Emerald

My eyelids flutter open, and immediately I throw my arm over them, blocking out the bright sunlight streaming into the hospital room.

Adjusting my vision, I glance around to see nothing but white walls, a TV on the wall, and a chair. A bedside table is filled with vases of roses and tulips.

I’m lying on the comfortable hospital bed and an IV drip is attached to my foot. My brows furrow as I slowly rise to study it, but then shrug. Maybe they couldn’t find an appropriate vein in my arm.

Either way, I don’t care. I’ve spent so much time in hospitals during my life I’ve gotten used to all the needles and the effects after them. But then I notice something else.

Or rather someone else.

Eve is half lying on the bed, snoring loudly, and I chuckle before lightly shaking her. She swiftly wakes, sitting up straight, and rasping, “I’m awake, I’m awake!” But then her eyes widen when I give her a tentative smile, even though I feel like dying inside.

But I can’t reveal the truth in front of her.

In front of anyone really, because then they’ll surround me with pity. I know them well. But I intend to break the Karpman triangle and not be a victim anymore, or rescuer, or persecutor.

And for that, I need to deal with my pain on my own. “Hey, sleepy head,” I murmur.

Tears erupt from her as she wraps her hands around me, saying quickly, “I’m so glad you woke up!” She leans back and palms my face. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been through hell?”

She laughs through the tears, quickly wiping them away. “Sounds about right.” She presses the red button above my head on the bed, and a nurse comes in, holding a pad in her hand. “What happened?”

“She’s awake. Could you please call the doctor?”

“Of course!” She rushes out, and Eve tensely touches my cheek.

“Emerald—”

“It’s okay,” I reply, willing all my strength to help me live and breathe through this. “There’s no need to… there’s just no need.”

“I don’t think you—” she starts, but the doctor comes in, interrupting whatever she has to say.

“Happy to see you awake, Emerald.” He walks toward me, and Eve steps away, giving him room to lean over me. He flashes a light in my eyes while he checks them, and then his fingers hold the pen and shift it from side to side, while he says, “All reactions are good, stats are good.” He leans back and quickly writes something on the iPad in his hands, and then he grins. “Looks like you’re ready to conquer the world,” he jokes, but all I can do it nod. “We patched the bruise on your head and bandaged your hand. You had all the fingers broken, but I don’t think you will have trouble with them in the future. In any case, you’ll need to see our ortho before you go.”

“Sure,” I say and lift my bandaged hand, which seems huge in this thing but at least there’s no aching throb or pain present in my body.

None except the one shredding my soul into tiny little pieces.

I croak past my dry lips, and Eve quickly gives me a drink and I sip through the straw, welcoming the coolness it brings me. “Is Micaden here?” I ask, and both of them freeze, sharing a look.

They must have tried finding his body, right? Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but what if his dead body is in the morgue and I can see him one last time to say goodbye?

Somehow, with him, we never get the chance to say those words, and I desperately need to once, to end our story right.

Not brutally as it always happens.

“Yes, but I don’t think—”

“Please.” He said himself there’s nothing keeping me in the hospital, so why is it such a problem for me to see his body? “I can handle it.”

He seems lost for a moment, but then he reluctantly nods, wiping his hand over his face, and then gives me his hand. The nurse removes the IV attached to my foot and I give her a grateful forced smile. I slowly stand up, swaying to the side, but the doctor catches me in time. “We need to call for a chair.”

“No,” I say, grabbing his hand and shaking my head. “I need to do it like this.” Finally, I regain my steadiness, and Eve throws a robe around me to put on. Slipping into fluffy slippers, I follow the doctor who adjusts his pace to mine.

The hospital smells greet me, but I don’t care about them, instead focusing all my attention on the sounds of our shoes bouncing off the walls as we go along the long hallway. As I walk, all the memories of Micaden and me flash in front of me.

Our summer together and all the emotions I’d experienced for the first time.

Our reunion when a stranger confused me, yet I couldn’t help but want him.

