by K. L. Savage
Slingshot gathers the two boys and ushers them down the hall where the gym is. Tank follows, along with Braveheart. Bullseye still has a tight grip on my arms, but he doesn’t need to worry about holding me.
“Sarah,” I crawl toward her just as Doc squats and evaluates her.
“Don’t move the knife. I need it to stay inside. It’s helping her not to bleed out.”
“Not bleed out! Look at the blood. She is bleeding out. I can’t lose her, Doc; I can’t lose her. Please,” Reaper begs, and the only time I ever see the Prez tear up is when Sarah’s life is jeopardized. “Save her.”
Doc slides his arms under her and stands, disappearing down the steps where his operating room is.
Reaper is on the ground, sliding his hand through the blood on the floor. Her blood. It’s the first time I feel sick at the sight of it. I want to puke.
“If she dies, I’ll kill you, Tongue.” Reaper’s cold eyes land on me and fear seeps into my core. I’m not afraid of anything, but right now, I have every reason to be. “I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to your fucking swamp kitties. You hear me, Tongue?”
“I didn’t know. I-I didn’t know it was her. I thought…”
“I don’t give a fuck what you thought!” Reaper launches himself at me, wrapping his blood-soaked hands around my throat and squeezing.
“Get off him, Reaper! He didn’t know. It’s our fault. It’s our fault. Doc told us to stop,” Tool tries to pull the Prez off me with his good arm, but it isn’t enough. I’m not going to fight Reaper to survive.
“He was in a flashback; it was an accident,” Bullseye defends me.
“Don’t,” I wheeze through choked and broken breaths. “Make … excuses.” I cough, letting my hands fall to the floor in defeat.
“No.” Poodle opens a journal and shoves it in Reaper’s face. “Let him go.” Poodle comes to my defense.
Reaper stares at the journal and let’s go of my neck, snatching it from Poodle’s hand. The blood from his fingers transfers to the paper, and a tear falls down his cheek. “Go to her,” Reaper says, laying the journal flat against my chest. “I don’t want you here for a while. When you come back, you’ll get your punishment.”
I’ll take whatever he decides to give me.
I deserve it after that. There is no forgiveness in killing my best friend.
I’ll go.
And this time, I won’t come back.
“Daphne? Daphne? Oh my god, thank goodness you’re awake. I’ve been worried sick,” my Aunt Tina says, sitting next to the hospital bed and waking me up by brushing my hair. It takes me a minute to realize where I am. “I got on the first flight I could when the hospital called me. I can’t believe someone broke into your apartment. They said the stress made you have one of your episodes. Are you okay, sweetie? Any more hallucinations since last night?”
I rub my eyes, blinking away the sleep, and sit up. The mattress is hard and uncomfortable. “I don’t think so. I feel a lot better. They must have given me medication this morning.” The sun is shining in the room, illuminating all the shadows, and Tongue isn’t there. “I need to call the bookstore and tell Andrew what happened.”
“He knows. He’s already been by. He left you flowers. He’s a handsome guy. Is he the one that you’ve been … you know,” Aunt Tina wiggles her eyebrows and nudges my arm with her elbow.
“No, Aunt Tina. Andrew is a great boss, but he is … boring.”
Aunt Tina’s hands hold mine, and she pats them in concern. “Sweetie, you need boring. I’m worried about you. Your psychosis—”
“Is fine. It’s under control. A lot happened out of the norm yesterday, and lately in general. I’ve been under more stress. I’m okay. I promise.”
“I’m going to stay.” Aunt Tina stands and walks toward the window, spreading the curtains apart to allow more sunlight in. “You need me here, and you aren’t going back to that damn apartment of yours. You can forget that. That fucking freak. I swear, they better find the guy who did that. What if he’s following you?”
Then I guess I’m screwed.
“Tina Mullins?” a nurse stops in the doorway, holding a clipboard. “We have a few questions about insurance.”
