23. Harley
Chapter twenty-three
Harley
They threw her out like fucking garbage.
I guess to them she was. But to me, she was everything.
She was sunshine and sunflowers, with a smile that was infectious.
She never did anyone any harm; she was nothing but a gentle soul, and life continued to beat on her from the moment she came into this world until now.
But still, she smiled and brought sunshine to everyone who came across her.
She’s my best friend, my sister from another mister.
She was my damn hetero life mate, and those mother fuckers took her from me!
I watch from my position in the chair in the corner of the room as the doctors lift her eyelids.
Her once-vibrant green eyes are bloodshot so deep they almost look black.
The sight makes me flinch, yet I feel nothing.
I’ve done nothing but cry and care for her for two days.
Brain dead. That’s what they labeled her. She will never smile at me again.
I’ve been in this room for two days straight, sitting next to my best friend, cleaning her and taking care of her as she is hooked up to all these machines, with blood leaking from her nose and ears because her skull was bashed in.
That was the part that killed her. She has bruises covering her entire body and defensive marks marring her once-perfect body. They also told me she fought like hell.
A sad smile crosses my face as I think of the hell she must have given back to those sick fucks while fighting for her life.
The doctors exit the room, and I’m alone with her for the first time since we arrived at the hospital.
Well, I’m not entirely alone. I look in the other corner of the room and see the organ donation coordinator at her makeshift desk, getting all the details ready for the recipients of my best friend’s organs.
The bitch was the most selfless woman I have ever met.
Even in her last moments of life, she will be gifting others.
But what about me? What about us? Tears well in my eyes, and I clear my throat, trying to gain my composure.
“Um, excuse me? Do you think you could give us a few minutes alone?” I manage to whisper with a small smile, trying desperately to be kind to the woman who is taking her from me.
But it’s not her fault; she’s just doing her job.
If the kind-eyed woman ever gave me her name, I don’t remember it.
My life has been stuck in a tunnel as my world has quit spinning for the second time this year.
But only this time, Scarlett won’t be there to help me through.
The coordinator smiles back at me and says, “Sure, I’ll step out for you.
” She walks past me, and as soon as I hear the door close, I stand, rip the curtain shut, and make my way over to the side of the bed where my best friend lies.
The only sounds are my heavy breathing and the machines keeping her alive.
“What the fuck am I going to do now?” I growl, tears streaming down my face, my fists clenching at my sides in anger and overwhelming sadness.
My voice gets louder with each passing word.
“You can’t leave me. It’s not fair. How am I supposed to live without you, huh?
” Without thought, my hand darts out, striking the metal table holding the cleaning supplies I’ve been using to wipe the blood off her mangled body.
It crashes to the floor with a bang as I hunch over my best friend’s body and wail with a deep sob.
I grip her arm in both of my hands and sob harder as the arm under my fingertips feels nothing like my best friend's.
It is swollen, nearly double its size from the trauma and all the fluids being pushed into her body to keep her alive.
I begin to hyperventilate and stand, trying to catch my breath.
The knowledge that I will be losing her today finally settles into my soul, and it is too much to bear. I struggle to catch my breath.
Both my hands go to my neck as if I'm fighting off an invisible force that is trying to restrict my airflow.
I collapse onto the floor and crawl my way over to the cabinet on the wall of the room.
I sit up, propping my back against the cabinet while I struggle to breathe, and I take in the last moments on earth I have with my best friend.
The curtain shielding me from the glass doors and prying eyes is ripped open, and there stands Allie. Her eyes meet mine, and I see sorrow in hers as she takes in my state. She drops to her hands and knees in front of me, cradling my face in hers and demanding that I take deep, big breaths.
“We will get through this. I don’t know how, but we will,” she says, nodding frantically as she tries to coax me to keep breathing, tears now streaming down both of our faces.
“The sisters will help us all get through this together. They will help us put the war paint on, and we will rise.” I take in deep breaths as I press my forehead to hers and cry, gripping both her arms, still cradling my face in her hands.
“The men won’t stand for this. We will get the fuckers who did this to her. ”
“War paint?” I rasp between lungfuls of air.
A small, sad smile tugs at her face. “Scarlette told me that the night I came home without your dad and Nix. Somehow, it was exactly what I needed to hear.”
A chuckle escapes my lips, coming out more like a choked garble. Nodding, I whisper, “war paint.”