Unholy

Chapter 11

Tristan

I groan as I turn my head to see my mom sitting in the chair next to me. Fuck, I’m still alive. That wasn’t exactly the plan. The plan was to make the Little Nun of mine feel something she’d never felt before. Fear of loss. Fear of losing me. Not that I belong to her to lose, but the thought of her crying for me does something to my insides. I guess that shit backfired on me, though, since I’m still here, and she isn’t.

“Mom?”

“Tristan. Oh, you’re awake,” she cries while tears stream down her face.

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. You’re hurt. You had surgery. What happened?”

“I don’t know. I just lost control of the car,” I lie to her. I’m not going to tell her I slammed into the fucking pole to get Ash’s attention. Not a chance in hell.

“I’m so glad you’re awake. You didn’t damage anything major, but they did have to do surgery to repair some things. You’re lucky, Tristan.” I nod my head as I look at her still in her wedding dress and know that I fucked up her day. That wasn’t the plan. This was all for Ash, and that was a complete fuck up.

“Go home.”

“What? No.”

“Yeah. It’s your wedding day. Go on your honeymoon. I’m fine.”

“No, Tristan.”

“I said to go!” I yell this time, shocking her, but I don’t know why. She knows this about me. I’m a bastard. A monster.

“Fine. Your therapist will be in to see you tomorrow.” I nod my head and watch her stand and leave. It doesn’t take long before Andy and Rod show up to see me.

“Glad you’re not dead.”

“I’m not.”

“What the hell, man?” Rod asks.

“This life sucks,” I laugh a little. They both shake their heads and smile, knowing me better than most people do.

“Just glad you’re okay. Doc said we can’t stay we could only drop in,” Andy tells me.

“Fuck that doctor.”

“You look like shit, so that’s good news,” Rod tells me with a laugh. They both turn to leave when Andy steps back.

“Your stepsister has been pacing all night. You want her in here?”

“No.”

“Okay. Get some rest. We’ll check on you tomorrow.” I nod and salute the two of them when they walk out. Seconds later, she was in my room after I said no.

“I don’t want you here,” I tell her.

“Are you insane? No. Don’t answer that. You are insane, Tristan! What were you thinking? Why would you do that?”

“You don’t know what I did,” I tell her. Seeing her still wearing the bloody dress does something to me. I want her. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life, but I’ll bring her even more hurt than I see on her face right now, and maybe that’s the sick part of me. Maybe that’s what the darkest part of me wants. Her hurt. Her pain.

“You slammed into a pole!”

“Get out.”

“No. A pole, Tristan,” she snaps at me.

“I said get out.”

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“You said you didn’t want me, Ash. Get the fuck out!” I roar this time. She crosses her arms over her chest and stomps over, sitting in the chair next to the bed. If I could get up, I would probably snap her pretty little neck right now or sink my teeth into her soft flesh.

“They think you did this on purpose.”

“And if I did?”

“Why would you? Did you want to die? Is that it?”

“What difference does it make to you?”

“Tristan, come on. Don’t be like that.”

“Like what? Telling you the truth? You want the truth? Yeah, I slammed that car into the pole on purpose. Now get out!” Just as the words come out of my mouth, the fucking doc walks in.

“Suicide attempt, Tristan?” Fuck me.

“Doc, you came.”

“They called and told me what happened. You know what that means?” he says.

“What does it mean?” Ash asks before I can respond.

“It means, fuck you, Ash.”

“It means he stays on a seventy-two hour hold until we know he isn’t a danger to himself anymore.”

“What?” Ash asks.

“What happened to patient-doctor confidentiality?” I ask him.

“This her?” Doc asks me, and I nod.

“I’m Arnold, his Doctor. I have been his doctor since he was three,” he tells her. She looks at me and back to him before finally shaking his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr.”

“Arnold is fine. You’re going to have to leave so we can get his treatment started.”

“What treatment?”

“I have to be med-compliant in order to get out after seventy-two hours,” I inform her.

“Medication? You don’t take any.” She adds as if she already knows all about me. That’s so fucking cute it makes me want to throw up.

“Just get out, Ash. This isn’t your problem.”

“You made it my problem, Tristan.”

“No. You’re making it your problem. I said what I needed to say to you. What fucking part of leave don’t you get?” I turn my head so she can see the look on my face and it isn’t a nice one.

“Fine. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“If I make it home,” I tell her.

“Don’t say that.”

“I just did. Bye, Ash.” I turn away from her, needing her out of my fucking face before I do something else stupid for her. Just for her to fucking see me? What kind of fuck up am I?

Doc leads her out, but I can still hear them in the hallway. He’s just giving her a breakdown of what’s going to happen and when I can go home. He’s not responding to her questions. He can’t. That’s confidential.

When he’s done, he comes back into the room and sits in the chair that Ash was in.

“She seems nice.”

I snort a laugh. “Yeah. Nice.”

“What do you see in her, Tristan?”

“What’s the difference?”

“She said she didn’t want you, right? Is that what this is about? We’ve talked about rejection, haven’t we?”

“Yeah, Doc, we have.”

“Then what is it with her?” he pushes, trying to pry into my fucked up mind.

“You know what? I felt numb. Felt nothing. So I slammed into that fucking pole so I’d feel something, and I did,” I chuckle.

“Take the medicine, Tristan.”

“You don’t even know what the fuck you’re treating me for!” I remind him.

“It doesn’t matter at this point. I think they’ll help,” he tells me.

“Like the last ones? When I was a fucking zombie? That’s what you want for me?”

“I want you stable, Tristan. I don’t want you out there slamming into poles to feel something.”

“You know when I felt something? When she was in my shower.”

“You didn’t sleep with her, did you?” I shake my head.

“No.”

“You need to step back and stay away from her, Tristan. This isn’t healthy.”

“Hey, Doc? Fuck off, man. I don’t need you telling me shit I already know. Lock me the fuck up on the fifth floor, and let’s get this over with.” I ignore the rest of the shit that leaves his mouth because, frankly, Fuck him.

After the other Doc gives his approval, I’m moved to the psych ward. It’s not like I haven’t been here more than once. I’m put into a room, and my fucking arms and legs are strapped down so I can’t try and kill myself again. My stomach hurts where they performed the surgery, but I welcome the fucking pain.

I close my eyes and try to keep from thinking about the girl. Thinking about the way she looked at me and how she yelled at me. I can’t be with her. The Doc is right. This is going to kill me, and while I’m not opposed to going straight to hell, I know my mom would lose it. Not that it should bother me. I’ve never cared much before, but I do love my mom.

I tip my head back and try to sleep, but hearing people screaming and groaning all fucking night does little more than drive me a little further into my head. If they think for one fucking second keeping me locked up in this hell hole is helping me, they’re dead wrong. All it’s doing is making me feel worse.