50 | Recovery
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I watch light stream through the slotted blinds beside me, coming through in partitions that splash across the whole room. It's almost pretty, even across my bandaged wrists and the faint beep of medical equipment in the background.
"Well, I think that's all we need from you, Ava," The hollow voice talking to me continues, "We really appreciate your time."
I glance up at the two police officers positioned in front of my hospital bed, one young and smiley, the other older, sighing like he's done this a million times before.
I don't even know how I managed to zone out so quickly, my head is still stuck in this weird blur.
I remind myself it's probably the concussion.
"No problem," I reply quietly, giving my best polite nod.
I did tell them everything, every detail.
It hurt to recount, brought up all these fresh feelings still stirring around in my gut.
I spoke about my dad and all I could see was that shot, his lifeless eyes.
I answered their questions about Diego and Xavier, my brain latched onto Nolan, gun to Xavier's head, fighting the urge not to shoot him.
It's been two days and I still feel permanently exhausted, disorientated every time I take a sip of water or poke at the hospital food.
The concussion probably plays a part in that too but it's clear the chaos of that day won't leave my head alone.
It's a broken record, a messy reel of blood, tears, pleas.
The material on my wrists reminds me every time I move.
I blink up, watching the police officers go, muttering something about hoping I feel better. It's barely a second before my mom shoots through the door, eyes wide with the same concern she's had the entire time I've been here.
"How was that, sweetie?" She hums, coming round to sit beside me, "I hope they weren't too pushy, I said you should've had a lawyer here-"
"It was fine," I say, plainly. I can't describe the mountain of emotion in my brain, it was hard enough to tell her about dad.
But I did tell her, the second I saw her.
It was through tears, sobs of relief and garbled with apologies.
I said sorry for not telling her about the phone calls, for not doing something about seeing him in the city.
Maybe I could've prevented it all. But she just hugged me, held my head, told me how much she loved me.
She promised it wasn't my fault.
It's still hard to believe that fully.
"Are you sure?" She reaches behind me, fluffing the pillow at my back.
"Yes, mom," I keep my voice steady, calm. It's like I'm numb, like all this will catch up to me later, "It's okay, I really am fine."
She just shakes her head, blue eyes creased in worry. She's taken both these days off work, spent all her time smothering me. Thinking about how much stress I'm causing her makes me feel sick. I wanted to do the opposite of that, now it seems like she's on the brink of a heart attack anytime I move.
"The doctors say you can go home tomorrow morning, I might see if you can stay a little longer..."
"We can't afford that," I croak quietly, then clear my throat, "And if they say I'm doing better, then resting at home is what I need. You need to go back to work."
"No. I'm staying right with you," She refuses, scooting closer on the chair beside my bed. Her shaky hands find mine, lightly grazing one of the bandages, "I'm not letting you out of my sight until I know you're okay."
I could insist that I'll survive on my own but we both know it won't do anything - she's still going to act like I could split into pieces at any moment.
It's probably a lie, too. I'm not okay. Sitting in this room, far away from the events that led up to that day, makes it feel like a strange dream.
The pain doesn't drive me insane in the same way as before, it just lays heavy like an unspoken weight.
"Mom..." I start, glancing over at her.
"Yes, honey?"
My next words stall in my throat, but I push them out, "My friends...have they...visited?"
I don't know if they even are my friends anymore. After this fucking car crash why would they want to be? But that doesn't mean they haven't been in the back of my mind, hovering like a tick. I just want to know that they're okay.
Mom's face flickers into a gentle smile, "More than visited, they've been begging to see you. I've fended them off, well, at least until you could talk to investigators."
Oh? They have?
"I still think you need to rest but... I can't keep them away forever," Her hand tightens on mine as I turn to get a better look at her, "If it's what you want, you can see them."
My heart jumps at the opportunity before my brain does, every part of me lighting up.
God, I really do miss them. I miss Riley.
They mean a lot to me, more than they realise.
When I feel like I'm wandering this earth with no purpose, with chaos in my head, they steady me, give me a piece of my life I enjoy more than anything else.
