I bit the inside of my cheek and refused to show any reaction when the last plaster, which had dried to the wound, was eased off. Ethan was breathing heavily through his nose, shaking his head every few minutes. I felt like a two year old.
He disappeared and came back with a tray of ointments and fresh bandages.
‘I don’t need this from you,’ I said, after one too many headshakes.
He paused, mouth half open like he was about to say something, but then just went back to tending my arm. I don’t think I’d ever met anyone so frustratingly obnoxious.
I felt my face heat up. ‘If you just undo these straps I can do it myself.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’
Now it was my turn to shake my head. ‘You don’t know me. You don’t know the first thing about me.’
‘Let me guess. There’s more than one of these harmless little cuts on your body?’
I didn’t answer.
He gave a grim smile. ‘Thought so. I guess I know something about you then. Where are they?’
I didn’t answer again.
He grabbed a handful of my blanket. ‘I’ll pull it off if I have to.’
‘And I’ll scream bloody murder! Who the hell do you think you are?’ I snapped.
He didn’t let go of the blanket. ‘I’m the guy who has to come in here and clean you up. So when you’re done feeling sorry for yourself, if that’s possible, would you mind telling me where the rest are so I can get this done and get on with something else.’ His tone was even, but the words cut.
I considered a long list of ways I could tell him to go screw himself. But there was something … It wasn’t like with Mom and Dad. He was angry at me, which he had little right to be since he didn’t even know me, but there was an urgency to it. To fix me. Not my head, but my body.
I sighed. ‘I’ll tell you if you promise me one thing.’
That earned me another headshake. ‘Whatever you’re going to ask for, I can’t do it. Can’t get you out, can’t get you drugs, can’t smuggle you food, can’t get you a phone, can’t take you for a joyride, can’t even bring you a toothbrush.’
‘You can do this much, I know you can.’ I’d heard Mitch tell him.
He clenched his jaw. ‘What?’
I took a deep breath. ‘Promise me that before midnight … Swear that you’ll release me from the restraints. I need to know that at midnight I won’t be tied down.’
His confusion showed. ‘Why?’
‘Does it matter? I’m here and can’t go anywhere. It’s just … It’s important to me. Please.’
He paused, watching me curiously. ‘What’s going on with you, Sabine?’
‘That’s … It’s complicated, Ethan, and we don’t have time.’ And then our eyes locked, and without thinking the mouth that had already landed me in so much trouble today opened again. ‘But if you truly want to know, I’ll tell you. Another time.’
He kept watching me. ‘And why would you do that?’
I shrugged. ‘Well, I’m already tied up. Things can’t get much worse.’
Ethan gave a small nod. ‘Famous last words,’ he muttered. ‘Where are they, Sabine?’
‘Promise me.’
For a moment I thought he was going to say no, but then he sighed. ‘You won’t be restrained at midnight. You have my word.’
‘And I can trust your word?’ I asked, watching him carefully.
He half smiled. ‘With your life.’
It was a dig, but somehow I knew it was also the truth.
‘My right thigh and stomach. And I didn’t break my own arm.’
His look softened momentarily before he got back to work, moving the blanket up from the bottom of the bed to reveal one leg, folding back my hospital gown until he found the bandages.
As he peeled back the plasters, I tried not to cringe.
‘That one isn’t as bad,’ I said.
There was a sharp intake of breath when he got the last of the bandages off. ‘Jesus. What did you do this with, a butter knife?’
‘Scissors and a razor. The scissors were a bad idea.’
‘You think?’ he deadpanned, then went back to shaking his head. ‘Does your life mean so little to you?’
‘No. Having a life is exactly why I’m doing this. And you can stop shaking your head like it matters to you. You don’t even know me, or care.’
After he’d finished re-dressing my thigh, he lifted my gown without looking to just below my chest and then replaced the blanket at my waist. It was gentlemanly. Even if his other actions weren’t. The rest of him radiated anger.
