like any other hospital. I am high out of my mind, and the hospital will keep me that way so my heart doesn’t quit. I might just be too strung out to recognize my surroundings. Still panicking, though. I didn’t cross my fingers. The last thing I remember is slumping against the wall in some Chinese takeout place.
“Don’t want to answer questions.” I refuse to look her in the eye.
Maggie’s smile lessens, but her lips are still poking upwards. She’s probably been here for hours without having a moment to sit down. I know it has to do with me causing trauma after dying in her ER. “I know you’re tired, but I need your name, hun.” She clicks her pen, hopeful I’ll give her an answer.
Got a couple of choices. The best option is to get the hell out of here. If I answer one question, it’ll lead to thousands more, and help is the last thing I want. I think I’ve stayed here long enough.
“Nope. Leaving.” I push away the fleece blanket and drag myself to the edge of the bed. The IV in my arm slows me down. I reach for it to rip it out of my vein, but it only takes Maggie two seconds to reach me.
“Hell no, boy.” She puts her hand on my shoulder and nudges me back against the mattress.
Her little shove is gentle, but it knocks the wind out of me. Half of me feels conscious and the other half of me doesn’t. My brain isn’t connected to my body.
There’s a tiny part of me screaming to run while I have the chance, but my eyes are droopy. It’s frozen outside of this blanket. Maggie holds the clipboard in one hand and grabs onto my waist to push the rest of me onto the mattress.
“Are you gonna answer any of my questions?” she asks, tucking the blanket around me.
That little voice in my mind convinces me to avert my eyes and ignore.
Maggie looks back at the curtain. She shakes her head. From here, it looks like she’s communicating with a ghost. She squats to peer under the curtain.
She forces out an exhale and turns to me. I keep my eyes off of her. She taps her pen against the clipboard. Another few beats pass, and when she realizes my answer isn’t coming, she reaches for the curtain, throwing it open.
“Get your butt in here.” Maggie snaps her fingers and leans farther out from the curtain. “I can sense you, girl, get up.”
Some shoes squeak, and there’s a thud. I can’t spot whoever’s on the other side.
“If Caleb took you off the case and caught you, you’d be in deep shit,” Maggie steps back as light footsteps approach.
“Caleb didn’t take me off the case?” That voice. I recognize it too. “I’m damn elated.”
Right. I heard her.
Maggie shakes her head. “No, you saved the boy’s life.”
So she’s the one that saved my life. The silhouette pushes the curtain to step in.
Who the hell looks that good in scrubs?
The woman standing next to Maggie is in light pink scrubs. They look custom-made. The material hugs at her waist and smooths against her hips, and somehow, the normal boxy material is curving against her chest. I wonder if it’s just the pink, or do all her scrubs make her look like she’s on her way to the Met-Gallo or whatever the hell it’s called?
She’s like a deer caught in the headlights. She has these big doe eyes that cover half of her face. They could just be wider than usual.
She’s staring at me and the green in her eyes is shooting out into vines, wrapping around my body. I can feel it, too. The vines are tightening and drawing me closer. Wow, I’m buzzed.
Her hair is pulled back into a knot. I can’t tell how long that luscious blonde hair is. I don’t care either.
Maggie flips through the pages attached to the clipboard and draws little stars on the ones she needs answers to. When the nurse meets my eyes, hers manage to widen even more. Her cheeks are burning scarlet within a few seconds. I huff out a breath and my smirk grows.
“She saved my life?” I raise a finger and point it in Blondie’s direction.
Maggie looks up from the clipboard. She slaps the pen on it and shoves it at the nurse. “Yes. Is there a problem with that?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Thanks, Angel.”
She sure looks like an angel. The Angel’s face flushes a deeper shade of red. She turns her head away from Maggie as Maggie takes a step closer to her.
“He’s high. Ignore the flirting.”
I think Maggie attempted to whisper that, but I could still hear it. Maggie clears her throat and leans closer, this time whispering something I can’t hear. Then she takes her leave and disappears behind the curtain. Angel crouches, clipboard at her chest, and waits a moment to make sure Maggie actually leaves.
“Alright Mr. Nobody, how are you feeling?” She beams a smile, and something happens in my chest. Maybe it’s just stopping again.
“Shitty,” I slur. No. She’ll ask me why. “Fine.” I chew on the skin inside my cheek.
