5. Let Me Be Your Drug
5
Let Me Be Your Drug
Ever
“If I can’t make the transplant list, then why does it matter?”
Dr. Warren frowned again, a signature expression of hers and fixed her glasses on her pointed face. God, I wanted to break off the tip of her beak-like nose with my fist.
“Antidepressants cause a multitude of cardiovascular issues, Miss. Knight. We can’t afford tachycardia or an increase in your hypertension —”
“You mean me ? I can afford it. You’re not the one dying,” I growled across the desk. Dr. Warren sighed in exasperation and sat back in her overly ornate, high-back chair, looking every bit the evil overlord. It swallowed her and that goading white lab coat whole, and I wanted to shred it with my hands. I wanted to take this pain out on someone else.
After my — incident with Hawthorne a few days ago, I made a point of getting in touch with my doctor about help, but I wasn’t interested in therapy. Having him show up to find me nearly dead was a scary, albeit needed, wake up call that if my heart didn’t kill me first, then I surely would.
He’d come to check on me last night, his stethoscope pressed into my skin and making me nervous with desire. He’d been true to his word and didn’t touch me with his hands, but the cold metal on my nipples had nearly pushed me to the edge. In my head I was chanting for him to be a liar — to wrap his beautiful lips around my breast and pepper them with soft kisses. Thankfully those thoughts had remained buried.
“As a physician, I can’t in good conscience prescribe you medication that would harm you and negatively interact with your heart medication.”
“Then take me off the Tenormin,” I argued, spreading my hands out on the desk. She eyed me like I was a deranged animal rather than a woman begging for help. “I’d rather not stall the inevitable.”
She stared me down and then firmly replied. “No.”
No? Just like that?
I bit the inside of my cheek, breathing quickly through my nose. “You’re content to watch me suffer then? Deny me a heart and then let me flounder until my lungs give out?”
Dr. Warren narrowed her gaze. “Your denial stems from your substance abuse, Miss Knight. This situation is a direct outcome of your poor decisions, as is the board’s unwillingness to give a healthy heart to someone who very well might abuse it.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but her wrinkled hand rose up and sealed my lips. “And again, I can’t, as a physician, take you off of a medication that is prolonging your survival just to prescribe antidepressants.”
I scoffed. “ Just to prescribe ,” I mocked her. “You’ve read my file? You know what I could do without those, don’t you? What will your good conscience do if I take matters into my own hands?” I rolled up my sleeves until the white scars on my wrist were in view. “Maybe I could open these back up and forgo all of this bother!” I nearly shrieked.
I didn’t tell her I’d nearly killed myself this week, fearing what recourse she would take.
Dr. Warren looked at me very seriously. “Miss Knight, are you wishing for another stay at New Haven?”
My body chilled at the threat, and I quickly pushed down the sleeves of my sweater. I’d spent two separate stints in New Haven Hospital, both times utter nightmares. The psychiatric in-patient hospital was cold, filled with people who were absolute nutters and so drugged up that they pissed themselves standing, and the staff would lie and call it rain. No one came out of there better than when they entered.
“No,” I responded quietly, though my jaw was still locked with tension. “Of course not.” This was exactly what I’d feared.
“If you’re so concerned about your mental health, maybe we should make a call down to the psychiatric ward and find a bed for —”
“ I said no .”
One silver brow rose as if she had fucking proved a point. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss about your medical plan today, Miss Knight?”
I fidgeted with the ends of my sweater, clearing my throat. “I’m not sleeping well,” I admitted without looking up at her. “My thoughts …” I mumbled.
She tapped her pen on the desk before opening the drawer and pulling out a script pad. “Eszopiclone has been proven to assist with patients suffering from insomnia. I believe you’ve been on it before?”
I nodded. “It made me lightheaded, though.”
She was scratching at the pad, then tore it and pushed it towards me. “Take it before bed, and don’t leave the house while on it unless accompanied by someone. Now, is that all, Miss Knight?”
I didn’t bother with an answer before standing and heading for the door with the script in my hand. She knew to send it to my local pharmacy, and I didn’t want to spend another second with that woman.
Fuck her, and fuck this hospital. No one here actually cared about the people who were mortgaging their houses and taking out loans just to survive. The doctors here would continue to get paid by insurance whether their patients survived or not, and they knew it. Their jobs were secure, but our lives were not. Soon enough, Dr. Warren would be relieved of having me as a patient, and the State would pay out to the hospital for my cremation.
I needed to reach out to my dealer and see what he could get me. Painkillers were far more common on the streets than antidepressants, which were usually easier to get from a doctor, just not in my case. I crumbled the script in my fist and shoved it into my pocket.