‘I don’t know you. What I care about is being made an accessory to suicide.’
‘What?’
Ignoring me, he pulled the plaster off the cut beneath my ribs and studied it. ‘So you started on your thigh, moved to this and then your arm?’
I blinked. ‘How …? How do you …?’
He shook his head again and it made me want to scream. ‘They get progressively neater and deeper. I saw your bag yesterday at the store. You were planning, weren’t you?’
I looked away.
‘Knew it. And that book? All planning, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, but not for what you think. I mean, take a look, Ethan. Do you think I’m really that stupid? Do you think I would cut myself on my thigh, my stomach and my upper arm if I wanted to die? My parents own a drugstore. Do you think I don’t know the long list of how and how not to kill oneself?’
He crossed his arms as I went on the attack. Somehow it made me even more annoyed.
‘Do you think I want this? To have everyone call me crazy? Think I would put myself in this position willingly for a failed attempt at death-by-small-cut-to-the-thigh? Yes, okay, I did it, but I have my reasons. And if you saw that stuff in my bag and thought I might be doing something with it, why didn’t you just say something?’
Ethan stared at me. Time stretched. I was out of words and simply exhausted. Just when I thought he wasn’t going to respond, he began to speak. ‘You were …’ He clenched his jaw. This time he seemed unhappy with himself rather than me. ‘I saw that stuff in your bag, so I went with you on your errands. I looked for signs.’ He glanced down at his hands. ‘I thought … You didn’t fit the mould. You talked about your future, seemed so full of life.’
After that, he left the room. I panicked that he wouldn’t come back. That he would leave me tied up as some kind of punishment. But a few minutes later he returned. With a syringe.
I tried to back away, but the restraints stopped me and my broken wrist ached at the pressure.
‘Ethan, I …’
Shit.
He was going to put me under. I’d dealt with the issue of the restraints, but not this.
‘Is there anything I can do to convince you not to drug me until after midnight?’
‘No.’ He didn’t even look at me.
‘Ethan, I’m sorry, okay. I was angry. You try being tied to a bed and drugged. It’s not a happy time.’
He paused. ‘What is it with you and midnight?’
I wanted to cry. ‘Please. Please don’t do this. It will … It hurts … It …’
‘You’re shaking,’ he said, now watching me intently.
‘It frightens me. Please.’ I looked at him, trying to hold his gaze while he watched me. ‘I’ll do anything.’
He reached forward and moved a strand of my dark hair out of my eyes, his own eyes shadowed with sadness. ‘That’s just the problem, Sabine. You could do anything.’ His hand dropped away quickly.
The syringe stung.
Tears streamed even as I tried to blink them away. The drug kicked in fast.
‘I’m so alone,’ I stammered, feeling empty and cold as everything went black around the edges.
‘You’re not alone, Sabine,’ he whispered. ‘You’re lost.’
The last thing I felt before I lost consciousness was the release of the restraints from my wrists. I’d be free of them when
I Shifted at midnight.
Ethan had made sure I’d know.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Wellesley, Sunday
I stretched out like a cat, silk sheets gliding beneath my hands. The morning birds were out in full force, probably nesting in the tree outside my room.
As lucidity wormed its way into me, the memory of the last twenty-four hours descended like a heavy blanket. My parents. Being hauled away. The clinic. Ethan.
Ethan. Drugging me, putting me under.
Ethan releasing the restraints, shaking his head at me, dressing my wounds, and that small gesture: brushing the hair from my eyes.
I’d been locked up. Medicated.
I’d been put on SW!
I bolted upright in bed. Everything had fallen to shit.
My hands bunched up my silk sheets, gripping hard. The morning birds kept chirping. I’d slept right through the Shift and I was grateful for the small reprieve. Mom called out from downstairs. She was leaving, but had left waffles in the kitchen. Sunday ritual.
I glanced around my same-as-always Wellesley bedroom.
Everything had gone wrong.
