Page 77 of Quiet Obsession
Time passes while my thoughts spiral, body shaking with everything I’m holding back. I check my watch when it gets dark outside. Five hours. That’s how long I’ve been sitting here, unmoving. Hyde hasn’t left Millie’s room once. Not for food, not for water.
I rise to my feet, then navigate the hospital by instinct until Ifind a restaurant.
“Hey, what can I get you?” a young guy behind the counter asks. “We’re all out of soup, but there’s some meatloaf left.”
I doubt Hyde will stomach that. If he’s been surviving on scraps since his sister was admitted, he needs to start small.
“Two BLTs and two bottles of water,” I say.
Ten minutes later, I’m back in front of Millie’s door, knuckles rapping the hardwood, heart on my sleeve. Hyde opens, the same indifferent expression devastating his pale face.
“You need to eat,” I say, holding out the paper bag.
“I told you to leave.”
“And I didn’t listen.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, shouldn’t surprise me. I’m not hungry, Creed.”
“I know, but you can’t starve yourself.”
He stares at me—or maybe through me—either contemplating or frozen. Time stretches into a minute of silence before he takes the bag and closes the door.
Going back to the plastic chair, I eat my sandwich, wash it down with water, and... wait.
High-heeled footsteps break me out of my stupor sometime later. An elegantly dressed woman is walking down the corridor, a tall man at her side. He looks like Hyde, or rather, Hyde looks like him, so I guess that’s his father. They have the same nose, eyes, and build.
Neither acknowledge me in any way as they enter Millie’s room.
“How is she doing?” Hyde’s mother asks before the door’s fully closed, his reply cut off as it seals shut.
An hour later, the three of them exit when a nurse informs them visiting hours are over. Hyde’s eyes briefly land on me, but he doesn’t speak, following his parents down the corridor.
My stomach hollows out.
The pattern continues for days. I show up bright and early, and Hyde finds me outside his sister’s room when he arrives at nine am, the second visiting hours start. He takes the breakfast I bring for him without a word, and we spend the whole day together, separated by a wall.
I bring him a warm meal on day three, then extra snacks on day four. We don’t speak, and every time he looks at me it’s as if someone’s punched a hole through my chest and pulled my heart out.
Dash and Noah call me every few hours, even though I know nothing. By day three, it’s Noah who starts filling me in. He calls Hyde in the evenings and though there’s no improvement and Millie’s still in a coma, at least I’m somewhat in the loop.
My mind’s so numb it feels like I’ve repressed everything about me, and I’m just a corpse in a plastic chair, waiting for my best friend. He runs like a clock, always there at nine am sharp, and today’s no different. But when I hand him his breakfast through the door... he doesn’t close it.
It’s fucking pathetic how my heart rate soars.
Tentatively, I follow him in, my breath catching when I finally see his sister for the first time. She looks so fragile, the large bed somehow swallowing her whole, her pale, almost ashen skin thin, dark bruises under her eyes, even though she’s been in this bed for a week.
She doesn’t look comatose, simply asleep. Machines beep softlyaround her, her heart rate strong and steady. Hyde takes a seat beside her and covers her hand with his.
“Hey, sis,” he says, exhaling a long breath.
I’m rooted to the spot, my back parked against the door.
Hyde’s been a tower of strength since he walked into my life. Seeing him so vulnerable, shoulders slumped, not a trace of confidence left, is painful.
“She overdosed on sleeping pills,” he says quietly.
Noah already told me that. He didn’t saywhy. I swallow hard, pushing away from the door and carefully sitting on a small sofa by the window.