"I do... want to see them," I nod. There are doubts, like whether Riley will even show up after the funfair, whether they'll question how I even ended up in Nolan's shit, but none of that feels as important as the chance to experience some fucking normalcy again.
"I told them to come by in the afternoon, after the investigators..." She pauses, eyes narrowing, "But someone is here anyway..."
My body stiffens, eyes widening as my brain jumps to the most obvious name.Nolan.
"Who?"
"Cole."
I freeze, surprise hitting me. I haven't seen him in days and now, instead of that silly, hyperactive boy or the worry I had around his drinking I have an entirely new perspective. Xavier's words, etched into my brain. Your friend has been keeping tabs on Nole since the day he came back.
I still don't know if it was real, whether he was just trying to fuck with me... I don't want to believe it but the pit in my stomach thinks otherwise. It's a twisted reality, something that still makes little sense.
I didn't tell my mom about that bit, I didn't tell the police either. It wasn't as big or loud in my head as the rest of it, the confessions, the blood, the gunshots. It was the fact that got brushed aside but is now travelling its way up my stomach. My head spins in its weird daze.
"He's been... persistent," Mom gestures to the door with her eyes, "You want me to let him in?"
I'm still reeling with the things I know happened, let alone these unanswered anomalies. If I see him, I have to start answering questions I don't want to ask. But as exhausted as I am, I need answers. So I nod.
"Don't be too long, you need to rest," She hums, placing a small kiss on my forehead before drawing back and heading towards the door. I watch her go, nerves snaking into my gut faster than I can catch them. I don't know what to expect.
Is he going to confirm all my worst thoughts?
A moment later the door cracks open and Cole slips through.
"Hi."
I reply, "Hey..."
His voice echoes in the small room, quieter than I've ever heard him.
His buzz cut is a little longer, barely, but noticeable to me.
Those brown eyes are tired, watching me with hesitance that floods his entire expression.
There's a beat of silence, one of his hands coming up to the back of his neck as he winces.
"Fuck, Ava, I'm so sorry..." Nothing more seems to come out, even when his lips open and close in the stiff silence.
My doubt is quickly draining. Those eyes look so guilty, like he's carrying the weight of a crushing secret. I can tell he wants to apologise, comfort me and get angry at himself all at the same time. I don't say anything back, wrapping my head around what this means... what he did.
He edges closer, cautiously, then reads my stalling expression. Even without words everything is out in the open.
"You know?" It's barely a question, practically a statement.
I nod. I don't even know how much of what I know is true, but clearly he was involved in this shit.
Cole swallows, wincing again, "I... I went to the police... about everything..."
The real threads of pain in his voice stand out, every part of his usual jokey personality stripped away. I listen as best I can, watching as his figure approaches from across the sterile room.
"I needed you to know that, that I'm sorry and that I'll help fix it as best I can. I don't know if I'll be, you know, useful, or whatever, in the investigation but I want to be."
I push myself a little higher up on the pillows behind me, wrists still stinging under the bandages. There's still gaps, things that don't make sense here. My mind burns with a thousand new questions.
"Cole...what even happend?" I force out, still quiet and somewhat dazed, "I mean... how did they even find you?"
He shakes his head, "I messed up, really messed up."
"Tell me," I insist, trying my best to form a smile. It doesn't really appear, the corners of my mouth twitching hesitantly. I gesture to that chair beside me and he sits in it, eyes off into the distance as he searches for the words to explain all this.
"It started with the drinks... I was offered money, to give these guys some information on Nolan. I was low on cash, burning through the alcohol I had left... I was pathetically desperate," I watch as his cheeks bloom red, the admittance eating him alive, "They made it seem like a one time thing.
So I did it, gave them a few locations, names, that sort of stuff."
I wouldn't have guessed, not with how normal he was acting back then. The words hit me slowly, like molasses.
"But then they wanted more, things about Riley, about you, about their whole family. I don't know, it stopped feeling so small, knocked some sense into me," He gulps, "But then I realised they weren't asking... when I went to hospital, after the fight, it was a warning. Not an accident."
My eyes widen, thoughts whirring to catch up.
Is that why Diego was at the hospital that day?
Because he'd snaked his way into Cole's life too, preyed on his addiction and started controlling his life like he does everything else.