9. Crazy World
9
Crazy World
Ever
I’d stayed beneath my bed covers for days, afraid to come out and even more afraid to let my thoughts drift towards Theron Hawthorne. My stalker, pseudo physician and crazed man who was trying to own my body and soul and offering me an organ transplant as the means to do it. He couldn’t really get me a heart, could he? My whole body jolted when my phone went off, and I swallowed hard knowing that there could only be one person trying to contact me.
I picked it up and saw a text message alert.
Hawthorne: Missing me yet, little rabbit?
My heart skipped a beat, my thumbs resting over the keyboard as I thought about ignoring him completely and turning off my phone, but something told me that wouldn’t stop him. If he wanted my attention, this was the least threatening way he could get it.
How could I when you’re plaguing my every nightmare?
The response was immediate: I’m dreaming about you too.
I’d laugh if it wasn’t so damn terrifying to have a man stalking my every move and promising to hold my heart in his hands. I changed the contact number to his name and typed out my response through a shaking hands.
Nightmares, Hawthorne, and how did you know I’d be at the bookstore on Wednesday? Don’t you have dying women to seduce or kittens to drown?
I could imagine his eyes twinkling from the other side of the screen, knowing that he loved to be teased. I felt a small part of me recoil, knowing I was responding exactly as he’d like me to, but honestly, this was the most human interaction I’d had in years outside of the hospital and therapist appointments. Any attention is good attention, right?
I shivered, and read his next message: Only you, my Ever. I bet you have claws and fangs that are begging to be used. I’d let you use them on me, if you asked nicely.
I shook my head, and forced down the smile that threatened to tug at my lips . Even talking to this man through text messages was dangerous, but ignoring him could be worse. Far worse.
You didn’t answer my question. How did you know where I’d be?
Again, his response was near instant: I didn’t. I followed you from your front door, and made sure you got home safely. This is a crazy world we live in, Ever.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. That meant he must have been stalking my house for hours. Days? Just waiting for me to leave so he could follow me, and then show himself on the train to elicit a reaction. I stumbled to my window and slowly pulled back the curtain a crack, peering out at the snow-covered streets, half expecting to see his intimidating frame in a doorway or leaning against a car.
My phone pinged again, and I wanted to throw it out the window.
Hawthorne: If you’re wondering, no, I’m not checking up on you at the current moment. I have a surgery scheduled in 10 minutes and will be occupied for a few hours. Are you wishing I was there? I miss the taste of you, Ever.
Fuck, I should never have allowed him to get that close to me that day at the hospital. He took it as an open invitation and now thinks I return his … Affections?
Obsession, most likely.
Stay away from me, Hawthorne. This isn’t healthy for either of us. Let me live the rest of my short life in peace. I don’t want you.
I couldn’t describe it, but it felt like a lie. Maybe a part of me did want him, but not like this. Of course, he was wildly handsome and charismatic, but he felt like flirting with a loaded gun. At any moment, he could go off, and I’d have my blood on the pavement.
Hawthorne: Come, now. Neither of us believe that, little rabbit. You can run, but you can’t hide. I’ll see you soon.
I took a deep breath that brought me no relief, and tossed my phone onto the table next to the book I’d yet to pick up. I needed to get out of this apartment, and if he wasn’t lying, then there would be no handsome stalker to follow me through the city, at least for the afternoon.
I found myself riding the trains again, moving from one stop to the other without getting off or thinking too deeply about a final destination. My eyes danced between passengers of all different shapes, colors and backgrounds, all just trying to take life one day at a time. Maybe a few of them were sick like me, or maybe they had a clean bill of health but would get hit by a car tomorrow. The faces of so many strangers and the unlimited possibilities their lives held brought me a sense of comfort.
I’d wished nothing more as an adult than to be anonymous. I didn’t care for the attention that my mental illness or sickness brought on, and a small part of me dreamed of a far away cabin in the woods where I could read all day and never see another soul. But another part of me knew that the most dangerous aspect of being alone was that wasn’t anyone to save me from myself.
My train car rolled on, and I smiled as teens sank into faded and dirtied seats with coffees and loud voices. Their outlook on life was still clean, pure despite the stress of discovering who they were, and planning for a future where all their dreams would come true. I don’t think I’d ever been in that stage, and felt a tinge of sadness for a part of youth I’d lost before I’d ever found it.
I finally allowed myself to stand from my seat and file off the train after a few hours, still with no conscious destination and even fewer concerns about the late hour. It wasn’t until I was in its shadow that I realized with terror which building I’d ended up in front of.
