34.
I absolutely loathe hospital rules. It seems to me that they’ve been put into place to drive a patient’s loved one to complete insanity, so that they, too, might end up needing medical assistance for forced frustration.
“ You can’t just waltz inside the control room, Mr. Ledger! ”
“ You need to keep your voice on the down low, Mr. Ledger! ”
“ You are not permitted to physically harm the hospital staff, Mr. Ledger!!! ”
Fuck that, and fuck them. But unfortunately for me, I can’t boss around the employees here at the Lumina Pacific Hospital , even though they’ve all but deemed me a nuisance. Why, you ask? Let me list a couple of very important reasons for you:
1 . This overbearing, ridiculously posh hospital is funded by the Lutkus family, aka Aras and his elder brother, Darius.
2 . The head-staff of the hospital chose not to involve the Anaheim Police Department after witnessing Cigs’ condition upon our arrival here. It was mostly out of courtesy to Aras, but still, the gesture does count for something.
I shift on my hips, then grunt in pain when the ice-cold hospital floor bites into my ass, and the white stone wall stiffens my lower back. Bringing my left knee up, I place my forearm on it, then stretch out the other leg before arching my hips a little to release some tension from it.
A tall, curt-looking nurse in a pastel-pink uniform enters the hallway, and as our eyes meet, her lips curl in a disgustful scowl.
I mirror her scowl, then smirk when she quickens her pace and all but runs away from me.
You see, the reason I’m so fucking irritated with the staff here is because they wouldn’t let me stay by Cignette’s side while they checked her out in the ER, possibly her vitals and whether she has a serious head injury that needs express attention.
And then, they asked me to leave the premises when I told them that I wanted to be in the CT scan room with my girlfriend.
I’m pretty sure one of the doctors even called me “stupid” behind my back, but I chose to practice restraint in that moment.
Stabbing him in the throat had naturally been my first thought, but then my brain went back to the two goddamn reasons from above, and I had to stop myself from giving into my impulses.
I don’t understand how normal people deal with this sort of bullshit.
I look up at the ICU room in which they’ve admitted Cignette. When they took her in, she was still unconscious. I asked the doctors to at least give me an update on her health, but all they said to me was to have patience. The fucking irony of it, honestly.
I’ve been waiting for the goddamn door to open for over an hour. Safiya and my crew are hurdled in a corner, and Aras… Well, he looks just as distressed as I feel. His reason for said distress, however, isn’t Cigs, but…
“Darius…” He sighs his brother’s name for the sixth time, I think. Or maybe it’s the ninth. I’ve seriously lost count.
He pulls the phone away from his ear and pinches the bridge of his nose, then exhales a long, tiresome breath. To his left, Magner has one foot propped against the wall behind him, and is studying his best friend with a frown on his face and his arms folded across his chest.
“I didn’t do shit wrong, okay?” Aras tells Darius, who has apparently learnt of the things that happened at the Lutkus estate tonight.
“Fred and his son fucked us over; I simply gave them a taste of their own medicine.” He then goes on to talk extensively, too quickly in fluent Lithuanian, which is way out of my league.
I look at Magner and arch a brow at him, to which he shrugs, making me chuckle.
Someone comes to sit next to me, pressing their body to the side of mine.
“Hey.”
I turn and look at Alex, who has both his legs stretched out next to mine and is smiling at me.
“Hey,” I say, returning his smile.
“How’re you holding up?”
I lift a shoulder. “I’d be better if I had an update on Cigs’ health.”
“Oh, she’ll be fine ,” Alex assures. “Our Cigs knows a thing or two about living through the worst of things.”
“I seriously wish I had your confidence.”
He nudges my elbow with his. “You of all people know what surviving a parent’s brutality does to you, Ledge,” he tells me, then rests the side of his head against mine.
“It solidifies you in ways nothing, and no other experience ever will. Death seems more like an adventure than a threat; your life turns into an object you feel the itch to gamble time and again.”
“If that’s the case, then you’re just as good at knowing what it feels like,” I remind him. “Your uncle was a monster to you, too, just like my mother was to me, and the Adlers were to Cigs.”
“Eh.” He sighs. “It’s in the past now, and despite it having scarred our memories, I believe that we’re better because of it.”
I hum. “True.”
We’re silent for a while, and somehow, having Alex next to me makes me feel calm and more…grounded. I soak in as much of the quiet as I can; I let it take over, if only for a bit.
