Chapter 9 Deirdre
Deirdre
“Mysteries force a man to think, and so injure his health.” Edgar Allan Poe
The nurse knocks on the door before entering, a clipboard in hand and a smile too bright for this early in the morning.
“Good morning, Deirdre. Ready to go home?”
Home.
I sit up straighter in the bed, stretching my fingers over the scratchy hospital blanket one last time. Thirteen days, and this room somehow became my prison and my refuge all at once. I nod, politely, trying to seem convincing.
She goes through the motions, explaining discharge instructions like I haven’t already memorized every word.
No lifting anything over ten pounds. No strenuous activity.
No alcohol. Pain meds as needed but try not to rely on them.
Follow up with Dr. Adler in four weeks to assess whether I’m cleared for normal activity, whatever the hell that means anymore.
“Oh, and one more thing.” She reaches into a side pouch and pulls out a folded pamphlet.
“Given everything you’ve been through, the doctor highly recommends therapy.
It can help you process what happened, emotionally and mentally.
Trauma isn’t just physical, Deirdre. Healing comes in layers. It’s like peeling an onion.”
I take the paper from her with a nod, not bothering to look at it. I’ll shove it in my bag later and forget about it. Therapy won’t fix this. Talking about it won’t fix this.
The nurse claps her hands together, apparently pleased with herself. “Now, hospital policy says I have to wheel you out for safety.” She gestures to the chair waiting by the door. “You ready?”
Not even close.
But I nod anyway.
She helps me into the wheelchair with care, and once I’m seated, I take a moment to glance around the room one last time.
The beige walls. The faint echo of beeping monitors.
The tray table is still holding my untouched breakfast. This place saw the worst of me, bruised and barely hanging on. But I didn’t shatter. I won’t.
My chest rises with a shaky breath as anxiety washes over me. Kieran says healing takes time. Claire says I’m stronger than I think. Gabe says I’ll get back to who I was.
But the truth is, I’m not the same.
And I never will be.
Because someone tried to take everything from me. My body. My future. My life. They thought they could make me afraid. Fragile. Silent.
But I’m not so much afraid as I am furious.
It coils hot in my belly, burns behind my ribs, biting and constant like the ache in my side. I haven’t shown it. Not to Claire. Not to Kieran. Not even to myself, not really. I smiled when I needed to and played the part of the brave little survivor.
But I’m not interested in surviving anymore.
I want justice.
I want revenge.
And whoever did this—he’s going to pay.
Couch therapy isn’t going to bring me peace.
But the moment I look him in the eyes and make him feel even a fraction of what I felt that night?
That might.
The nurse wheels me toward the elevator, and I watch the hospital hallway pass by like a life I’m leaving behind. I survived this part.
Now the real fight begins.
Kieran guides the wheelchair through the campus pathway, the wheels humming over the concrete as we approach my dorm. The building looms ahead like it’s taunting me.
Claire walks a step ahead with my overnight bag slung over her shoulder, talking animatedly about getting everything just right for my first night back. I’m too tired to say anything, so I stay quiet.
I’m home.
When we reach our floor, we all pile out of the elevator and walk down the hallway.
Claire unlocks the door and pushes it open with her hip, flicking the lights on.
The space is clean, bright, and exactly as it was before…
but I can feel the weight of what happened here still clinging to the walls.
That feeling alone makes my chest tighten with dread.
I try not to flinch as Kieran rolls me in.
“I’ll grab more pillows from the closet,” Claire says, darting off.
Kieran bends to scoop me up from the wheelchair without thinking, but I hold my hand up.
“Professor,” I say teasingly. “Let me.”
My arms shake slightly as I use the armrests to shift myself, feet landing on the ground one at a time.
Kieran hovers like a protective father, resisting the overwhelming urge to scoop me up.
I can hear the sigh of relief escape him when I finally stand up.
I shuffle to the bed with all the strength I can muster and sit down, exhaling.
My eyes flick to Kieran, feeling triumphant.
