Full Circle (Shattered Lives, Book Five)

by Rissa Blakeley

“How can I help you forgive yourself?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “What if I start by saying I love you?”

  Her words meant so much, his heart thundered as it raced. He wanted to give her back everything she gave to him, but he didn’t feel he was at that point in his life yet; however, he felt closer than ever.

  A small smile graced his lips. “You make me feel that way.”

  Sadness enveloped her eyes when his words registered. He watched her changing expression…lips pursing, eyebrows furrowing.

  She wanted to hear it back, feel it, explore all the wonders of love with him.

  “Will you ever be able to love me?” she whispered, feeling almost ashamed.

  “I’m getting there. I really am. I hope you can see I’m working hard at this relationship.”

  “I can.”

  “I know it’s taking forever, but it’s the path I’m on. I promise you. I just need to move slower than most.”

  “I know, although it’s difficult to accept.”

  Framing her face with his hands, he rubbed his thumbs over her bottom lip. “Just know that this is where I am. In this house with you and our children… Holding you in my arms… Desperate to share more.”

  “If you’re so desperate, why is it so hard?”

  “Because I’m a fucking scaredy-cat. There’s no other explanation. I’m terrified to allow myself to dive that deep again.”

  “It’s okay to be scared,” she said, positioning her hands on his hips. “Because I am, too. It makes me worried that somehow, some way, I will lose you. That alone makes me want to run, but I could never turn my back on you.”

  “And I could never turn my back on us.”

  “Thank God,” she whispered, staring up at him. She slipped her arms under his, resting her head on his chest as she embraced him. He dropped his face into her hair, inhaling, feeling her warmth.

  Chapter 6

  -East End of London-

  My eyelids fluttered open. All I saw was a haze and a blurry-faced person standing above me. It took a moment to realize they called my name. When it finally registered, I blinked a few times, hoping to clear my vision.

  “Luke?”

  “Huh…?” I rubbed at my eyes and squinted, the face becoming clearer. “Michelle?”

  “In the flesh.”

  I tried to move, but the extraordinary pain in my hip halted me. I sucked a hiss between my teeth. “Fucking hell…”

  “Take it easy. That sedative really knocked you out. It’s late…or really early, depending on your point of view. We’ll get you moving around and some food in your stomach, but I want to take your vitals first.”

  “What time is it?” I asked, my voice sounding scratchy.

  “After midnight.”

  “Then why are you here and not that other nurse?”

  “He’s working on getting a light meal together for you. Dr. Barter wanted us to wake you since you hadn’t on your own.”

  I pushed myself up against the head of the bed, trying to contain a painful groan. “Hope it’s not junk. I tend to eat clean.”

  “We have a fully-stocked kitchen,” she said, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around my bicep. She checked my pulse and took my temperature, looking unhappy with the readings once again. “I just don’t understand this.” She shook her head and logged the information in my chart. As she flipped through the documents within the folder, she chewed her thumbnail, leaving me curious about what was in there.

  “Can I see?”

  She snapped the folder closed when I reached for it. “No. Let’s get you up and moving around. Sound good?”

  I gave her a curious stare, wondering what they had written down. “I guess.”

  Michelle dropped the side rail on the bed and held out her hand. “Slow and easy.” I swung my legs over the edge, which left me damn near breathless. “Take your time.”

  Sliding forward, I tested my legs with some of my weight. “Yeah. This should be fun,” I said, cringing as I pushed myself up. Once I was off the bed, she wrapped her arm around my waist.

  “This okay with you?”

  “What?”

  “Me touching you?”

  “Yeah… Whatever.”

  Gradually, we took a lap around the room. The farther I walked, the more limber and confident I felt.

  “Let’s have a seat,” Michelle said, waving toward the bed.

  “Can’t I walk on the treadmill? I haven’t worked out in a while.”

  “No. I don’t want you overdoing it.”

  I sighed, then muttered, “I’ve spent my life overdoing it.”

