Toxic Wishes (The Killian Brothers #1)

1. Abigail – “Where the Words leave off, music begins”-Heinrich Heine

1

Abigail

“Where the Words leave off, music begins”-Heinrich Heine

The nurse comes in to check my weight for what feels like the tenth time today already.

“Did you eat all your food?” I look over at my plate of food that’s barely touched, then back at the nurse with a raised eyebrow. “If you guys want me to gain weight, can’t you bring me a pizza or something worth eating?” I ask.

“Has your mom not visited you yet? You're welcome to eat outside food. We can’t order it or bring it to you personally.”

I shift my gaze to the white cement floor. “She said she would be back in an hour.” That was three hours ago.

“Okay, c’mon on.” the nurse says.

I throw the heavy white blankets off me. I’ve been in here for a week now, and I am so ready to go home, but they had to get my heart stabilized and my body weight up before even considering letting me go.

The nurse makes me step on the scale and takes my weight.

Eighty-one pounds.

“Okay, you can use the bathroom now.”

“Thank you so much, your Majesty,” I say in a snooty-sarcastic tone. I instantly feel guilty for being rude, but I’m tired of being treated like some psychotic patient who has to be monitored every hour. I can’t even take hot showers since they cause you to lose weight, which makes no sense to me, but doctors' orders. The nurses and psychologists were making me out to be part of an intervention project. I’m no different than people who were prescribed drugs and got addicted. I didn’t plan to get this way; I simply wanted to lose weight, so I cut out all processed meats, bread, white rice, sugar, and anything that came in a package or can. My diet consisted of cottage cheese and apple sauce for breakfast, grapes and a salad for lunch, and for dinner, usually, a hot dog with broccoli or a type of protein with some kind of vegetable, and popcorn was the only snack I could have before bed. And I did it all over again.

It was six months before my mom noticed I looked like a skeleton, not that I was trying to; I didn’t even notice I looked this skinny. Not until a friend at school mentioned it to me and one of the teachers said something to me, full of concern. My mom or dad didn’t say one word to me about my weight, not until now, of course. I wouldn't consider losing weight if it weren’t for my dad.

Months ago, when I cut up a banana and put a spoonful of ice cream on it, he asked if I should eat it. You better start watching what you eat at night, or else you’ll have more complexes than you already have about your looks . His words rang in my ears like a vibrating drum. I told my mom about it, but she said I was overreacting.

Her response didn’t surprise me since I was invisible to my parents, so losing weight wouldn’t make much of a difference. I might as well be considered dead.

I plop back on the bed, grateful I don't have an IV stuffed down my nose anymore. They had to feed me Ensure, a nutritional protein drink, as soon as I arrived. I was so malnourished I had to be fed slowly, non-stop, over twenty-four hours, for four days.

Five days ago, when my mom brought me in, she tricked me. I’m not going to lie; I put up a fight when she tried to get me to go inside the hospital. I was so scared when I realized what was happening. Terrified really, I didn't mean to lose this much weight, but I got used to the routine and liked it. I liked the control I had over my life since I never had any. I told the doctors I took it too far, and I'm ready to gain weight, but truth be told, I just wanted to get out of here, and I am willing to say or do anything if it gets me out of this glorified prison.

“I brought a chocolate muffin,” my mom says as she opens the door just as the nurse is about to leave. “Oh, ma’am, she needs more nutrition than that.”

“Isn’t that what I'm paying you guys for? I thought you were giving her that protein drink.” She waves a hand in the air and holds up the muffin. “This is just for gaining weight. I mean, who doesn’t like chocolate muffins?” my mom says with a smile.

“Yes, but she’s not eating the food we bring her.” The nurse explains.

My mom looks over at me. “Really Abigail? I mean your father and I are paying a fortune for you to be here? You need to eat whatever they give you. Obviously, you don’t care about taste because I know cottage cheese and applesauce wasn’t that damn tasty.”

Her tone is cold and sharp. Piercing through my skin like daggers. I don’t say anything. I sit silently and let my stomach eat my insides, a feeling I’ve gotten too used to.

“She mentioned how a pizza sounded good.” the nurse said with a chipper tone.

“Ya, like that is any healthier.” My mom sneers.

“Ma’am,” the nurse moves closer, “food is a very delicate matter. I would encourage you to be more understanding regarding her eating habits. This is serious, not just some cry out for attention. This is a disorder .”

The nurse speaks in a whisper, but I can still hear her. My mom nods in agreement and then looks over at me.

Sighing she asks,“What kind of pizza do you want, Abigail?”

“Philly cheesesteak,” I respond quickly. If I'm going to gain weight, I might as well eat something worth the calories.

“Well, in the meantime, you can have this for dessert.” She places the muffin down on my table. “I’ll call the pizza in now so it will be ready.” My mom dials a number, puts the phone to her ear, and walks out the door.

“I’ll be back to check on you briefly, sweetie.” The nurse says with a warm smile. Sadly, I get more sympathy from a stranger than my mother.