Kieran lowers himself into the chair across from my bed and chuckles, “You’re a menace.”
I wink at him. “Takes one to know one.”
Before he can fire back, the door flies open, and Gabe walks in holding two greasy bags. “Don’t tell me you started without me.”
I can practically feel my face light up. “You brought the tacos?”
“From the one and only…The Rolling Tortilla,“ he says with a proud grin, holding them up like a trophy. “Birria, carnitas, and the pineapple fresca you like…You’re welcome.”
Claire claps and does a little dance by the bed, and I grin, my heart feeling lighter than it has in days. Gabe always knows just what we need.
Kieran chuckles from the corner, arms crossed, watching our excitement like we’re some sort of chaotic play he can’t look away from.
He’s been quiet since we got back, probably still stewing over the fact that I’m not staying at his place.
But he’s been a good sport, helping Claire carry my bags up and getting everything set up so I don’t have to lift a finger.
Claire rushes over, practically ripping a bag out of his hand.
“God, I missed this.” She laughs as she hands me a bag that I’m already reaching for like it’s a lifeline.
The savory aroma fills my nose, and I take in a huge exhale.
Pulling a taco from the bag, I begin to unwrap it. My stomach answers with a low growl.
Kieran watches me take the first bite. It tastes almost as good as the sex I can’t have. The moan that elicits from my mouth is borderline indecent, and he shifts in his chair. His heated gaze sparks something in my chest, warm and dangerous.
“You okay?” Kieran asks quietly, before I’ve finished chewing.
I nod around a mouthful. “I’ve never been better.”
The room feels full for the first time in weeks. Laughter bounces off the walls, the crinkle of foil and sauce packets filling the silence in between. For a second, it almost feels normal.
Just as I am about to unwrap another taco, a crisp knock on the door silences the room. Three knocks. Precise and cold.
My stomach drops.
Kieran’s entire posture changes—straightens and tightens. Claire shoots me a look, and I already know.
President Sheridan.
He reminds me of Principal Snyder from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a short, annoying pest that lurks around every corner.
The door creaks open, and there he is, in his usual tailored suit and disapproving expression. His eyes land immediately on Kieran, and the temperature in the room seems to plummet.
“Professor McKnight,” Sheridan says smoothly. “Imagine my surprise seeing you here…helping the lovely Miss Ravencroft settle in.”
Kieran doesn’t flinch. “I saw them getting out of the car with Gabe and figured I’d play the good Samaritan.” He motions to the empty wheelchair still sitting in the middle of the room. I flinch. It’s an ugly reminder of the hospital, and I wish we could get rid of it.
“Ah.” Sheridan’s smile is thin, his eyes narrow. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately, it seems…where Miss Ravencroft is concerned.”
I want to disappear into the floor. Sheridan’s eyes lock on mine, assessing, and I force a polite nod. Kieran’s jaw ticks. Claire folds her arms and stands taller.
There’s a beat of silence so heavy it’s deafening.
“Well,” Sheridan finally says, turning to leave, “I hope you recover well, Miss Ravencroft. And I hope everything is…appropriate from here forward.”
With that, he’s gone.
The second the door shuts, I exhale a large, unsteady breath. “He knows,” I say quietly, looking at Kieran and Claire. “He knows. We are so screwed.”
“You’re not screwed,” Claire says firmly, even though she looks a little pale. “He’s just sniffing around. No proof. You two will just have to be more careful.”
Kieran paces once, twice, before stopping by the window. “It’s only a matter of time. He’s not going to let this go.”
Gabe raises a brow. “Then maybe, just make sure he has nothing to find.”
I look at all three of them, my makeshift little army, and despite the fear curling in my gut, I feel grounded.
“For now, we stay quiet. We play his game by his rules. It’s only temporary,” I say, looking at Kieran. “We fight smart, and we protect each other.”
I grab a taco and take a bite like I didn’t just declare war against the president of the University. He will not take the one person who finally brings joy into my life.
Claire grins.
Kieran doesn’t smile, but he nods.
Game on, Sheridan.