‘But not here,’ I whispered to myself. ‘Everything’s still okay – here.’
After staring into thin air for a while, routine kicked in. I got out of bed, showered and dressed.
I was downstairs, lost in thought and nibbling on cold waffles, when the sound of the doorbell almost made me fall off my kitchen stool.
Both hands on the front door, I peered around the small crack to find Dex wearing an eager smile on the other side.
‘You okay? You look like you expect someone to jump out of the bushes and attack?’ he joked.
He didn’t realise how right he was. With everything that had happened in my other life, it was exactly what part of me had expected. I tried to relax my stance and let the door drift open.
His eyes widened. ‘Woah! I mean, woah. Your hair! You look …’ He fumbled, something Dex, sporting god loved by all, did not do very often. ‘Hot.’
The corners of my mouth curled into a smile as I patted my newly blonde hair. ‘Thanks.’
‘No, I don’t think I’m being clear here. I mean, you look …’ And then his eyes travelled down my body and up again, and I knew exactly what he was thinking.
‘You’re being plenty clear, Dex,’ I said.
His gaze flicked back to mine sheepishly. ‘I really can’t wait until graduation. You and me, we’re so right together.’ He pulled me into his arms hungrily. ‘Everyone envies what we have.’
Something about what he said touched a nerve and I felt uncomfortable in his arms. And unsure why. In many ways it was true – Dex and I were a golden couple. Our friends all spoke about us as if we were perfect for each other. Even Dex’s controlling parents had given me the big tick of approval. Essentially we were a great fit, but the fact that it was so important to Dex that everyone knew it unsettled me.
But I didn’t want to upset anything in this world right now, so I planted a quick kiss on his lips before moving casually out of his hold.
‘I can’t wait for graduation either,’ I said with a small smile.
He closed the distance again. ‘You know, we don’t exactly have to. By the looks of it, your mom’s not at home.’ He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
In some ways, I agreed. I would have preferred less buildup around our ‘first time’ – just getting it over with seemed an easier option. But at the same time … I found myself smiling back at him and saying, ‘I’ve planned the whole night, Dex. It’s only days away. Patience.’
He bit his lower lip. I could see he wanted to argue, but the gentleman in him won out and he nodded. ‘I can be patient when I know what’s waiting at the end.’ A devilish smile played on his lips. ‘And anyway …’ he stepped back, putting a little air between us, for which I was grateful, ‘… I came to see if you wanted to see a movie in the city?’
My knees almost gave out under me. ‘The city … Boston?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, Sabine. The city. I know you don’t love going into Boston, but they have the best cinemas and I thought it would be nice to get out of Wellesley for the day. What do you say?’
I usually avoided city outings like the plague, preferring to dodge treading the streets of my other life. It felt wrong. On so many levels. One time curiosity had led me to the address of my other home, only to discover that while the house was still there, it wasn’t the same. Just like everything in my two worlds, it was similar and yet just slightly ‘off’. To start with, another family lived there, and they – or the previous owners – had attempted a side add-on. Since then, being anywhere near Roxbury unnerved me. I preferred to keep my two lives completely separate.
Dex watched me with a hopeful glint in his eyes. He would only pester me and ask questions if I refused, and I hadn’t been quick enough to blurt out an excuse. And besides all of that, I needed to do something that was normal. So I painted on a smile and said, ‘Sure. A movie sounds great.’
Dex had planned the whole day, parking in a garage and then walking us towards a French bistro where he’d already made a reservation. I tried not to let that irritate me and instead embrace the sweetness of the gesture, but for some reason I failed to gush very convincingly.
The bistro was named Le Bon Gout – Good Taste – and it was one of the most expensive lunch spots in Boston. Dex was out to impress.
We talked about our plans for the year ahead. About Harvard. Dex slipped in the idea of us getting a place together after freshman year. I tried to hide my frozen reaction – after all, it was the natural progression. One that I wanted. At least … I thought I wanted.
