Chapter 12 #2
Morpheus chuckles. “Alright, I definitely understand.”
Lou smirks. “I wouldn’t mind being owned by Atticus. He’s rather handsome.” Her husband raises an eyebrow as she laughs. “I like it when he’s jealous,” she whispers to me.
“Let’s go have a seat. Yorick is recovering from an attack and shouldn’t be up too long,” Morpheus says.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, but he wants to pamper me and I’m certainly not going to say no to some pampering.
“What’s causing a delay in your healing?” Lou asks.
“Some… poison something. I’m not sure what it was,” I say.
“That’s scary. I’m sorry you got hurt. Niles, we should look into that. It would be bad if something like that was getting passed around.”
“Do you know where it came from?” Niles asks me.
“Atticus might. I’ll have to ask him but I don’t have my phone.”
“I might have his number if he doesn’t have me blocked,” Morpheus says.
He pulls me in so close that I bump into him.
I look up at him in surprise. It does feel nice having someone freely touch me after so long, even if it’s not the person I’ve always wanted it to be.
And when we sit on the couch, he damn near pulls me onto his lap.
He fiddles with the edge of my sleeve while his brother rattles on.
My eyes are fixated on his fingers as I wonder why I spent so long seeking this out from those who never wanted to give me anything.
It was foolish of me, wasn’t it?
Danny walks in and announces, “The doctor’s returned.”
Morpheus looks up. “Oh! I’m sorry to interrupt you, Niles, but—”
“I can go alone,” I say.
He fiddles with my shirt for another second. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He hesitates before looking toward the door. “Seems like you’ll have company anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“Go along.”
I get up and follow Danny back to the same room I was in earlier. When I step inside, the doctor starts to set up a moment before I sense the last person I ever thought would be here, and who Morpheus must have been alluding to.
Atticus.
The door opens and Atticus walks in, shutting it behind him.
“What are you doing?” he asks, expression and voice cold. I see he is displeased that I haven’t stabbed Morpheus and been on my way to my grave yet. Did he arrive expecting that he’d find Morpheus weakened so he could swoop in and finish him off before dragging my body out?
“The doctor Morpheus called in suggested diluting the poison in my blood by draining some of it so I can then replace it,” I say. “What are you doing?”
His eyes narrow and I sigh, knowing that I’m about to get yelled at.
“I don’t give a shit what you think,” I declare before he can open his annoying mouth.
“Fine,” Atticus says, folding his arms over his chest. The doctor seems unsure but continues what he was doing. As promised, he doesn’t pull too much blood out of me before replenishing it directly with an IV. He watches my wounds closely as he does so, but frowns after a bit.
“I don’t think it was successful. Your rate of healing doesn’t seem any faster,” he states as he looks at where he’d drawn marks on my arm near the wound, which would allow him to judge how quickly I’m healing.
“It’s fine,” I say.
Atticus holds his hand out and the man looks at him questioningly. “Give me the bag with his blood in it.”
“I’m… just going to dispose of it.” The doctor is clearly confused, and I also feel uncertain what Atticus thinks we’re going to do with it.
“I will dispose of it,” Atticus says.
The doctor is still hesitant. “I’m… not sure why… you cannot drink this. It has poison in it.”
“I’m not planning on drinking it,” Atticus replies as he takes the blood and carries it over to the sink where he drains it, running water to dilute it the entire time.
Is he worried they could use my blood to make more of the poison or something? Seems like something his paranoid ass would do.
The doctor leaves when he’s finished, so it’s just the two of us now.
I turn to Atticus. “Why are you here?”
“Let’s go.”
“Where?” I ask, surprised he’s not asking me why I haven’t completed my task yet.
“Home.”
I think about how lonely “home” is. I just sit there for hours with nothing to do, no one to talk to, no one to even care whether I’m there or not. “I don’t want to go home. I really like it here.”
Atticus hesitates, pulling back his hand that had been halfway to me. “You… like it here? You like it with that fucking asshole?”
He bites back his next words, and I can tell it’s because Morpheus is coming this way. He knocks once before opening the door.
“Why Atticus, what a pleasure to see you. I don’t believe you’ve ever visited me. Were you missing Yorick?”
Atticus’s eyes are cold as ice when they lock onto Morpheus’s. His entire body stiffens, like he’s looking for a fight. “I’m taking Yorick home.”
Morpheus casually leans against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest as though this whole situation bores him. “Is there a reason why?”
“Because I don’t want him with you.”
“I know we didn’t always get along, Atticus.
But you weren’t always a good man yourself.
I have lived for two thousand years. I did what I had to in order to survive, much as you did and much as I’m sure Yorick here did.
You can’t just fixate on the past. You have done nothing but punish yourself since you were turned.
You think you deserve nothing. You live such a toxic—”
“I don’t want you telling me how I live my life,” Atticus snarls.
“Yorick is fine here. Go home.”
“Yorick, let’s go,” Atticus says before he pushes past Morpheus, knocking him back from where he was standing.
A large part of me wants to trail after him as I have for so many years, but what has that gotten me? My eyes flick to Morpheus and he gives me a soft smile.
“Yorick, now,” Atticus snaps.
My thoughts are a whirlwind of the past and present.
I know why Atticus wants me to leave, but why does going back to that lonely house sound so much worse than staying here?
“Why the fuck do you even want me to go with you? Whenever I do, you don’t want me anywhere near you.
Doesn’t me being here solve that? So go home. ”
Atticus stops walking and slowly turns to face us. “Let’s go now, Yorick. I’m not asking, I’m telling you. We are leaving.”
“Maybe if you stopped telling him what to do and ordering him around, he would be happy to go with you,” Morpheus suggests.
Atticus rushes up to face Morpheus. “Oh? You think—”
Niles steps into the hallway. “Atticus! I haven’t seen you for many years now.”