Once again, I'm alone with my thoughts and the television. So I grab my phone and put on headphones to listen to music as I scroll through social media.

After about ten minutes of scrolling, the door opens again, and I’m shocked that my mom is back that quickly, but when I look up, it’s not my mom, It’s a male nurse rolling in a boy on a hospital bed who looks my age. And rather familiar. The longer I stare at him, it dawns on me. He’s the long-haired, rock star-looking kid from my English. He goofed off in English a lot so I knew reading wasn’t his strong point.

“Alright, Blake. This will be your home for the next few days or until your parents come and get you.”

He scoffs up a laugh. “Let’s see, mom is dead, and by the time you get a hold of my dad, I'm sure my brother will have already found out I’m here and come get me. By then, my ass will be wishing I was dead.”

“Until your brother kills you, at least you’ll have someone to keep you company. Blame, meet Abigail, Abigail, meet Blake.”

The male nurse mumbles, “ Good luck,” as he walks past me. I can’t help but laugh.

“Hey, aren’t you that skinny chic that goes to my school?”

I blink rapidly, surprised that anyone even knows me, let alone recognizes me.

“Ya, you’re her. Everyone has been talking about you. There’s a bet going on that you’re either a cokehead or anorexic. My guess was on anorexia; you don’t seem the type to sniff something up your nose or inject needles in your veins. Plus, your teeth aren’t messed up, and you seem on top of your shit in class, and druggies are way too relaxed to care about turning in their homework on time. And you always seem on edge; look at you right now.”

My shoulders slump, and I am forcing myself to relax, but at the same time, who the hell does he think he is?

“Excuse me, but how do you know me again?”

“Does anyone know anyone in high school?”

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to answer that. Luckily I didn’t have to because he rambled on some more.

“I’ve seen you around, and like I said, people think you’ve lost a lot of weight because you’re a druggie, but I call bullshit. Am I right? Or am I right?”

He stares at me with a wide, satisfied grin. I look away, not saying a word.

“You can tell me. I’m not judging, hello.”

I look back over at him, and he's waving his hand in the air. “I’m in no position to fucking judge.”

I bite my lip so I don’t laugh. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction after his rude comment.

“Look, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be mean. It’s just that I thought you knew people were talking. I mean, how can you not?”

I dip my chin, narrowing my gaze on him.

“And what does that mean?”

“Uh, you lost a shit-ton of weight real fast. And if I wasn’t semi-psychic, then I wouldn't know you didn’t lose weight from drugs. Plus, it’s high school. The one place everyone is famous somehow, even if you never asked for it. So congratulations.”

I huff out a laugh. “Let me guess, you're a Gemini? No,” I tap my finger on my chin. “Leo. No, Wait, you’re not that good-looking.” I lied. Blake was very good-looking, in a rockstar kind-of way. I hear him mutter, what the fuck , under his breath, but I ignore his comment.

“Today’s my birthday so whatever the fuck zodiac sign that falls under, that is what I am.”.

“It’s your birthday?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Ya, happy fucking birthday to me,” he says bitterly.

“It’s my birthday too.”

“No shit?”

“Yup, eleven, eleven. Wish time”

“That’s wish time?” He says, wrinkling his nose at me.

“Duh. 11:11 signifies the time when an angel is near you and trying to communicate with you. Some numerologists believe that November 11 is the luckiest day of the year because of its full potential for wish granting.”

“That’s a crock of shit because we both are in the hospital hooked up to machines.”

I ignore his skepticism. “It could be worse. We could be dead instead.” I say.

“Death doesn’t scare me like most. It seems easy compared to this life shit.” He says as if referencing death is an everyday thing for him.

“Anyway, I should have known you were a Scorpio. We are sensitive souls, but not as much as Pisces.”

“What makes you think I'm so sensitive? And what are you? The zodiac expert?”

I shrug my shoulders and tip my head to the side briefly. “Kind of. And with that hair, that attitude, and that physique,” I motion up and down, “You’re a bundle of emotions.”

He scrunches his face in disgust.

“Whatever you say, and if I’m so emotional, then I have good intuition, which means I am right. You’re in here because you have an eating disorder.” He says, switching the subject.

I let out a deep sigh. “Ya, you’re right, happy now?” I say quickly.

“I know my drug addicts.” He says, plopping his head back on his pillow and placing his hands behind his head.

“Scorpios are pretty intuitive, but you don’t strike me as one. You seem more like a cusp baby, like a Gemini-Pisces.”

“A what baby?” He lifts his head slightly to look at me, raising his left eyebrow. I can’t help but laugh. “A cusp baby, anyone born between the nineteenth through the twenty-fourth of any month is considered a cusp baby.”

“How do you know so much about this shit? Are you a witch or something?”

I shake my head. “It’s the study of Astrology, numb nuts.”

His lips pierce into a thin line.

“I’m just kidding. Unless your nuts are numb.” I say with a slight chuckle.

“Sweetheart, when you do as much drugs as I do, it’s pretty common for my dick not to work when I want it to.”

His comment almost slices me in half. “T-M-I,” I say, looking away but then back at him.