“What happened?” Her voice quiets out at the end of her sentence.
She clenches the clipboard tighter and stares at me. The room is spinning. My eyes are fighting to stay open. I don’t want to dwell on the past or what’s happening now. Not usually what I do. Thankfully, the IV pumping stuff into my veins is stopping me from thinking much at all.
“Sorry. Let’s start with your name?” Her shoulders inching toward her ears.
I keep chewing on my skin. I stare at the little black specks in the ceiling tile. Angel waits. She hums to herself like she has endless time to stand and stare. A few minutes into her solo humming competition, she bops her head. Then she brings her hands above her head and moves in a circle, inching her hips in different directions.
There’s no chance she’s dancing in circles right now.
“Do you know this song?” she asks, returning to humming the tune.
I stare at her with my jaw open. I thought the doctor was the craziest encounter I’ve had in a hospital, but this takes the cake.
Her jig goes from awkward movements to smooth circles of her hips. It’s ridiculous that she’s prancing around in circles while some guy is screaming a few curtains down. She looks unreal, caught up in her moment like a stranger isn’t watching her.
“Can’t tell without lyrics.”
God, she’s gorgeous, but she isn’t my type. Though my spiking heart-rate beeping beside me seems to disagree. Not my type at all. She’s spinning around with a grin on her lips, looking like a damn sun that just crashed onto earth. Too happy. Too radiant.
“It’s from one of my favorite rom-coms.” She takes a step forward and holds her hands a space away from her hips, shimmying like she’s frilling a dress skirt.
I grunt. “Not surprised.”
Of course she likes rom-coms. She’s so bright it’s blinding. If she were to poke me, I’d explode from all the electricity that’s wagging throughout her like yappy puppies.
“What do you mean?”
She whips her head from side to side. I can picture her doing that with her hair down. Batting her wide eyes and breathing out heavy breaths while her hair falls in her face. I’m so high and this woman is annoying the hell out of me. What the hell am I thinking?
“Not surprised you like romance.”
Angel’s record scratches. “Do you not like romantic comedies?” She drops her hands, stands still and quits her humming. Thank God.
“No.”
Angel’s mouth falls open. “Why? They’re—” She holds her hands in front of her and looks to the sky. “They’re…”
“Ridiculous?” I suggest.
Angel shakes her head. “Beautiful.”
“Unrealistic,” my voice is barely audible.
She stabs her hand into her hip. “What’s so bad about a little perfectly probable fiction?”
“It’s not probable.”
“They sure are.” She takes her pen in one hand and points it at me. “Two people working in an office, forbidden love, sneaking around in offices and denying the seriousness. Because it’ll ruin both their reputations for different reasons.”
“Abuse of power in the real world.” I raise an eyebrow.
She lowers her eyebrows and narrows her gaze. My lips curve upward again. Angel seems offended at my remark, like I just flipped her entire world upside down, and she can’t stand it.
“Alright, Mr. Nobody.”
She takes a step towards my bed. “A Princess stowed away from her strict parents, longing for the peasant boy that nobody respects.”
Oh hell. My world is upside down. I died and was reborn into Blondie’s fantasy land. Next thing I know, she’ll pull a stack of romance books out from behind her and start reading them to me.
“Angel, why are we even having this conversation? Stop talking.”
This Rapunzel-looking woman is the type to notice me in the street and bolt in a different direction. I get that she’s here to do a job, but her kindness not ending there is more confusing than death.
“A man taking over his father’s butcher shop. Across the road, a young woman opens an astounding vegan cupcake shop, and everyone hates meat because she’s pretty and sells cupcakes. He also hates meat.” She waves around her hands like she’s monologuing on a stage.
“Weirdly specific.” I run my tongue along the roof of my mouth. It’s dry as hell.
“Two people trapped in an airport. They’re models. They’ve needed to fake their lives for publicity and safety nets. This is their one shot to be themselves in a time of weakness. They realize how similar they are after years of fighting for labels and photoshoots.” She tucks the clipboard under her arm, clasps her hands together and nuzzles her knuckles into her cheek. “They kiss. True love’s kiss.”
I can’t fathom how one person can be so animated. Every movement she does is straight out of a damn cartoon. “Shush. You’re the reason my chest hurts, Angel.”
She shoots me a look, but it doesn’t stop her from talking. “Two people fighting for valedictorian. They despise each other and have spent their entire time together in college. They try to sabotage each other, only to develop—”
“My name.” I cut her off.
