Page 76 of Quiet Obsession
“Is she—” I swallow hard. “Did she make it?”
“Yeah, but she’s in a bad shape. They pumped her stomach and they’re keeping her sedated, but...”
“Butwhat?”
“Hyde’s in fucking pieces, Creed.”
***
The scent of disinfectant permeates the air, doing a lousy job of covering up the stench of death, illness, and decay.
I don’t mind hospitals. When you visit them as often as I do, you learn to block out what they represent.
Everyone thinks it’s life and health, but it’s the exact opposite. I try not to allow my thoughts to wander down that avenue, but tonight, I’m not scared of dying. I’m fucking scared to my bones, dreading the hatred, fear, and helplessness in Hyde’s eyes.
He hadn’t said it aloud, But the implication of his words rang loud and clear. He’s blaming this on me. I get it. If he hadn’t driven me to the hospital, hadn’t sat at my bed, pouring his care and attention into showing me I matter, while I acted like a selfish asshole, he would’ve answered his phone.
The corridor stretches ahead, so long it feels like I’ll never reach her room. Hyde wouldn’t tell Noah or Dash which hospitalhis sister was at. He didn’t want them to visit, but he must’ve forgotten he’s been sharing his phone’s location with me for years.
I glance at the screen, following the dot with a bigHinside. He’s at the end of this corridor. Other than the life-preserving machines beeping inside every room I pass, it’s almost fucking silent.
Nothing like the ER, filled with people grunting, yelling, arguing, and crying. There’s a sense of life there. Here, everything’s still, conversations hushed so as not to disturb the patients.
I pause outside door 312, inhaling a deep, steadying breath that does fuck all to ease even an ounce of the tension coiling inside me. My hands shake, my heart thuds, and my head throbs, but I swallow it down and rap my knuckles against the hardwood.
For a few long seconds, nothing happens. Then the door glides open to reveal my best friend’s harrowed face. He looks like a ghost. Dark bruises under his pink-rimmed eyes, cheeks sunken, lips bitten raw. His shoulders are slumped as if there’s an impossible weight on top of them. He looks at me through glassy, hazy eyes, no emotion save for all-encompassing grief.
“How’s she doing?” I ask, my heart in my throat.
“Still unconscious.”
“How are you doing?”
His throat bobs with a hard swallow, eyes watering before he blinks it away, hardening his features. “Leave, Creed.”
I expected that. I expected worse, but Hyde’s so devastated I doubt he has room for anything else.
“You don’t have to talk to me,” I say. “But I’m not leaving.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want you here. Leave.”
The door closes in my face and I’d be lying if I said something hasn’t fractured inside me. It feels like my world is shifting, fucking shrinking.
Being unwanted isn’t unusual, but it hurts ten times more when it’s my fault. Hyde’s been by my side for years, no matter what. He stayed, helped, and started healing parts of me I thought were beyond repair. He’s never made me feel like a burden... until now.
I deserve this. I know I do, but fuck, it hurts.
I stand there, my head pulsing with a headache from bottling up my negative feelings so they won’t drag me under. I’m shaking with the need to let them out, grab the first guy who looks at me the wrong way, and let my fists do the talking.
The numbness spreading through me makes me want to tear my hair out while I climb the walls.
Unsticking my feet from the floor, I sit on the plastic chair by the wall, elbows on my knees, face hidden in my hands.
I could leave. Hyde sure wants me to. He fucking expects me to cause more trouble. Fuck knows I want to, but this is my chance to show him he means as much to me as I used to mean to him.
He needs to know he can count on me, and I need to know that too. I need proof that I’m not a trainwreck through and through, that I’m worth more than bruises and a hangover.
Worthy of his friendship.