There’s a little crack in the ceiling just above me, and I don’t know why, but I find it fascinating that it’s just…sitting there. It can’t move, nor can it fix itself. It’s just fucking there .
Is this what it’s like when someone loses their mind? It sure does feel like I’m losing mine.
“Ledge?”
I let go of a breath. “Yeah?”
“Three doctors and two nurses have passed us by, and they’ve all given your hands different shades of horrifying looks. I’m pretty sure they thought you’ve either escaped the mental ward, or you’ve injured yourself and have fallen into shock.”
I stare at his impassive face for a few seconds, but have to look away when a sudden wave of laughter rips out of me. I can’t help it; it just happens.
“I’m being serious,” Alex deadpans.
“I know, I know.” I laugh again. “It’s just the way you said it that made me lose it.”
“ Christ’s sake ,” he mutters. “Will you please go wash your hands? Pretty please? As much as I appreciate the aesthetic you’re pulling off, we don’t want the staff here to think Aras has ties with a bunch of loose cannons.”
I glance at the hands in question. There’s dried, slightly crusted blood on them, along with small, soggy chunks of skin, both on my palms and my fingernails.
“Do you want me to take a picture of them so that you can get it framed for your bedroom later?” Alex sasses.
I roll my eyes. “Of course not, Alex. I may be a weirdo but I’m not that mad.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” I narrow my eyes at him, to which he clicks his tongue and says, “Stop admiring your hands and go wash them already, Ledge.”
“Fine,” I tell him, and when he blinks expectantly at me, I grunt and get to my feet.
“ Fine , I’m going,” I announce, and with the little asshole’s laughter ringing behind me, I start marching to the bathroom that’s just outside the massive hallway.
I use my shoe to push open the alabaster door once I’ve reached it, and as soon as I step inside, I’m hit with an overwhelming smell of citrus. Lemon, mostly, emanating directly from the wall-mounted automatic spray machines that are installed throughout the pristine room.
I bypass the row of stalls and reach the sink area on the other side of the room. Placing my hands under one of the marble-carved wash basins, I watch as a heavy stream of ice-cold water drifts onto them, immediately dissolving the dried blood from my skin.
I pull my hands away from the water and pump some of the gel-like hand wash into my palm from the bottle that’s next to the sink, then start rubbing it onto the still-stained areas.
Using my thumb nail, I scrape off Fred’s residues from inside the rest of my fingernails, and have only just let water run down my soapy hands when one of the stalls behind me opens, followed by the sound of footsteps that seem to be coming close to where I am.
I don’t look at the mirror to see who it is. I don’t have to, because I soon feel someone’s presence a few feet away from me.
“You here with a family member or a friend?” he asks. A second later, the sound of flowing water meets my ears.
I close my eyes and let go of a breath. Don’t engage, and he’ll leave , I tell myself. Don’t give into your urges and fuck things up for Aras. You’ve got this .
“I’m here with my wife,” the man provides. “She just delivered our first baby. It’s a girl.”
I grit my teeth as I keep my eyes trained on my hands. Unfortunately for me, some of the chunks of skin I removed from my nail beds are starting to clog the tiny drain in the middle of the wash basin.
Fuck my life .
I shift on my feet and dip my index finger into the small pool of water so that I can push the blockage out through the useless holes in the drain. Rubbing my fingers over the squishy skin particles, I press them downwards to quicken the process.
“You okay, man?”
Jesus H. Christ . The guy just won’t give up .
I release a relieved breath just as the last of the blockage disappears down the drain, then quickly wash my hands again before facing the stranger.
He’s slightly shorter than me, has a head full of silken blond hair, and eyes that are dark, yet look so vibrant that it’s kind of obscene.
He smiles when I look at him, them offers me a still-wet hand for a shake.
I glance at it, then him, before scratching my jaw and taking a step towards him.
He retreats almost comically, pressing himself against the ivory wall behind him. Raising his hands in front of him, he swallows and says, “I was only being courteous, man. I’m sorry; I get the hint.”
I scoff and move away from him. “Relax, will you? I’m not going to hurt you.” I shake my head and turn to leave, but stop after hearing his next words.
“I don’t know what has you feeling so dejected, but whatever it is, I hope it gets better. You seem like a nice guy to me.”
I laugh and face him again. “Trust me, buddy, I’m the worst kinda guy there is.”