“I’m not mental.”
“Ah, denial. I guess the next thing you’ll say is you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be?” Two delicate eyebrows are raised, her lips puckered like she’s waiting for a kiss.
“I am exactly where I need to be,” I counter, and she shakes her head.
“This isn’t your floor, so why don’t you go to level five and ask them to take you back, or better yet, commit you to one of those psychiatric prisons in a faraway land where you can enjoy your anger by punching walls. You’re already on the right track.”
No one has ever talked to me like that. Does she know who the fuck I am?
“Speaking from experience?”
She takes a seat on the last chair, crossing her legs like a little debutante deviant, her eyes steady on me. I hate to admit it, but that little speech just stole my breath away and makes me angry all over again. It’s a heady combination that shouldn’t make me want to talk to her more—albeit get a rise out of her.
“I saw a documentary once,” she shrugs. “Trust me, it would really be beneficial for you.” She glances up at me, her eyes clouding for a second. “I think.”
“You think?” I growl, more from the pain shooting through my arm than her words. “Besides being a pain in someone’s ass, what do you do?”
“What do you mean by that?” She tilts her head to the left, looking at me like I’m an idiot.
“You’re too young to be in here, roaming the halls like a lost puppy,” I mutter, searching for a parent that might be with her, but we’re alone.
“I’m not lost.”
“You’re too young to be here.”
“So are you.”
“I’m old enough.”
“Not for a hospital.” Her eyes narrow, watching me like she’s trying to figure me out, but she keeps her mouth shut, wisely choosing not to voice the questions swimming in her stunning aquamarine eyes. “That’s a burden you shouldn’t be caring by yourself.”
A burden?
I frown at her, the pain in my knuckles bothering me more than I thought it would, but I can’t help but translate that in anger.
“My brothers are not a burden. Taking care of them and looking out for them, is not a burden.”
Especially for Aiden.
“No, it’s not,” she mutters softly, her eyes growing even sadder like I just struck a nerve close to her heart. “Taking care of the ones we love shouldn’t sound like a death sentence.”
“And yet for some people, it is.” I grit out, looking away from her. Aiden’s care has felt like a death sentence to our dad right from the start.
“Can I speak freely?” she mutters after a while.
“You don’t seem to do anything else.” I glance down at my knuckles, discreetly checking the damage.
“You’re in pain.” Again, her airy voice is like a punch to the gut. “But I think they can still help you over at the psychiatry ward.”
Even though I appreciate the humor, I know that no amount of psychiatric help can fix the fact that my older brother with Down syndrome is suffering, and his parents don’t care.
“You seem to know a lot about mental institutions. Is that because you have firsthand experience?” I fire right back, wanting to push her buttons, needing to temper the pain she’s trying her hardest to hide. “Is level five where you spend all your time, besides looking pretty and sharpening your claws for a confrontation?”
She frowns then, an uncertain look in her eyes. The first sign that she might be just a girl after all. Not a sad angel with a wicked tongue.
“I don’t spend my time preparing for confrontations with anyone!”
This girl, whoever she is, always has to have her guard up. I’ve seen it often enough that it’s clear as day. She’s definitely going to be one of those power hungry, popularity-seeking, queen bitches of high school—which is strange for a girl with a soft side like her.
I turn away from her, ignoring the throbbing pain in my hand and then start walking away.
“Where are you going? To punch another wall?” she calls from behind me.
I don’t respond, I just keep going. I’m not interested in drama or gossip right now.
“Who are you about to lose?”
I stop dead in my tracks, the hairs at the back of my neck standing up on end. In the next second, I’m right in front of her, looking down at her. I see her swallow but she’s trying to be brave, acting like she isn’t fucking intimidated right now.
“I’m not about to lose anyone,” I growl, but even in the back of my head, I know it’s only a matter of time until I do.
“Really?” she challenges, her face stoic, but it’s the look in her eyes that paralyzes me. I can see everything I’m feeling inside, in her eyes. “Because it sure didn’t look like it before.”
“If I were you, I’d watch the next words that come out of my mouth, especially when you don’t even know who you’re talking about.”
We stare at each other for a long second, her chest rises and falls so fast, my heart is pounding but she doesn’t look away.
“Sit down,” she softly says, watching me.
“What?”
“Sit down, jerk. You look fatigued and dehydrated. When was the last time you ate?”
Surprised, I just stare at her, at a loss for words. She blinks her large eyes, silently waiting for my next move, so, I take a seat, keeping three chairs between us. I wouldn’t want to be near her, for all I know she might be death in the flesh, if she can easily get a rise out of me when I never actually talk to anyone, or let anyone temper with my thoughts and emotions the way she’s done in a few minutes.
Death has been dancing in the shadows of our cold, lifeless mansion since I was a little boy. We tried taunting her, throwing all the wealth and power we have at her. For a time, she went away but now…
I glance back at Aiden’s hospital door, ignoring the vibrating of my phone in my pocket. I know Liam will be back tomorrow from camp as school starts next week. And he has no idea what’s happening here.
“Why are you here?” I ask, keeping my voice low. I can feel her questioning eyes on me. She’s one curious little thing, and that might be a problem.
“It’s a hospital dummy, that question is irrelevant,” she counters, but the fire that was on her tongue before is now muted, not gone. A girl like her would never be caught dead without her ammo.
“Do you always avoid direct questions, or do you just have secrets in your pretty little head you don’t want me to know?” I look at her this time, catching her gaze but she quickly looks away.
“I would never share my secrets even if I had them,” she murmurs, looking away, her gaze fixing down the hall at another hospital door.
“Because girls like you don’t like juicy secrets?” I mock. She’s a rich girl with an attitude. She has the whole miss popular, lead cheerleader vibes going on,
“Secrets are fun when they’re not hurtful to you or anyone you love. Like who’s dating Shane Matthews, the cute guy from my middle school or who cheated on a stupid Math test that anyone could pass with their eyes closed. Those secrets are harmless.”