“Sure,” Aunt Tina tells her, straightening her spine. Her brown hair is over her shoulder in a long braid, and she gives me a sweet smile. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.” She pats my ankle, then gives me a wink. “Maybe there are some single hot doctors out there.” She tugs the front of her shirt down so more of her cleavage shows. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.” I give her two thumbs-up. Only she would be on the prowl while I’m in the damn hospital. I don’t know how to tell her that I don’t want to stay with her. The last thing I want is to be kicked out of my apartment, my home. I moved to Vegas to prove to my dad that I can live a normal life with my… issue.
I hate being reminded of my psychosis. My mental illness was at its worst when I was a teenager, but as I got older and accepted my fate, the doctors put me on medication, and I’ve lived a great life. There are good days and bad days just like with anything, and lately things have been amazing, until Tongue.
I rub my temples, annoyed at myself. It has to be my psychosis. I never see him out in the light and during the day except for that one time. One time is all it took for him to set his boughs in my mind, anchoring himself to my psyche.
I’m not having an episode.
Tongue is my psychotic break, and the longer I live without him, the worse the break gets.
“Are you ready?” Aunt Tina struts into the room, her black high heels clicking against the floor. “I brought you a change of clothes. Don’t worry. You’ll be out of that hospital gown in no time.” She checks her watch as if she’s about to be late for something and helps me stand. I hate feeling like a burden. It’s one of the main reasons I moved away from my dad. I’ve always been a burden because of my psychosis.
You know what? None of this would have happened if I’d never met Tongue. I wouldn’t be questioning myself. My home would be safe. I wouldn’t be in this damn hospital, and what’s even worse is I wouldn’t be angry anymore if he just showed up and stayed.
“Hey, why the sad face? It’s going to be okay. If you want, we will get you some help if you’re not feeling like yourself.”
I hold onto her shoulder as she tugs the sweatpants up my swollen knee. “No, I’m fine. Just tired. I’m ready to go back to sleep. You don’t have to worry about me, you know. If you have somewhere to be, go. I’ll be fine once I’m in the house.” I switch hands and press my weight against her other shoulder while she pulls my pants up and secures them around my hips.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to take care of you. You’re my favorite person in the world. I know I’m not here all the time, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
I whip my head back and stare at her openmouthed, but she can see my face since she’s pulling a shirt over my head. “I know that. I love you too. I’m saying don’t feel obligated. I’m a grown woman. I don’t have a huge handicap. I feel like you think I’m incapable, and I’m not.”
“I know. I just worry about you; that’s all.”
I slide my flip flops on and stare into the corner one last time as I slip on my cardigan. It’s cold in the hospital.
Or maybe Tongue brings winter, freezing life around me as I wait for him to come back to me. The corner is lonely, and I wait for my mind to conjure him up, but he isn’t there. No matter how hard I try to focus, his darkness isn’t here.
The nurse rolls in a wheelchair, and I sit down, the leather seat giving under my weight. Aunt Tina pats my arm, strolls over to the nurse outside of the door, and they share whispers. I try to listen, but I can’t hear any words. I know what she’s talking to the nurse about, and I’m worried Aunt Tina is going to suggest that I get committed for a few weeks.
I swear, if she does that, I’ll never forgive her.
; “Okay, are you ready?” She gives me a big, bright smile, her dimples peeking out on either side of her cheeks.
“I was ready yesterday.” I’m willing to do anything to get me out of this room.
The corners are haunted, and yet the ghost isn’t here.
“I bet. Hospitals are a drag,” she says, wheeling me down the hallway. “Want to have some fun?” she leans down and whispers in my ear.
“Always,” I say out of the side of my mouth, keeping a smile on my face as doctors give us curious looks.
She speeds up her pace. We pass nurses, and one doctor jumps out of our way, dropping a medical chart. Aunt Tina doesn’t apologize. She’s running now, and if she lets go of the wheelchair, I’m going to go flying.
“Hey! You can’t do that here,” an overweight security guard yells at us as we zoom by him.
“Oh, crap. He’s running after us!” Aunt Tina screeches, and right as we make it out of the double doors of the hospital, the roaring grumbles of Harley Davidsons have me searching the parking lot.
