Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
SIMONA
T he doctors confirm Lydia’s hairline fracture will be straightforward and heal within a few weeks. I am relieved but still feel so freaking awful and full of the guilts. If I wasn’t running from Ryder, it wouldn’t have happened, and we wouldn’t be sitting in the emergency room.
Even when Lydia waves around her plaster cast, telling me she’s already forgiven me, I can’t stay entirely focused which adds to how crappy and guilty I feel. No matter how hard I try to give her my full attention, my gaze continually floats back to where he sits in the corridor.
“I should be thanking you.” Lydia giggles like she’s tipsy. She’s not, she is however off her head on painkillers. “Now I’ve got the best reason for not getting up on stage!” She waves her hand around dangerously.
If I wasn’t so completely thrown by being in the same room as Ryder, or if I had left the auditorium with everyone else, she wouldn’t be off her tits on drugs in the hospital, and I wouldn’t be apologising over and over.
After spending the morning deciding to cool things with Ryder and Hendrix, I was in an okay headspace. I wasn’t thrilled with my decision, but once I’d made up my mind, the guilt that has been a constant companion since meeting them both, pretty much disappeared.
I don’t feel regret for the time we got but knowing I was leading them both on, in a situation that has a termination date, weighs heavily on my soul. Who does that? Who uses someone for their own selfish reasons? Me, it seems, but that’s not the type of person I ever want to be.
Walking into the auditorium it appeared the universe thought differently. Call it fate or destiny, whatever it was, Ryder and I were in the same place at the same time, and that rattled me to my core.
He didn’t recognise me, not that I’m surprised. I’ve given him very little in our chat in terms of identifiable features. Regardless, it stings he doesn’t remember me from New Year’s Eve.
Ryder using a different name—Ben Franklin—well, I couldn’t begrudge him doing that either.
So, while he was seemingly unaffected by me, I was struggling in his general proximity.
Turning my attention back to Lydia, she’s talking about nothing but also yawning every few seconds. With one final apology, I leave her to rest and walk to where the Omega Mothers, plus Ryder, are waiting.
Between one step and the next, an ear-piercing alarm blasts through the PA system. Behind us doors lock, standard hospital procedure, in case of an Alpha with ADV rampaging.
“Quick, down here.” A nurse appears down the end of the corridor.
There’s no time for questions, as everyone moves instinctively, following the safety procedures posted throughout the hospital. St. Gabriel’s is the leading care facility for Alphas battling the disease. Many doctors specialising in the field have offices here, and everyone who walks through the doors knows that—and what to do in case of an emergency.
As a group, we push through the doors, where a nurse waves us into another corridor that leads deeper into the hospital. There are people everywhere. It looks and feels a lot like chaos—staff shouting instructions and gesturing urgently to direct people into rooms. It’s efficient but adds to the swirling panic sweeping through everyone nearby.
A small but determined group of people surge out of another room, racing from something, tearing me away from Ryder and the other staff from Rejoice. No matter what I do, I can’t fight against the rush to get back to them. A hand latches around my wrist, and I scream as my panic shifts into terror. The more I fight, the more painful the grip, and I get dragged away from them and pulled into a room.
Before I can spin around, the door locks itself. I vaguely hear pounding on the door and my name being shouted, but my shock and fear pounds so loud it drowns everything else out as I come face to face with Brody.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He snarls; his face is so close to mine I can see in his eyes how surprised he is. But his pupils are too dilated to be from adrenaline alone. Something else is up.
I make myself as small as possible in his presence. My gaze drops to his hands, and I see a strange pattern of small faint lines marking them. Brody smells like he is on the edge of a meltdown; he’s skittish and his usual scent is unable to mask the unmistakable bitterness of medication.
“How about some answers, Simona? What are you up to?” he demands. His presence bears down on me like hail in a storm and I cower further, but he grabs me by the throat and in a few rushed steps, has me pinned against the wall.
“Are you fucking following me? What the hell is wrong with you?” he hisses furiously .
Digging my fingers into his hand, I manage to loosen his grip to answer him, and to get a gulp of air. “I’m here for school.”
“That’s weird, Unity is hours from here. Lying has never been your strong point, Simmy, on top of all your other failings. You are just an awful fucking human being,” he croons viciously, imposing even more of his dominance as he crowds in. “Tell me why you are here? Are you stupidly trying to blackmail me or something?”
I shake my head, and it’s not because I don’t want to answer him, it’s because I can’t get a word past his grip around my throat. Without looking, I know he wants to see my eyes, probably to get off on the fear in them, but I manage to keep from looking at him. Using my nails, I claw at his hand, and he mocks my feeble attempt, laughing and squeezing harder.
Black dots appear. They don’t drift in, they strobe like a light in warning, matching the frantic beat of my heart as I fight against him.
I don’t want to die like this but the crush of my lungs, and the growing shadow in my vision, makes me think I might.
I wish I could say it is exactly like people describe in books or near-death experiences, but my life doesn’t flash in front of my eyes—just raw, paralysing panic. I kick out, desperate to break free, and his grip loosens enough for me to suck in a whole lungful of air. But he doesn’t drop his hand. And in then, I’m reminded—once again—how much he enjoys the torment.
As soon as I can, I start pleading. “Brody, you’re scaring me. I told you the truth, I’m here with Unity. One of the girls broke her arm.”
He tightens his grip, not squeezing this time but knocking the back of my head against the wall. Not hard but it still hurts .
“Lies. Everything about you makes me sick. You think you’re better than me, playing games. For fuck’s sake,” he hisses, “Unity is hours away. And you look fucking guilty.”
“Stop, Brody. I can take you to the Omega Mothers. They will tell you the truth.”
He laughs and I risk a glance up at him. His hateful glare cuts right through me. I react without thought. Carelessly. Stupidly. Desperately. The swing of my fist catches him by surprise, and it hits against his temple. The impact breaks us apart, but I only get barely a second’s reprieve before he attacks with renewed savagery.
He hits my side, and I drop to the ground. There’s noise everywhere, some of it is mine, a lot of it comes from Brody, and it adds to the feeling I’m being crushed.
Perhaps I lose track of time as I try to protect myself by hiding deep within my psyche. I don’t remember moving, but in the next breath he’s in my ear. “I forbid you. I forbid you. I forbid you.”
Those goddamn words hit like a curse, burrowing into my subconscious. Digging deeper than ever before and stealing my submission once more. Any fight I have left burns out, and once again Brody wins. The way he makes me feel so pathetically weak hurts more than his physical blows.
I hide in a part of my mind where Brody has never existed. It helps and lets me regain control of my fear. This isn’t the worst thing Brody has done, and if I can just make it until his anger burns out, I know I’ll be safe.
There are things happening around me, I’m not completely aware of and in truth I tune out completely, trying to survive. I’m doing okay until my mind plays the cruellest trick of all, making me believe I’m in a room full of honey. The scent is so visceral, my mind is full of images of sunlight catching on a stream of thick golden honey dripping straight from a hive. The imagery is so vivid and distracting, I can literally reach out and touch the trees and smell the fresh open air. I curl into a ball, succumbing to the comfort I find in my honey-dipped oasis.
If this is where and how I die, then I allow myself the endless comfort that comes with imagining I am being surrounded by Ryder. If I get this one idyllic and peaceful delusion, and it follows me into the afterlife, then I die happy. Well, happier.