Page 107 of Rise Above

“Yes, I’m Dr. Bowie.”

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I didn’t

comment as he walked me to her room. We made no idle chatter because none was needed. I only needed to see Aife,

230

Rise Above

make sure she was even slightly okay. Bowie stopped and motioned at her door before walking off.

Taking a deep breath, I entered her room. Aife

looked exhausted. Dark circles sat under her eyes and lines of worry laid between her brows. About a dozen IV lines seemed to come out of her body, yet she still managed to send a weak smile my way. Her face was pale, a bandage on her forehead. The smile on her face was weak, watery.

“Sorry for ruining your comeback game.” Her voice

cracked, like she was about to cry. My heart lurched painfully at her tone.

“No.” I immediately sat on her bed, gently grabbing

her hand. “No, darling. Fuck no. You didn’t ruin a damn thing.” My throat grew tight as I realized I was about to cry. “I’m just glad you’re alive, baby.”

“But—”

“No. Stop.” I pressed a kiss to the hand I was

holding. Her hands were so cold, freezing against my palm. “We aren’t even gonna discuss it.”

Her hazel eyes connected with mine. So many

emotions swarmed and swirled in those eyes. I could practically see her thoughts swimming in her head. Aife was nervous, but it was deeper than that. I slowed my breathing, forcing myself to calm so she felt safe.

“That doctor said you wanted to see me.” She nodded before swallowing hard. Gently, she

pulled her hand away from mine. A pang of pain wracked my chest. I blinked so the tears wouldn’t spill down my

231

Rise Above

cheeks. My heart cracked, splitting my chest similarly to when my dad died. It was a pain I wanted to push away.

“Yeah, we need to have a serious conversation. I

think it’s time we are truly and fully open with one another. You know? Get it all out on the table.” Her voice was small, pained. Her eyes didn’t meet mine, her body pulled away against the far side of the bed.

I wasn’t entirely sure what she was trying to get at,

so I merely nodded. My eyes refused to look at her face, so they pinged around the room. And that’s when I noticed it. Aife always wore long sleeves. Always. Here in the hospital, she wore a gown with short sleeves.

Tattoos lined her arms. Words, pictures, and colors

swirled her arms in beautiful and intricate patterns. They were so different than my black and white ones. But, I noticed something else too. Thick, pink marks marred her skin—vertical lines. Each forearm bore the mark. My face fell, tears welling in my eyes again... and that ache in my chest fully cracked.

It was apparent what Aife had done—Aife had tried

to kill herself. Why? What could possibly have made her consider death? My eyes couldn’t leave those scars. Was she still suicidal?