I’m searching for a speck of chrome, the shine of smooth black, a man in leather, but too many cars are in the way.
“That was fun…” Aunt Tina slows down, gasping for air.
“Hey! We need that wheelchair back,” the security guard shouts at us as he leans against a supportive white beam. He holds his side from a cramp, and even from the parking lot, I can see the sweat shining on his bald forehead.
“Oh, right.” Aunt Tina rolls her eyes. “They act like they don’t have plenty of these pieces of crap. I mean look, the wheel is fucking rusted. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.” She holds up her finger to the guard, telling him to hold on a moment. “Sorry, I need to get my injured niece into the car. It will only take a moment.” She fishes for the keys in her blue tote and points the black key fob to her Lexus. The clicks tell me the car is unlocked, and Aunt Tina opens the passenger side door for me. She lifts me up and supports me as I stand. My hand grabs the plastic ‘oh-shit’ handle to pull myself into the seat. “I’m going to roll that security guard over with this damn wheelchair.”
“Aunt Tina!” I scold her and click my seatbelt in place.
“What? He was rushing us. I don’t like to be rushed.” She shuts the door, and I watch out the window as she approaches the guard who is now sitting on the curb. “Yoo-hoo! Mr. Security Guard.” She waves at him, hiking her purse up on her shoulder.
“She’s impossible,” I mumble under my breath.
“You want your wheelchair? Go fucking get it, dick!”
She pushes the chair, and it rolls away from us and even farther away from the guard. He stands and runs after it, his pants falling down his ass, showing the top of his butt crack.
Aunt Tina spins around, dark hair flowing over her shoulders, and her plump lips spread into a wicked grin. She dusts off her hands. “All in a day’s work.”
“You’re horrible,” I mouth from inside the car.
She shrugs, uncaring, and walks around to get into the driver’s seat. That’s when my eyes catch a sea of black entering the hospital. I sit forward, staring straight ahead to see if I can recognize any of the men, but all I see before the automatic doors close is the skull.
“What is it? Did you forget something?” Aunt Tina asks as she starts the car by pressing a single red button.
“No, I just thought I saw someone I knew. It’s nothing.”
“Oh, okay. As long as you’re sure,” she says as she backs out of the parking space, then puts the car in drive.
I lay my head against the window, the warmth of the sun teasing the glass. It makes me sleepy. The flowers Andrew bought me sit in my lap, and as I stare at them, I wish they were from Tongue.
A man who doesn’t exist.
I rub a rose petal with my thumb, and my brows crease when I see a black card nestled in the roses. That’s not like Andrew. Red and black are too gloomy for him. He’d never choose those colors. He likes muted tones, beige, brown, navy blue, things like that. I pinch it off the tiny piece of clear plastic and open the small envelope. I inch the card out and grin when I see the simple statement.
“I’m always watching you.”
It’s Tongue.
I know it is.
Tucking the card back in the envelope, I shove the sleek, expensive paper in my pocket and let my eyes fall closed. The flowers smell sweeter now that I know they are from Tongue. I’m happier. This makes him real. I’m not imagining him. My psychosis isn’t messing with me. The last episode I can remember having is five years ago where I was speaking incoherently. My aunt couldn’t understand what I was saying, and I pointed to the ceiling, trying to talk about the stars shining, but apparently, that wasn’t what I said.
Psychosis wasn’t always a part of who I was. I used to be normal, but trauma affects everyone differently, and for me, sometimes I lose touch with reality. Sometimes, it isn’t so bad. Whatever my mind decides to conjure up can be a vacation from real life. I’ve never imagined something violent. It’s almost as if I ate a bunch of pot brownies, and my mind goes on a trip.
What’s the trauma?
I wish I knew.
No one seems to know. The doctor says my brain is blocking it out, so I can live a normal life.
If he calls psychosis normal…
The car comes to a slow stop, and in the distance, I think I hear the snarling of a motorcycle, but when I peer over my shoulder to see out of the back window, there’s nothing there.
Nothing ever is.