“I’ll just get them myself,” I was muttering to myself, looking down at my phone as I rounded a corner and ran right into a solid wall of white-draped muscle. Hands reached out to steady me before I fell, and I was pressed against a warm chest before my savior spoke.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry, little rabbit?”
My body shuddered, instinct taking hold and telling me to run. I slowly looked up into eyes like two obsidian pools, as endless as the galaxy, set in the chiseled face of a graveyard angel. His dark curls were meticulously styled back, the white coat stretching across his shoulders like it was a second skin.
“You,” I hissed, trying to free myself from his binding grip, but to no avail. Before I knew it, I was being backed through a doorway and into a dark office. Chills ran down my spine when the heavy door locked behind us, and I was alone with the mysterious doctor who was stalking my patient files.
“Me,” he confirmed before finally loosening his grip and allowing me to stumble out of his arms to a safe distance. The room had a window with the shades drawn, though they barely allowed any light to break through, with the skies covered in heavy clouds that promised snow. A broken blade in the shades allowed one strip of light into the room, illuminating Dr. Hawthorn’s face and predatory grin.
“What a pleasant surprise,” he purred as his eyes dragged across my body, leaving goosebumps where they passed. It was like being stripped bare, exposing all of my secrets to a man who craved them.
“Well, it’s a hospital, and I’m a dying woman. It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise to see me here.” I crossed my arms over my chest like an extra layer of armor, but it didn’t do any good. The room was freezing, except for the fiery trails his eyes left across my face and down my neck, where there was still a deep red mark from his teeth.
“Your name wasn’t on the patient list for today, so it seems you’ve made an impromptu visit to Dr. Warren. Is something wrong?” His eyes softened now, dancing across my body like it could tell him all he needed to know in order to make a diagnosis. “Did you have more palpitations?”
I shook my head. “I wanted a refill of my medication, but I was denied. It was a useless visit and a waste of my time.” I muttered, shifting from one foot to the other. I might have gotten a sleep aid, but an antidepressant would take care of both my issues. I would be able to sleep, but I knew nightmares would plague me, and the hypnotics caused my stomach to sour.
In the past, it had taken a lot for me to be honest about my mental health and even more for me to ask doctors for help. Growing enough courage and going to Dr. Warren had taken days of pep-talk and practiced conversations alone in my apartment — just to be dismissed with a sigh and a distinct sense of not giving a damn. It hurt.
Hawthorn took a step towards me, and I stiffened, my hip was pressed into the wide desk and there was nowhere else for me to go. He loomed over me, head tilting down so the low light played across his granite-hewn features. Standing this close, I could smell his cologne and the masculine scent of his sweat. His body radiated heat, and it sucked me in like a cat searching for sunspots. I almost wanted to bask in his presence — almost.
“What medication, Ever?” He said my name one syllable at a time, tasting the way it sounded on his lips and smiling as he realized he enjoyed it.
I swallowed, my hands reaching behind out to steady myself on the desk as I leaned away from him. “Trazodone,” I whispered as my mouth felt like it was filled with cotton balls.
Hawthorn pursed his lips, nodding slowly. “Which you can’t take while on beta blockers, but you knew that before walking into the hospital today.”
Fuck. Why did he know me so well? It was unsettling.
“So you requested to be taken off the Tenormin.” It wasn’t a question. He knew that I was trying to hand over my heart in exchange for a few more months of numbing my body to this Hell. Why wouldn’t I? Without a chance for a new heart, I was fucked anyway.
“And she threatened to have me sent to New Haven,” I croaked, shoulders shaking. God, I had been pushing Dr. Warren too far and she could still have me admitted if I was a danger to myself. She could go home and have an argument with her husband, and come into work tomorrow and think, You know what, fuck Ever Knight.
That’s all it would take for a twenty-four hour hold.
Hawthorne’s eyes darkened, and then his warm hand was settled on my shoulder, calming my shudders. I wanted to recoil away from him, as I usually did when anyone tried to touch me, but there was something about the way he touched me that made me feel safe. No, not safe, but secure. Like I could jump from the top of a building and he’d somehow catch me.
“I wouldn’t allow her to do that, Ever. I know how those facilities affected you, but I’m worried about you not going back on your antidepressants,” he murmured. His thumb was pressed into my shoulder, massaging gently. “Until I can get you a new heart, you have to keep your current one beating. It would make me very angry to have a repeat of our last encounter. I’d much rather spend our time doing… other things.”
Wait — get me a new heart? I opened my mouth and closed it, trying to speak, but my tongue felt like it was lead. All I could focus on was his scorching hand on my body and the tension he leached out of me.
“Did you buy more Vicodin? Off the streets?”