  “Well, your job here is to allow us to take care of you.” I sat on the edge of the mattress, my gaze tracking to the heavy bag, as if it were a long-lost lover. “After you eat, Joseph can monitor you while you walk a short distance on the treadmill, but that is all. Anything more is not recommended.”

  “Fine,” I grumbled.

  “Stubborn?” she asked, her hands on her hips.

  “Always. Count on me being miserable, too.”

  She had the nerve to roll her eyes at me.

  “Anyway, lie back and relax until Joseph gets here. The remote for the TV is on your nightstand, as well as an e-Reader.”

  “E-Reader? I specifically asked for books.”

  “Umm… You can get books. It’s the same thing.”

  “Not really,” I grumbled. “Besides, you can’t turn pages.”

  She sighed and picked up the gadget, turning it on. Shoving it in front of my face, she tapped on the first book in the queue. “Look.” She swiped her finger across the screen. “Page-turning animation. It’s magical.”

  I glared at her and snatched it out of her hand. “I know how to use one. I bought one for my wife. I hate it. It’s not a book. I like holding one, turning the pages…sniffing them, if I choose.”

  “Really?” She shifted her weight to one hip and crossed her arms, glaring at me.

  I held her angry stare. “Yeah… Really.”

  “I will admit, I prefer actual books myself, but this is a good alternative while you’re here.”

  “Well, I hate it.” I tossed it back on the nightstand.

  “You’re something else.”

  I tapped my finger on my chin. “I suppose I am, hence why I’m in this fucking prison with all you little rays of sunshine.”

  She clenched her jaw, the muscle visibly ticking. “Before I lose my patience, I am leaving. Joseph will be in with your meal soon.” She walked toward the door.

  “What if he tries to poison it?” She spun around, jaw open. “What? If you knew my past, you’d know it’s a valid fear.”

  “You’re a knob. Plain and simple. Dr. Barter will be here in the morning.” She turned back around and pressed her finger to the print reader. When the door opened, she mumbled something and walked through, sealing me in with my sparkling personality.

  The urge to destroy something ramped up in my body. Even my hands trembled a little. It was like hundreds of spiders crawling through my veins, making me want to scratch away the creepy-crawly tickle.

  As the whispers and chuckles in my head changed to something more like shouting and hysterical laughter, I remembered why I was in the death chamber.

  The more I thought, the more agitated I felt.

  The nurse was spot-on, but chipperness, gracious smiles, and high-fives never made me happy. My life wasn’t cupcakes, sparkly rainbows, and unicorns. It never was and never would be. I was born into this epic bullshit, so I not only felt dejected, I was full of ire.

  How the fuck did the universe collide with Satan, aligning the stars, allowing that cocksucking sonofabitch to spread his seed?

  Mum and I never talked too much about Roger. Even just a little chat here and there got my hackles up. I didn’t understand why she had a child with him. She should have aborted me.

  At this point, there was no way I could fake happiness like I did with Elaina. I was done with a
ll the acting. Done with pretending the voices weren’t there. Done with everything.

  I wanted freedom. Fucking hell, even just a little sanity would be nice.

  Exhaling a loud sigh, I adjusted the blankets so they were relatively straight. I thought about trying the e-Reader, but something else caught my eye.

  The drawer to the nightstand was open a bit, the video camera visible. I stared at it for a while, contemplating what I would even say. The whole purpose of making a video diary was to prove, if I got home, I was telling the truth.

  I snatched it out of the drawer and messed around with it until I figured out how it worked. When I turned it on myself and hit the RECORD button, I felt lost in a sea of untruths and despair.

  At first, I couldn’t even look at the camera. It were as if I couldn’t face my own reality. I bit down on my lip a few times before my mouth could form any words.

  “I don’t even know what to say.” Finally, I found my bollocks and looked at the camera. “I didn’t leave because of you. I’m sorry it happened the way it did, but it was the only way. Erik offered a cure, but only gave me a fifty-fifty chance of survival, which wasn’t enough for me to tell you what was going on. I know you would’ve said no anyway. The notes in my journal… I wrote them as if I had died because, well…it’s a strong possibility.