Nothing ever will be.
Then I stare at the roses and know I have to be wrong.
“Okay, we are here,” Aunt Tina says as she parks in her driveway.
It’s been a while since I’ve been here, but I’m still blown away by how large the house is. It’s a Spanish style home, white with dark red shutters. A bunch of cacti lines her sidewalk, and she has a koi pond in her yard since she can’t grow grass. The bench is still there, and I grin knowing my initials are still carved in the wood from when I was seventeen.
“For someone who lives on their own, I still don’t understand the massive house, Aunt Tina.”
“Well, maybe I won’t always be alone. Maybe I’ll have my own harem of hot, sexy men, and they will need rooms, right?” she teases, giving me a wink before she exits the car.
“She’s a mess.” I follow her with my eyes as she rounds the car and opens the door. Her hands are cold as she helps me up and out of the low Lexus. The air is sticky with humidity, and the sun is no longer shining because it has been replaced with gray skies promising rain.
It hasn’t rained in the desert in a while. We need it.
“Come on. Let’s get you set up in bed, and you can get some rest. I need to call the cop who came by the hospital. He said he needed to speak to you. Officer … Hod … something,” Aunt Tina informs me, wrapping her arm around my waist to take the brunt of my weight.
“Hodder? He was the cop that found me at the bottom of the steps.”
“He’s handsome.”
“You think everyone is handsome.”
“Hey, when you get to be my age, you can’t be picky.”
“You’re young, Aunt Tina,” I remind her. She’s only in her forties.
“Yeah, but these boobs aren’t getting any higher.”
“Wha…” I stop walking and stare at her in shock, then burst out laughing. “You’re too much, Aunt Tina.”
“You love me.”
“If only I had better judgment.”
“Brat. You can help yourself to the bed.” She lets go of me, and I teeter, grasping tight to the vase, so the flowers don’t spill.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I chuckle, reaching out to her before I fall over and bruise my other knee.
With a loving smile, she helps me to the guest bedroom on the main floor. I slide my bad leg across the beautiful oak floors, and when we get to the teal door, I hold my breath thinking I’m about to see a whole new world. I get
that way every time I enter the guest bedroom. The hinges squeak as the door flings open, and I hop away from Aunt Tina’s tight grip and cold hands, place the vase on the nightstand, then plop on the bed.
“It’s like floating on a cloud,” I say.
She fluffs a few pillows and stuffs them under my leg to keep it elevated, then pulls the fluffy comforter up and over my body, tucking it under my chin. She sits on the edge of the bed and traces the bruises on my forehead gently. Tears swarm her eyes, and I reach up and take her hand in mine.
“I’m okay.”
“I know,” she looks down, then away. She focuses out the window and presses my hand against her cheek. “You’re all I have. I worry about you. And now…” She sniffles and let’s go of my hand to wipe under her eyes. “Look at me; I’m a mess.” She bends down and kisses me on the cheek. “Get some rest, okay? If you need me, scream. The walls are thick. I won’t be able to hear you.”
“I’ll text you instead. Okay?”
She nods, still trying to hold herself together. She still won’t look at me.
“I love you, Aunt Tina. Thank you.”
“I love you too, Daphne. Your mom would have been very proud of you.”
I don’t talk about my mom. She killed herself when I was eight-years-old, and I don’t know why. She’s the one topic I never want to talk about. “I’m really tired. I think I’m going to go to bed.”
Aunt Tina wants to say more, but she knows better. I’ll get angry talking about my mom, and I don’t have the energy to be mad.
“Sure. Sleep well, sweetie.” Aunt Tina presses a kiss on my cheek and gently closes the door behind her.
I let out a huge breath, tuck my hands under my cheek, and stare at the roses on the nightstand.
Roses are red…
The note I was left enters my mind as I stare at the vibrant red petals and bright green stems. The beauty is a contradiction to the painful thorns decorating the side. So enthralling with the rich color, yet so daring. A droplet of water pops on a thorn as it tries to drip, proving the danger that resides in such an elegant flower.
They remind me of someone.