I blinked at him, and shamefully nodded my head. After he left my apartment the first time I noticed he’d taken my existing pills. After throwing a handful of things around my apartment I did the adult thing and called my dealer for a refill. I knew it wasn’t smart to be mixing these medications, but my body and mind were in a competition to see which could tear me down the fastest. Would it be the way my body shook, heart trying to escape my chest, or the insidious darkness that haunted my thoughts, threatening to swallow me whole?
Hawthorne hummed, and it was a pleasant noise that was so close to my chest that I could feel it in my bones. It was like one of those Tibetan bowls, which are healing and calming. His hand moved from my shoulder to rest at the base of my neck, his thumb pressing into my pulse, and I felt my heart lurch beneath his touch.
“We don’t want to get you too excited, little rabbit.” He said, leaning forward until his lips were brushing against my cheek. “What can I do to bring a smile to your pretty face? I want to replace the drugs you depend on.”
I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the blaring alarms in the back of my head that told me that this man was dangerous, obsessive, and strange. His interest in me seemed unfounded, and he was digging into private records that no one was supposed to see. A man with access to my private life and who I knew nothing about other than he was stalking me.
Hawthorn pulled me flush to his chest, lowering his head to swipe his tongue across my pulse. I shuddered and pressed my knees together. “Let me be your drug, Ever. I can turn off that overactive mind of yours.”
I made a choking noise, my heartbeat jumping again. The way he said my name sounded like a prayer, and I wanted to kneel with him. He must have felt it with his thumb on my pulse because he pulled away and pressed his lips against my cheek gently.
“Tell me what you want, rabbit. I’ll give it to you,” he whispered, breath warm on my skin, yet my body bloomed with goosebumps. “I’d give you my dying breath, if you asked for it.”
“I — ” I tried to speak, but Hawthorne made my mind go blank. His proximity… it was like a drug. Not for the first time my body was responding despite logic screaming at me that this was dangerous. A bad, bad idea.
His other hand came up, gently wrapping around my waist to rest his palm against the small of my back. If anyone was to walk in right now, it would appear like lovers in an embrace. Heat bloomed in my stomach , every inch of my body that was flush against him alight and God – I could feel his cock straining in his slacks and throbbing against my hip. I must have made a noise, because he chuckled low. I wanted to melt in his arms.
“Do you feel how much I crave you, Ever? Since I saw you standing outside, hair flying around you like Medusa’s dark locks — I was mesmerized. I wanted to taste you,” he whispered as his tongue ran from my cheek to my ear. “And now that I have, I know you’re intoxicating .”
I whimpered, knees shaking below me.
“I want to deliver your pleasure.” He moved his thumb to lay a firm kiss across my pulse. “And to own you, little rabbit. Possess you as I want you to possess me, and I take very good care of my things.”
I shuddered. “Why me?” I cringed as my shame and self-hatred chased off the pleasure I should have been feeling. I craved to feel wanted by someone who promised me pleasure — but at what cost? Hawthorne was dangerous, and he commanded my body like no one else ever had. That was terrifying. I was but a puppet in his hands.
Hawthorne pulled back, his dark eyes intense as he seemed to be holding on to his last thread of restraint. “Because, little rabbit, I see a soul who yearns to be kept and cared for. I want to hold your heart in my hands and watch it slowly come to a stop. To see your blood painted across my skin before I give you a new life.” He sounded crazed, rabid with blood lust and a hunger that made me want to run.
“You scare me,” I admitted into the small space between us, voice wavering. “The way you look at me like you could sink your teeth into my flesh makes me feel like I’m running from one death to another.”
His fingers pressed harder into my back, making me arch into him. “I should scare you, rabbit, because I’m not a good man. I want to paint your body with blood and lick it off like my own personal brand of ambrosia. Your pain will belong to me, but so will your pleasure. An ouroboros of obsession and lust, Ever. That’s what I can offer you. A heart, placed in your body by my own hand. The same hand that can make you quiver with ecstasy,” he groaned as he stared down at me.
My chest was rising and falling fast, my heart trying so hard to jump out of my chest and into his strong hands. Offering him what I knew he wanted was a bad idea, but the fear was too much, and instead I felt myself pressing my palms into his chest and pushing him back. He held on tight for a moment, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t let me go.
Then he released me, and I ran from the office with tears in my eyes and a tightness in my chest that I couldn’t shake. I needed to escape before I knelt at his feet and begged for more.
I was almost to the parking lot before a tight hold on my arm had me spinning around and staring up at Hawthorne, his hands raised in submission as he passed me my phone. “You dropped this, little rabbit.”
His eyes seemed to sparkle like polished marble, darkened by his remaining lust. I hated how he looked at me because it threatened to tear down the walls I’d spent so long building. One swipe of his tongue, one touch and the bricks threatened to crumble. I quickly snatched it from his hand and ignored the way his tongue darted out to swipe across his bottom lip, savoring the remnants of me that lingered there.