  “I’m scared, terrified I’m going to wind up on the wrong side of that fifty percent.

  “This is just as hard on me as it is on you. I’m exhausted, Elaina. So fucking tired of everything. I wish you could hear everything that goes on in my head because you would then understand why I did it.”

  I paused, staring into the lens. “I heard you scream. I was in the woods.”

  I turned my head away again, fighting the welling emotions. When I found the bollocks to face the camera once more, the emptiness in the pit of my stomach swallowed me whole.

  “I’d much rather you think I’m dead than have to deal with me anymore. It’ll be easier on all of you if you didn’t have to worry about my welfare a moment longer.”

  I shut the blasted thing off, dropped it back into the drawer, and slipped down into the bedding with a grimace, hoping I would just sleep through everything they wanted to do to me.

  Standing in the foyer for a moment, Michelle wanted to go back into the room and scream at Luke until he understood she was there to help him. Her composure was rattled, frayed. He was so obnoxious, she could hardly stand him for another moment. What she really wanted to do was punch him once, maybe a dozen times, but violence was not part of her character.

  She dropped the chart into the slot next to the door and touched the print reader. Once it opened to the lab, she let out a loud sigh.

  Tess looked up from the microscope. “Everything good on Planet Luke?” she asked.

  “Yeah, just bloody great,” Michelle muttered.

  Tess spun on the stool and looked at her. “Is he being a jackoff?”

  Michelle let out a sad chuckle. “That’s a mild way of putting it.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Why doesn’t he understand we are here to help him? He’s miserable and stubborn.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Michelle shook her head. “Because he’s a man,” Tess said.

  “Right. That explains a lot.” She rolled her eyes.

  “If he causes you too much grief, I’ll go in there. He wouldn’t want to mess with me.” A devious grin spread across Tess’s face.

  Curious as to what she was suggesting, Michelle decided to end the conversion. “Anyway… I’m exhausted. See you later.”

  “Buh-bye, sweet Michelle,” Tess said, waving her fingers.

  She rushed out of the lab. “Why does everyone seem so…mental?” she whispered as she walked to the elevator.

  Chapter 7

  Erik waited in his office for Dr. Barter, PJ, and Michelle. He wanted to discuss getting Luke down to the imaging room. In addition, he needed to fill them in on the truth…well, the partial truth about Luke’s particular virus. He hoped he wouldn’t lose their trust. He knew he’d have to word it in such a way they wouldn’t question too much.

  After the doctor walked in and sat in the chair across from Erik’s desk, he checked his watch three times, his knee bouncing impatiently. “Are they always this punctual?”

  A frown crossed Erik’s features. He shoved his glasses back up when they descended his hooked nose. “They’ll be here.”

  Just then, Michelle walked in, stopping in the doorway, feeling the brooding stare Dr. Barter threw in her direction. “Sorry if I’m…” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the time. “Right on the button,” she said, throwing back a stare just as brooding, if not more so.

  The doctor rolled his eyes and sighed before folding his hands in his lap. “What’s going on? I’d like to get him scanned right away. I don’t like some of the details in his chart.”

  Erik sat forward, placing his elbows on the desk, folding his hands. “As you may have already experienced, he isn’t exactly stable mentally. He plays it tight, acts as if he’s fine, but all the while he’s…to be frank…a nutter.”

  “Luckily, I can help with that.” Michelle jumped, hearing PJ speak behind her. She shifted over to allow him some space in the doorway. “What’s going on?”

  “Some transparency.” Erik sighed.

  “Should Joseph and Tess be present?” Michelle asked.

  “No. Tess knows what I’m about to say, and I’ll get Joseph up to speed before his shift starts tonight.” He stared at the rest of the team, knowing he just needed to say it, but with carefully chosen words. “Luke’s illness is a different strain than what’s out there. It’s more potent. That’s one reason I wanted to treat him in containment.”

  “How is his much worse?” Michelle asked.