The Boston Cardiac Center stared down at me, imposing and mocking like jesters at a circus.
Come one, come all, and pray that we can help you . Make sacrifices to the insurance gods and close your eyes in anticipation. A lucky few will be helped, and the rest will watch their lives crumble to ash before their very eyes.
My feet moved without me telling them, and I stood facing the wall where Dr. Hawthorne had first seen me come to the realization that I was going to die. I knew he was there, operating and saving someone’s life while his psychotic mind probably thought about new ways to tease and provoke me. It felt like a punch to the gut, knowing that he shared a level of darkness that I did, but I was able to apply it somewhere good. Somewhere, he was needed.
I leaned back against the wall and let myself slide down it until my ass hit the icy sidewalk. There, I watched the endless stream of people funneling in and out of the hospital doors, their destiny written plainly across their faces. Sadness, elation, resignation, fear. Certainly the happier expressions were in the minority.
An elderly couple slowly walked inside, hand in hand as he supported his wife’s back, neither of them smiling. Two more people entered through the doors alone, worry lacing their features, their gaunt expressions and weary glances reminding me painfully of my own face in the mirror. Scared, and completely isolated. Or maybe their spouse was working that day and couldn’t come with them to an appointment.
When a woman was wheeled out, followed by a man carrying a carseat and both with smiles wide enough to brighten the gloomy Boston afternoon, I felt myself grow bitter. They were about to start a new chapter of their lives, and I hated them for it. But I loathed myself more for hoping that they be divorced within a year, or that their child grew up to be a deadbeat who sold drugs. They were probably a lovely couple, but I couldn’t help my mind from wishing them the worst.
The thought of feeling joy was such an abstract concept I didn’t even know if I would recognize it if it did come my way.
I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there watching the entrance, but my fingers had stopped shaking as numbness set in. A different sort of pain replaced the ache in my chest, and my eyes started to close. Dulling the rush of staff, patients and visitors, quieting the sirens , there was a sort of calm that had settled over me. I felt like I could drift off to sleep, and never wake up again. Did I want to?
I recognized the feeling of a warm hand on my neck after a while, and muffled sounds that could have been worried, or maybe angry? I didn’t feel cold anymore, didn’t feel anything really, and the relief at the absence of my constant pain was astounding, sweet enough for me to let go completely, if it meant I could stay like this. Release myself into the embrace of this dark nothingness and rest a while.
“Damn it, Ever. Look at me, rabbit!” The voice was still very far away, but a blinding light in my eyes made me want to curl away and recede back into the darkness.
Strong arms wrapped beneath my shoulders and legs, and I was being lifted off the sidewalk as more voices joined in. They were all getting louder, and I winced inwardly when a needle pierced my arm. I wanted to open my eyes and ask why the fuck someone was waking me from my sleep like this, but they felt frozen in place.
A soft feminine voice was speaking from somewhere to my left my body was covered in blankets that felt far too warm against my skin. “Ever Knight, twenty-four, found unresponsive outside the cardiac center. Heart rate 55 BPM but rising with the use of intravenous fluids.” There was a pause. “Patient suffers from ACH, Dr. Hawthorne,” she said. I detected concern in her voice.
“I’m aware,” a man snapped back. “If her BPM doesn’t rise to over 70 in the next five minutes, I’ll call Dr. Warren. Now, get out.”
“But Doctor, this is Dr. Brison’s unit —”
“I should have this entire unit reported to the Board for gross negligence,” he said with deadly calm. “ She was outside for hours. N o one bothered to check on an unconscious woman in the snow? This is a hospital for fucks sake. Now, get. The fuck. Out.” The last words were snarled, cutting through the room and scaring away the woman. Only moments later a heavy door closed and the only sound I could hear was the heart monitor and his heavy breathing.
It was after a few heart beats that I felt Theron take my hand in his, and a feather-light kiss brush across my knuckles. “You’ll be the death of me, little rabbit. Would that make you happy? I would happily tear my own heart out, blood and flesh to rest at your feet.”
I wanted to speak — to tell him I had honestly just fallen asleep outside and wasn’t trying to kill myself — but I couldn’t force my lips to move. I couldn’t feel most of my body except for where his lips left burning marks on my skin. Branding me with his exhaustion and fear.
“Do not scare me like that again, Ever. I mean it,” he said quietly, but with a dangerous edge to his voice. I didn’t need to be fully conscious to appreciate the threat, or to know it was one he’d make good on.