Page 13 of Pawn

This is the nicest hospital I’ve been in. Shiny floors below me, golden lamps on the rich brown walls. Nurses greeted us on arrival and took my sister in right away but I can’t stand still. My body feels both exhausted and energized, filled with worry.

Dread.

Head against the wall, Allie’s scarf hangs from Damien’s hands, the one that was around Willow. There are so many things I want to ask him. Need to ask him. But all I can worry about is my sister getting out of this alive.

The door opens and my chest tightens, a doctor in his white coat looking at a metal clipboard. Damien’s on his feet as I approach him. He looks up at us, eyes wide, straightening the square frames on his nose. Damien’s the first to speak, flashing his name around, “I’m Damien King and this is the patient’s sister. Her guardian.”

The doctor gets a better look at him. It’s not like he can go anywhere when we have him backed against the door. “Ah, yes.” He looks at me, small eyes tired behind thick lenses. “Are you Jo?”

“Did she ask for me?” I ask, pulling the arms of my hoodie to my fingers. “Is she okay?”

He looks at the paper attached to the clipboard in his hand. “She gave us a scare but it’s a simple answer. She seems to be suffering from shock and over-exhaustion. Her energy is completely depleted. It also seems she’s taken some trauma to the body. And her head.”

It’s clear he’s waiting for answers, the way he’s peering over his frames but that only makes my fists clench.

The doctor’s eyes drop to my hands before Damien cuts in, “Party animal.” He chuckles. A rocky nervous one. Damien clears his throat, steadying his voice. “Freshmen aren’t what they used to be. These girls are from The Grove and you know what they say …” He shrugs, giving the doctor a charming wink.

It’s hard not to glare.

“I see,” the doctor says. “She’s resting up. A nurse will let you know when you can see her. Are you insured?” His eyes fall on me.

“I’ll take care of it,” Damien says.

Doc’s face lights up. “Perfect. We have her in a private suite, I’ll let you know when you can see her.” Pulling the door closed behind him, he locks the door and when I peer in, the curtain’s still drawn, blocking my view.

Damien pulls me to him, looking as relieved as I am to know that she’s okay but that doesn’t change the mess we’re in. So I stop him, pulling back. I need space. A beat to think. “I …”

His jaw twitches, brows lowering as I take another step back. “You what?” His impatience is quick to peak.

“I need a second,” I say, glancing down the hall. He pulls on my hand, a shockwave flowing through me and I don’t want to let go but I do.

“Jo,” he warns.

My eyes spot the bathroom sign near a set of doors, my stomach feeling like it’s on the world’s largest roller coaster. My brain feels the same. Scrambled. Twisted.

“Where are you going?” he calls as I start down the hall.

“Bathroom,” I call, keeping my eyes on the sign as I haul ass.

Ducking into the bathroom, I’m pressing onto the cold, stone wall as I hurry to find a stall. When I do, I let it all out, spewing right into the toilet. Thinking back to the rooftop, another hurl comes again, tears coming to my eyes.

This is all my fault.

“My dad broke his hand in a wall again.” Someone enters the bathroom and I’m quick to rise to my feet, flushing the toilet.

Heading to the sink, I splash my face with cold water.

Get it together, Jo. Don’t freak out. Stay calm.

Scratches and bruises decorate my cheek and neck, a reminder of the battle on the roof. “Fuck,” I mutter.

Dabbing at my eyes with a soft paper towel, I try to keep my breath steady. So what if I watched a woman plummet to her death? If it wasn’t her it would’ve been Damien. And if it wasn’t Damien it would’ve been me.

The thought makes me want to hurl again as I grip the counter. Looking at my reflection, it’s like I have the words stamped on my forehead.

Murderer.

Grim Reaper.

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