Her beaming grin returns. She taps her head in my direction. I wait a moment, making sure she won’t start spewing bullshit out of her mouth again. “Lake Phoenix.”
Angel places a hand on her hip in the most sassy way possible. “Your name is Lake?”
“Yup.” I pop the ‘p.’
“That’s real funny, Mister. What’s your actual name?” She tilts her head. She’s snickering too. I just stare at her. I’m starting to see two of her. Her giggling subsides, and her smile fades. “Your name is actually Lake?”
“Sure is. Don’t like it?”
She swings her head. Her face is turning bright fucking red again. “No, I mean.” Her eyes dart around the small space. “I do like it,” she says.
“I’ll have it changed.”
Daggers shoot out of her eyes. “I said I like your name.”
“Listen, Angel,” I try to sit up but fail. “Can’t have you liking my name when I don’t like you.”
“I don’t like you either.”
My mouth twitches. She’s insulting me back? Her patient?
“I’m trying to help you, and you’re being kind of rude,” she adds, in the softest, most non-threatening tone. Her eyes lift from the clipboard and meet mine. It takes a second, but the grin on her face can’t contain the giggling that passes from her lips.
“My bad, Angel. I was getting worried you’d start dancing again. Had to stop it.”
“No worries.” She shrugs. “I got your name, so I don’t care much.”
A bit of respect bubbles in my stomach. “Did you piss me off with your romance crap so I’d give you my name?”
She bites on her lip to hide the smile that’s twitching on her face. “Sure did. Do I win an answer to another question?” She scrolls her eyes over my arms. “You know, since I did sort of bruise your ribs and you’ve had some very dangerous occurrences today, you’re being admitted. It’s mandatory.”
I furrow my eyebrows.
“You might as well get this over with.” She taps her clipboard.
What harm could it do? I guess I’m not getting out of here anytime soon. “Fine.”
Somehow, her smile grows, practically reaching the ends of her eyes. Her slightly crooked teeth radiate a genuineness about her. She may be more energetic than an entire Disney film, but she’s real. Completely real.
“Your age?” She clicks her pen and hovers it over the page.
“Twenty-four.”
She strums and scribbles on the paper. “When you’re more awake, I’ll ask you about insurance and stuff.”
I sink deeper into the mattress. Good. Angel digs the clipboard into her abdomen and pulls out a few folded papers. Brochures. No. Nope.
“I thought you were done bothering me,” I groan, and I toss my head back against the pillow. “Not going to rehab.”
“Why not? Can’t afford it?”
“That, and I don’t want to.” I huff. “Not again. Doesn’t work.”
She stares at me for a while. There’s a pain in her face I want to ask about. I almost regret what I said. I wish she’d go back to being chirpy.
“Is there anyone I can call for you?”
There’s the question. The only question I answer, with no one needing to pry for it. “Yeah.” I still hesitate. “My best friend, Brooks.”
Angel writes his name and number as I give it to her. “I’ll give Brooks a call.”
I yawn, causing Angel to yawn. Only her yawn lasts for a century, and she leans like she’s seconds away from fainting.
“Long day? Shift over soon?”
Would smack myself if I had the strength. Why am I keeping the conversation going? I’ve known this annoying ball of fire for ten minutes and her romance-obsessed self is already trying to stick to me.
“It ended an hour ago,” she mumbles.
“You’ve been on your feet for a whole thirteen hours?”
All she does is shrug her shoulders. Then her sleepy eyes follow the scars up and down my arms again. I’m never too high to miss the looks I get about my arms, but again, her eyes hold no hostility.
“I’m fine, Angel. You should sleep.”
Her doe eyes go wide, like that was what she needed to hear for her brain to stop its motions. “I’m going to have you moved out of the ER.”
I think I nod my head, but whatever is in this IV is making me so tired I can’t tell what I’m doing anymore. Or saying.
“Sleep well, Lake Phoenix.”
I watch her gentle smile disappear as the curtain shuts, but the moment the presence of her is gone, I settle into the knowing that I died. I went too far this time. I made my own heart stop beating–and I don’t know how to feel about that. Not sure if I’m anywhere near happy about being saved from death, either.
My eyes get heavier with each passing thought, and I push away the self-ruining questions about my death until I fall asleep.