EIGHTEEN
I n the dead of night, Poison’s fist pounded against Nina’s front door, the echoes reverberating through the silent neighborhood like a desperate plea. She knew it was very late, even intrusive, to bother Nina at such an hour, but the ache in her soul drove her to seek comfort in the only home she knew.
After an agonizing moment, a faint glow seeped through the curtains, and someone moved inside. Poison waited, her heart pounding and the voices getting louder with every heartbeat. Then, as if responding to her silent plea, the door swung open, revealing Nina’s sleep-dazed form framed in the doorway. Her nightgown hung loosely around her, her eyes heavy with sleep.
Without a word, Nina’s arms wrapped around her, drawing her into a tight hug. Poison felt a rush of relief flood through her, mingled with guilt for waking Nina from her sleep. But when Nina caught sight of her tear-streaked face, all traces of sleep vanished, replaced by a fierce worry.
They stepped into Nina’s home, and Poison caught a glimpse of Nick hovering protectively behind her. With a soft click, the door closed behind them.
Nina led her to the lounge, their steps echoing through the dark house as she guided her to the couch and helped her sit between all the scatter cushions.
Nina settled beside her, their bodies pressed close together as she hugged her to her side.
As Poison leaned into Nina’s comforting, a wave of nausea surged through her, twisting her stomach into agonizing knots. She struggled to maintain her composure, but beneath the surface, a storm of panic raged, threatening to engulf her in its relentless grip—the voices drowning her in a pit so deep, so dark she saw no end to it.
With each passing moment, the suffocating weight pressing down on her chest grew more unbearable, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she fought to contain the rising tide of panic. The warmth of Nina’s embrace offered little comfort against the churning storm brewing within her, each heartbeat echoing like a thunderous war drum in her ears.
A sharp pang of pain shot through Poison’s gut, sending her reeling as she clutched her stomach in agony. Without a word, she tore herself from Nina’s arms and staggered toward the bathroom, her footsteps faltering with each step.
As she reached the bathroom, she collapsed to her knees before the toilet bowl, her body wracked with violent tremors as waves of nausea washed over her. With trembling hands, she clung to the edge of the toilet, her breaths coming in short gasps as she fought to keep the roiling contents of her stomach at bay.
In the dim light of the bathroom, her pallid face was drawn with anguish, her eyes wide with fear as she struggled to stop the deafening hurricane raging within her. Each retch sent searing pain coursing through her body, yet still, she clung to the fragile hope that relief would soon come, that the relentless tide of nausea would subside and grant her a break from the merciless torment.
Just as she felt she couldn’t bear it any longer, the bathroom door creaked open, and Nick stepped inside. Without a word, he knelt beside her, gently gathering her hair in his hands and holding it back as she continued to heave.
“Just breathe, P,” Nick whispered, rubbing her back until the retching eased.
When she was sure she wouldn’t vomit again, she sunk to the floor. With her back against the cool tiles, she hugged her knees to her chest, resting her head on them. All she could do was concentrate on her breathing.
She was faintly aware of water running, and a moment later, Nick placed a cold cloth on her neck before he sat down on the tiles next to her.
“P,” Nick started, then hesitated. “When did your panic attacks start again?”
Looking up, she gave him a faint smile—embarrassment seeping through the broken parts of her heart.
“In the hospital the other night,” she answered, dropping her head back on her knees.
“It’s not my business, but you need to talk. If not, I can refer you to someone who can help.”
She lifted her head just enough to raise her eyebrows at him.
“I know you don’t want to hear it, and I know telling you to see someone is as good as trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, but you need to.”
Poison sat back, leaning her head against the tiles with her eyes closed—the voices finally quieting.
“I found Rogan,” she whispered and flinched when Nick sucked in a breath next to her. “Well, he found me.”
“Did he challenge you?”
She shook her head.
“I wish he had. That would have been easier to handle.”
Nick placed a hand on her arm, and she tried her best not to recoil from his touch. She wasn’t worthy of the love and support they gave her. She was a monster, and she couldn’t bear the thought of burdening them with her troubles.
She tried to get up, to leave, and never to bother them again. She was toxic and would only taint them with her dark soul. But Nick held her tight, not allowing her to run away.
As she gazed up at him, his expression softened, understanding flickering in his eyes.
“You’re not a monster, Poison,” he said, his voice gentle, as if he could read her mind. “You’re human, just like the rest of us. And humans need help sometimes.”
His words struck a chord within her, stirring a mixture of gratitude and guilt. She wanted to believe him, to let his reassurance wash away her doubts, but the weight of her past sins anchored her to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m sorry for everything.”
