Chapter 7 #3
I look up to see Damien rush into the room, and after a brief glance at Zeke, his eyes find mine.
My heart flips and twists, both swelling and constricting at the same time, and I immediately start to cry again.
The relief that floods my soul almost makes me feel woozy, like I’ll pass out and spend eternity surrounded by nothing but him.
He somehow makes it across the room in two long strides and then scoops me up in his arms. His hold is so tight that I can feel myself bouncing with sobs against his strong torso.
He doesn’t bother to try and make me stand or sit beside me where there could possibly be an inch of space between us.
Instead, he pulls me down onto his lap, right there on the floor, and lets me curl up into a ball against him.
One large arm wraps around me, supporting me so I don’t have to put any effort in, and the other cradles the back of my head, gripping me so tightly that there’s no way for the darkness to reach me.
“Oh, baby…” he says quietly as I bury my face into his neck, letting my tears fall and run along his throat.
He begins running his hand over my head before he plants a kiss on it, rocking me back and forth like he’s trying to console a small child.
The motion doesn’t feel condescending or juvenile, though.
It’s everything I need right now, like he’s somehow keeping all of my little pieces together. “I'm so sorry. It’s going to be okay.”
“I never should have let him leave the Attic…” I sputter through strained words, and his hold tightens just a little more.
He hushes me softly, creating a soothing sound that I can feel in my bones.
His face pulls back only slightly, just enough to pepper soft kisses just under my eyes and down my cheeks, seemingly kissing all of the tears away.
My body finally starts to feel warm again, and his heart pounds against his chest in a perfect rhythm that I can easily follow.
“This is not your fault, Ashia. Do not do that to yourself.” He pulls away and wipes the remaining tears from my face.
His forehead shifts downward to rest on mine, and he takes a deep breath, coaching me like he always has when I’m too upset.
“Try to stay calm, baby girl. What have they said so far?”
I nod and take a deep breath as I let his soothing circles on my back calm me even further.
“They said he’ll be okay, and that he should wake up soon, but they’re talking about keeping him for at least seventy-two hours.
” I can feel my face and chest heat up as the anger regarding the psychologist’s demands resurfaces.
“It’s bullshit. This place is packed, and they won’t even have a bed possibly opening in the mental-health ward for two days.
So, they’re apparently just going to keep him in a room like this until then?
Like, what the fuck?! They're just going to keep him restrained for two days?!” I get loud unwillingly, and hot tears start running down my face again despite almost stopping.
Angry-crying is seemingly another wonderful symptom from this pregnancy, but at least this seems like an appropriate moment for it.
Damien runs his thumb across my lip, and I’m certain it’s covered in drool, snot, and only God knows what else.
He does it in a slow, calming motion as he takes another deep breath, forcing me to do the same, but I can see the hardness return to his eyes—the one that silently tells me he’s about to do whatever it takes to get what we need.
“The fuck they are. He’s coming home with us.
I'll handle it.” He lifts me easily and sets me down on the chair, wasting no time to kiss my cheek before standing and walking out—heading in the direction as the front desk.
“Excuse me? I need to speak to your head of Psychiatry…” His voice trails off as he walks down the hall, and those forceful steps retreat with him.
My gaze stays locked on the doorway, waiting for the moment he storms back and tells me that we’re going to take Zeke home.
I also want him to promise that we can help him the way he needs without making him feel like a caged bear, but I’m not so sure he can guarantee that.
Can we give him what he needs? Do we have the resources to take care of him?
A hundred other questions fly through my head, but as I take another harsh, deep breath, determination floods my system.
Whatever he needs, we’ll handle it.
“Ash?”
I snap my head and look over to see Zeke’s now cloudy, green eyes staring back at me.
He’s clearly still waking up, and his gaze looks unfocused, but at least his sights are locked on me.
I quickly wipe my eyes, trying to hide the obvious tear stains.
I’m sure my entire face, neck, and chest are still blotchy and red, but I’m hoping he won’t immediately notice.
After I try to compose myself, I stand up as steadily as I can and grab his hand, squeezing it tightly to warm his cold fingers.
“Hey…” I speak softly, not wanting to overwhelm him. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, but then they reopen, and he looks at me with so much remorse and self-deprecation that he might as well have stabbed me in the chest.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t think that you would find me…”
I have to turn my head away and blink rapidly to shove the tears deep down. There are probably a thousand things I should say right now, but my mind is only conjuring up the ones I probably shouldn’t. I need to choose my words very carefully, knowing what a fragile mental state he’s in right now.
“What were you thinking, Zeke? Wh…” I swallow harshly and look at the lights, taking another small breath to keep myself composed. “You could’ve come to me. To any of us. We would’ve helped you through this…”
He squeezes my hand and nods slowly, looking more exhausted by the second.
“It just hurts so much… I wasn’t thinking.
I just wanted it to end… I needed it to stop.
” His voice is weak, like in his mind, he’s already gone.
There’s not much of a sign that he has any desire to live anymore, but I’m taking his grip on my hand as one.
It’s harsh and unwavering, even as his eyes show his exhaustion.
I have to see it that way, because the alternative is that my brother withers way from the inside.
Even if he can’t see his weapons right now, I’ll be one for him.
“I know…” A tear finally escapes, and I use my hand to wipe it away before laying it on top of our conjoined grips.
“Did…” he starts, but then pauses to steady his trembling lips. “Did you call my parents?” he asks softly, like he’s truly terrified of the answer. And honestly? I’m afraid of how he’ll feel about my response.
“No, we… We didn’t yet. I wasn’t sure how, or…”
He interrupts me by shaking his head, releasing a quivering, relieved breath.
“Please, don’t tell them…”
“Zeke, you need them right now.”
He cuts me off again by nodding, and opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before speaking again.
“I know I do, but please, I can’t see the look on my mom’s face if she finds out. Please, Ash…” His grip on my hand tightens, and his strength is one of desperation—a plea that slithers its way into my soul. His tone is tortured, and each hit of shakiness only emphasizes his agony.
“Okay, okay. We won’t… We won’t call them.
Just…please don’t give us another reason to…
” He nods again and tries to sit up, finally noticing the cuffs around his wrists.
He yanks on them a few times, like he’s testing their hold, and then he lays back on the bed, looking more defeated than I’ve ever seen him.
“We’re going to help you, okay? I promise. Everything is going to be alright.”
“They’re never going to let me out of here,” he whispers with dread laced in his voice.
While that causes more tears to prickle behind my eyes, it’s also a good sign.
If he didn’t care if he lived or died, it wouldn’t matter where he was, right?
So, I’m going to take his reluctance to stay here as another sliver of hope
“Yes, they are—” I'm interrupted by Damien’s boisterous voice booming from down the hall.
“I don’t give a fuck about protocol! I'm telling you…” The rest is drowned out by more noise from the halls, but something about his words and authoritative voice is comforting—relieving.
Knowing that he’s just as serious about Zeke’s mental state as I am is uplifting, and I stand a little straighter, knowing that I can give Zeke some real answers.
“See? Damien’s taking care of it. You're coming home with us.” I squeeze his hand again and he relaxes some, seemingly reassured. My hands tighten on his, and I make sure to grip him so harshly that he knows he’ll never be alone again. Not while we’re alive, anyway.