Lunch was delicious, both of us feasting on fish and sharing a crème brûlée for dessert. I smiled, even laughed, and desperately tried to ignore the thoughts that threatened to dominate my mind: the downfall of my other life, the sadness of knowing my parents hadn’t believed me, had not even given me the chance to explain.
I’d been locked away. And now I was polishing off crème brûlée.
The waiter came over and started to clear our plates.
‘Bonne?’ he asked.
I smiled. ‘Qui, merci. Tout était délicieux!’ I replied, the words rolling off my tongue.
The waiter’s eyes sparkled. ‘Votre accent est presque parfait,’ he said, complimenting my French.
My smile widened. ‘J’aime la langue. J’ai été l’apprentissage toute ma vie,’ I replied, telling the waiter that I loved the language and had been learning it my whole life.
He beamed in response. ‘Oui. Pas assez de gens réalisent les avantages de parler une autre langue. Vous pouvez prendre la compétence partout avec vous.’ He gave me a small bow even as I sat there, stunned by what he’d said.
The waiter turned to Dex. ‘Please excuse me. Your friend is very lovely and so few of our customers speak French so well.’
Dex didn’t look impressed. ‘Yeah. She’s amazing.’ His expression grew sour and even a touch threatening as he added, ‘And she’s my girlfriend.’ He passed the waiter money for the check.
The waiter smiled, unperturbed. ‘Of course.’ He glanced at me again and left the table.
‘What did he say?’ Dex asked, trying to hide his irritation at not knowing. But I couldn’t be bothered placating him.
‘He said it was such an advantage to know another language. That a person could take the skill anywhere once they had it.’ I stared into space.
The waiter was right. Languages could go anywhere.
For the life of me, I couldn’t say what movie Dex and I saw. I can’t remember watching any of it – I was too busy trying to stay afloat in my flooded mind. Dex didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he did and didn’t know what was wrong. Either way, he drove me home afterwards and I did my best to keep up with the small talk. By the time he pulled up in front of my house it was starting to get dark and I felt guilty that I hadn’t given him the kind of day, or attention,
he’d obviously envisaged.
He walked beside me, unusually silent, to the front door.
When I stopped and turned to him, he tilted his head. ‘Are you okay, Sabine?’
I nodded. ‘I’m fine. I just think I’m still a little tired after the party on Friday night and … I don’t know, nervous about graduation and finishing school.’
He exhaled. ‘Yeah. Change can be daunting. But there’s no point holding onto things just because it’s scary to take the leap and move on. Once people do, I figure they rarely look back. You just have to know when the time is right.’
The thing was, I totally agreed with what Dex was saying. I just didn’t know what that meant for me – or my lives.
I leaned in towards him and he responded, closing the distance and giving me a kiss. It lasted to second number eight before I morphed it into a hug.
‘On the other hand,’ Dex said cheekily, ‘sometimes it’s important to hold onto the good things. And you’re my good thing, Sabine. I’m never going to let you go. I’m looking forward to moving on … to our future. There are some things I’ll be more than happy for us both to say goodbye to.’
I was glad we were hugging so he couldn’t see me cringe. I knew he was talking about our ever-nearing graduation night; that this was his way of telling me he hadn’t done ‘it’ before. I’d generally figured that out for myself. We’d been together for two years and Dex wasn’t the type to cheat. He’d been understanding and patient and I wanted to give him all of me, but thoughts of us fumbling through our first time flashed into my mind and I felt my brow furrow. Then, out of nowhere, the image in my mind changed – the person in the image changed – surprising me.
I pushed the thought aside. That was not what I wanted. I don’t know how Ethan had wormed his way into my head, but he wasn’t going to stay there. He was not part of my plan – of any plan. Now, more than ever, I had to stay the course.
And that meant I had to finish the tests. There was no other option.
I pulled back from the embrace and looked into Dex’s eyes. ‘Me too,’ I said, because it was time to start saying goodbye to some things.
Between the Lives Page 8