  Prepared for the possibility of questions, Erik said, “I compared his blood samples to the data from other previous samples. It showed some alarming results. We need to do a brain scan, but I really don’t think he’ll take it well.”

  “You’ll be moving him out of his room?” PJ asked, frowning. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll run?”

  “Nope,” Erik replied, smirking. “He can’t run.”

  PJ frowned. “Fill me in. I’m a bit lost.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. He’s not leaving this facility.”

  “Besides the print readers on all the doors down here, what’s to stop him?” Michelle asked.

  “I activated the ones I had installed on all the entry and exit points.” Dr. Barter, PJ, and Michelle all focused on Erik, who lifted his hands as he shrugged. “What? Your prints will work.”

  “I hope that’s the case,” Michelle muttered.

  “Like you have anything else going on, Ms. Fogerty,” Dr. Barter said under his breath.

  Her jaw dropped, but before she could toss out an equally belittling remark, Erik cleared his throat. “Anyway, I have a feeling he will react poorly over the idea of a scan. So let’s start with you…” He pointed at Dr. Barter, “explaining to him why he needs it.”

  “And if he declines?” he asked.

  Erik smiled. “Sedate him.” The doctor returned the same scheming smile. “Michelle and I will retrieve a gurney from the clinic and wait in the foyer. If he gets a little combative, which is highly likely, just hit the call button. We’ll come in and hold him down so you can jab him.”

  “Solid plan,” Dr. Barter said.

  “I’d prefer to try a gentler approach,” PJ offered.

  Michelle nodded, pointing her thumb toward the psychiatrist. “I’m with him.”

  Turning to face the nurse, Erik said, “You don’t know him like I do, Michelle. He has a hair trigger. As you noted on his chart, he can be angry. We need to plan so when he gets like that, we can be prepared. Once his anger reaches its peak, he can be unpredictable.”

  “Right,” Michelle said. “Maybe we should grab Joseph and Tess, as well, just in case.”

  “I feel the fewer people we have
going at him, the less intimating we’ll seem.”

  “I’ll up the dose on the sedative. If I have to jab him, he’ll be a sloppy mess in seconds.”

  “I really think you should consider a less traumatic approach,” PJ reaffirmed.

  Erik stood. “I think we’re good. Let’s get it done.”

  Dr. Barter stood and pushed between Michelle and PJ. After Erik signaled for her to go ahead, he followed right behind, leaving PJ alone, standing still, wondering what type of elaborate scheme the scientist had tied him up with.

  As the nurse promised, Dr. Barter strolled into my death chamber, chart in hand. My lip twitched, fighting a snarl. I rolled my eyes at the high-and-mighty swagger he wore like snakeskin. This bloke was a total douche, making me want to throttle him.

  “Good morning, Mr. Richards,” he said, not even taking his eyes off my chart.

  “Luke,” I corrected, doing my best not to jump up and beat the bloody piss out of him.

  A loud cackle echoed in my head. I tried to suppress a shudder, but I lost complete control and a portion of it leaked out, making my muscles twitch.

  “Mr. Richards,” he replied.

  “Whatever you want to call me, Doc. Let’s get on with this. What are we doing today?”

  He looked up at me and stared for several long, drawn-out seconds. His brand of intimidation was dull and uneventful. The last thing I would do was give Dr. Twat any leverage. I had enough to contend with in my head already.

  “I scheduled a brain scan for you this morning. I want to see what damage, if any, the virus has done to your brain.”

  My mouth dropped open as I sat forward. “I’m sorry. What was that? Did you say brain damage?”

  “You heard me correctly, Mr. Richards. I looked through the documentation, from the past to Mr. Carlson’s findings and your current levels. A few things made me curious, so I feel a quick scan would be helpful for determination. Throughout treatment, we will scan you on a regular basis to track any changes the anti-serum brings.”

  I lay back and muttered, “Perfect. So how will we be doing this?”

  He scoffed as if I were some sort of idiot. When I narrowed my eyes, he said, “An MRI, of course.”