“Is that why you are here, drugs?” My voice softens.

“Ya, I was prescribed pain meds when I had jaw surgery, not once but twice. Hurts like a motherfucker.” Once he says that, I notice how square his jaw is and remember how perfect his teeth looked even from here. “And I don’t know, it’s like, I never knew what I was missing before drugs. It helped ease the pain in more ways than one, and I just got addicted. Addicted to that feeling, that rush. The high. Chasing it over and over.”

“Well, it doesn’t help when you are fascinated by forms of escape that make you susceptible to addictions.”

“How do you know?” He says defensively.

“It takes one to know one, and you’re a Scorpio retreating to a safe haven, which is normal since we don’t like dealing with aspects of daily life.”

“Sounds like most people in general.” He mutters.

I lower my gaze on him, and he stops talking so I can finish. “Television, movies, music, and books are healthy habits for us, but addiction to drugs, alcohol, sex, or violence is always a real possibility, too. But mix that with being secretive and controlling, then you have a ball of depressive, worrying escapist running around.”

“I think you need to stop reading that crap. It’s not helping you.” Blake says with a stoic expression on his face.

“We have strengths too.” I continued. “We are steadfast and serious when we need to be. And sexual, which isn’t always a bad thing because it makes us seductive and affectionate, which also makes us great lovers. And I’ve learned with all the zodiac signs, finding a balance between the good and bad is key, no matter what sign you are.”

“Seductive, huh?” He smirks, waggling his eyebrows at me.

I shake my head as I roll my eyes. “That would be all you got out of what I said.”

“No, that makes sense. My last girlfriend was a Scorpio.”

“What? You dated?” My voice rises up an octave as the words spill out of my mouth.

“Ya, I'm sixteen.”

“Still, how do you get your parents to agree to that?”

“They don’t give a shit, and my brother just got a new girlfriend who has the biggest tits I’ve ever seen, so he’s got his hands full.” He moves his hips up and down, imitating sex movements, and my eyes widen at the sight.

“And he’s in college, about to go pro, so I don’t have much supervision at home, which is fine with me.”

I stare at him, still trying to process his parents’ decision to let him date. When the word pro defers my thoughts in another direction, I ask, “Pro what? Douchebag.”

Blake smiles, a ghost of one, but it’s there.

“No football. You haven’t heard of Colt Killian?”

“I hate football. It’s not my thing. So no, never heard of the guy.”

“Everyone here worships football, especially in this state. How have you survived high school not attending any football games?”

“By staying away from people.”

He laughs, a real laugh this time. “That may not be such a bad idea.” He stares into space briefly before saying, “Anyway, he’s pretty much the icon for OU state.”

“Good for him,” I say as I count the calories I’ve had for the day in my head.

“Back to the girl I dated, who was a Scorpio. She was a freak in the sheets. I mean, like freaky-freaky, And she once told me Scorpio’s power spot was their pussy or some shit like that. She was into yoga and astrology but nothing like you.”

I try not to show my shock at how we are the same age and go to the same school, but he’s already had sex. I haven’t even kissed a boy.

“Are all Scorpios sexual like that?” He flashes me a wink and then gives me a once-over.

“Of course, that’s all you could remember about your ex-girlfriend,” I say, turning my attention back to the television on the wall and mindlessly watching it.

“Hey, remembering is remembering.’ He says.

“I suppose,” I murmur.

“Oh, I got an idea. If we ever get out of this place, that is.”

“What?” I flicked my gaze to meet his.

“Next year, if we are both alive, we should make a wish at 11:11.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. After you told me it’s the best time to make a wish, I might increase my chances of getting a new family—maybe a whole new life if I’m lucky.”

The door opens, and it’s my mom who comes barging in this time. “Okay, I got you a medium-sized pizza. They got it wrong the first time.” She places the pizza on the table across from me, muttering, “Idiots.” Then, she sets her purse on the chair beside it. “So I had to wait an extra ten minutes.” She turns back around and stops mid-sentence when she notices Blake.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had company in the room now, Abigail. They better cut the price in half for that.”

Blake looks at me, and I know what he is thinking . Is that your mom? If so, how could she be talking about money at a time like this?

That is my mom, alright, and she could talk about it because she loved her precious green paper. Actually, no, she loved not doing a damn thing and being lazy, living off her husband, who cheats on her left and right. I love my mom to death, but I couldn't stand how all the women in our family were so lazy, and they would rather settle for a man who took care of them financially and sacrificed their mental health and freedom so that they didn’t have to go to work.

She clears her throat, catching the sour expression on Blake’s face. “I would have brought more, but-”

“No worries, Ma’am, I just got my stomach pumped. It was full of drugs. Food is the last thing on my mind.”

My mom blinked at Blake, and I shut my eyes tight before opening them again.

“Okay. Abigail, let me get you a slice.” She walks over to the pizza box, takes a slice, and places it on a paper towel. Handing it to me, I take the pizza and look down at it. For the first time, I’m not so scared to eat some cheesy bread that’s staring right back at me.