His hand tightened on her arm, offering silent support. “We all have our demons,” he replied softly. “But you don’t have to face them alone. Let’s get you cleaned up,” he offered, standing before pulling her to her feet.
Later, Poison sat cross-legged on the couch with a cup of coffee in hand, telling Nina and Nick everything that had happened. She left everything bare, telling them about Scorpion, Reaper, the Don, and Tidal.
Shame crashed into her, but neither of them once judged her or ran from the room screaming.
“You should stay the night,” Nina offered, her eyes filled with concern. But Poison shook her head, a sense of urgency gnawing at her insides.
“Coming here has already put you guys in danger. I should leave,” she insisted.
“Nonsense,” Nick countered. “Stay the night. You’re safer here than at your place if Scorpion is coming to look for you again.”
She hesitated, torn between her need to protect them and her exhaustion. “I’ll be out of your hair early. I need to get to work in the morning,” she finally said, trying to sound resolute.
Nick rose from the couch and kissed her on the crown of her head. The gesture, simple yet tender, made her throat tighten. “I’ll let you ladies catch up, but I need to get some sleep before my shift in the morning.”
“I thought you only worked night shifts?” she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice. Nick had always worked nights since they had met.
A flicker of guilt crossed Nick’s eyes, almost too quick to catch. “It’s just a patient I need to follow up on and check their lab results,” he explained, but his tone
lacked its usual confidence.
Poison, too tired to overthink it, grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you for everything, Nick,” she whispered, her gratitude genuine despite her exhaustion.
“Don’t mention it, P.” He squeezed her hand back and walked up the stairs, leaving her with Nina.
Poison watched him go, a knot of unease settling in her stomach. Something was off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She turned back to Nina, who was studying her with concern.
An hour later, Nina and Poison had swapped the coffee Nick had made them for a bottle of red wine and were sitting against the couch, snickering like two teenagers. The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light over them, creating a bubble of intimacy and nostalgia.
“Do you remember how we met?” Poison asked, pouring the last of the wine into Demi’s sippy cups from which they were drinking. Nina had insisted that they use them as to not spill wine all over her champagne carpet.
“How could I not?” she giggled. “There I was, stalking the handsome med student, and you came in with fists flying.”
“In my defense, I had just lost a fight for the first time.” Poison shrugged, memories of that night flooding back. The adrenaline, the anger, the sting of defeat.
“It still wasn’t necessary for you to tell Nick I was faking it,” Nina said, her voice playful.
“Neen,” Poison huffed, rolling her eyes, “every time Nick turned his back, you checked your lipstick and cleavage. A blind man could see you were flirting with him.”
Nina turned a bright shade of crimson. “Hey, it took both Jonathan and Rogan to pin…” She shut her mouth, biting down hard as if to keep the words in. Her gaze dropped to her lap, her fingers fiddling with the sippy cup.
“P, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Poison waved her off, taking a sip of her wine. The memories of Jonathan and Rogan were a double-edged sword, sharp and painful. “It’s okay, Neen. There’s no use avoiding it. Rogan was once like a brother to me, too.”
The memories washed over her, overwhelming her. Jonathan and Rogan teaching her to ride a pink bicycle they’d stolen from someone’s yard, the two of them tossing her book between them, making her chase it. The nights she and Rogan played video games until the early morning hours. Each memory was a punch to the gut, but the one that lingered was Rogan standing over Jonathan’s body, his face a mask of betrayal.
She took a deep, steadying breath. She needed to stay in control, not let the past drown her. But the anger, always simmering beneath the surface, threatened to boil over.
“I always thought you two would end up together,” Nina whispered, giving Poison a sidelong glance over the brim of her sippy cup.
“Who?” Poison raised her eyebrows, caught off guard by the sudden shift.
“You and Rogan,” she said, her tone neutral, almost hesitant. “I always thought he had a thing for you.”
Rage flared up again, hot and scorching. She pushed the thought away, refusing to entertain it. “None of that matters,” she spat. “He killed Jonathan, and soon I’ll send him back to the dark pit of hell he crawled out of.”
The anger in her chest burned hotter. Rogan’s betrayal was a wound that never healed, a constant reminder of the darkness she was fighting against. She clenched her fists, feeling the tension coiling in her muscles.
Nina reached out, placing a hand on her arm. “P, I know you’re hurting, but don’t let it consume you.”
She looked into Nina’s eyes, seeing the concern, the love. She took a deep breath, trying to let the warmth of Nina’s friendship soothe the raw edges of her pain. “I won’t, Neen. But I need to do this. For Jonathan. For myself.”