When I fell in love with him again, and how much I hated him when he told me the truth.

And the complete hopelessness we both experienced when the whole truth came to light.

But the strongest of them all is the last time our gazes clashed as his fingers slipped from mine when he let me go, so Kaden could take me up as he kept falling.

Just like back when he let me go when the police officers took me home.

The tears I hate so much form in my eyes, and one of them slides down while I push back the sob threatening to escape. I have to be strong for this, because I’ll finally be able to give us both the goodbye we deserve.

I’m so much in my head I don’t notice where I’m going and bump into the doctor’s back.

“You all right?”

“Yes.”

He holds the door open and motions for me to go inside. Confused, my brows furrow.

Isn’t the morgue a scary place with buzzing sounds, located in the basement, or whatever the downstairs of the hospital is called? Why is he taking me to this brightroom? “I want to see Micaden,” I say firmly. What if this is some new room for me, or worse? Has he brought me to a shrink to make sure I’m not mental?

He clears his throat and scratches his head, confused as hell it seems. “And this is his room.”

“What?” I rasp and enter, gasping while covering my mouth with my hand, because the sight in front of me shocks me then makes my heart soar again.

Micaden is lying on the bed with wires attached to him; machines beep loudly around him, indicating a steady pulse, but at the same time, he wears a breathing mask.

I come closer, still shocked, but then I see he’s unconscious. I notice the chart next to him with his progress, but none of it makes sense to me due to all the medical terms. “He’s alive.” I turn around to face the doctor and Eve, and they both nod, although the doctor is the one who explains to me what happened.

“A man rescued him. Apparently, they called for help beforehand, because the ambulance was waiting for them. His vitals are fine, but he spent a lot of time underwater without air, and we are not sure how it might affect his brain.”

“I’m sorry, but what?”

“All we can do is wait for him to wake up.” His lips thin and then realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

Coma, he’s talking about a coma. “There’s no guarantee, is there?” My question stays unanswered, and I sit on the chair next to him, lightly touching his forehead, whispering, “Please wake up, Micaden.”

But despite all this, something blossoms in my chest, something I thought died a long time ago.

Hope.

Sociopath

Gazing at the couple through the door window, a small, rare grin appears on my face, because Micaden found his peace.

If he lives, that is.

Satisfied, I go down in the elevator, through endless hallways to the outside, and finally breathe in the fresh smell of the ocean air, still present even in the town. I should bring my woman here sometime; she’d appreciate it.

I feel a presence behind me even before Lachlan speaks. His tone alone demands answers, as if I ever follow his orders. “You came.”

“It seems you can’t handle stuff without me present,” I say, and glance to my right where he stands, a deep scowl on his face, but he nods, acknowledging my presence. “Now we wait.”

“Waiting requires patience.”

“It’s a virtue,” Shon says, joining us, and I chuckle, because Lachlan doesn’t find it amusing, and he lets him know that in the deadly glare sent Shon’s way.

“Get the fuck out of here with this talk.”

“We just need Jaxon and Arson for our little reunion.” The words are barely out of my mouth when the two men in question come to us; they couldn’t have left without checking on Micaden anyway. “And here you guys are.”

“You always had the best timing among all of us,” Jaxon greets me, and I nod, because that’s true. People have to learn to take credit when it’s due.

“We are done here then,” Arson says, lightening up a cigarette, while Lachlan adds, “Until the next time.”

With that, each one of us walks off, because we all have our own paths, pains, pleasures, and life. We’re not best friends who hang around each other, drink beer, or have family reunions. We don’t do mutual barbecues, our women are not friends, and we try to keep ourselves as separated as possible from each other’s personal life. We don’t call each other to ask how someone is doing or any other shit normal people do.

What we have is not friendship.

What we have is deep loyalty, because if one of them ever needs my help again… I’ll come from wherever I am to help them.

And without a doubt, I know all of them will do the same for me.

We are not friends.

We are people bound by the pain of our past.