Page 60 of Damaged

Minute by minute, I was losing pieces of myself. I wasn’t losing them to Dalton or the past. I was just losing them… little bits that flaked off and crumbled to ash before floating away. There was a shameful part of me that wished I was back at Ivan’s. At least I’d known who and what I was as those days had bled into one another.

I didn’t know anything anymore.

“Silver?”

I hated the sound of my name unless it was Dalton saying it, and that was only because I could still hear the despair in his voice when he’d apologized for what he’d done. That was one piece I was still trying to hold on to, but it too was slipping away.

I heard my name repeated along with a firm knock on the door.

I knew who it was, but I didn’t answer. I wasn’t particularly surprised when the doctor who seemed to be in charge of all the men outside stepped into my room. It didn’t take long for him to find me since the room was only so big. I was in the corner that was farthest from the bedroom door, my back to the wall.

“Silver—”

“No,” was all I said as I continued to cradle my body with my knees tucked against my chest and my arms wrapped around them. The word was my go-to response these days.

No, I wasn’t hungry.

No, I didn’t want to go outside.

No, I didn’t want to talk.

No, I didn’t want to hear how Dalton was doing.

I expected the man to do what all the others, including Jace, had done… turn around and walk away. Instead, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. I should have been afraid, but I wasn’t. I didn’t care if he wanted to lecture me, fuck me, or belittle me for my behavior.

The man didn’t speak again as he approached my little corner. I didn’t look up, I didn’t look down, I just stared into the nothingness that had become my best friend. Instead of putting all my fear, rage, and all the other shit eating away at me into the box in my head that had protected me for so long, I’d figured out how to change things.

I’d figured out how to make that box work even better.

The box where I’d hidden away so many things in wasn’t in me anymore. I was in it.

It was quiet.

Safe.

Peaceful.

Easy.

I wasn’t sure how long it took me to realize that the man hadn’t left the room. Instead, he’d stealthily managed to sit a mere half-dozen feet from me, his broad shoulders leaning against my bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“Things with Dalton haven’t gone as well as we hoped,” the man said bluntly. I hated that his words pulled me from that dark, peaceful place where I hadn’t had to be anyone. Where I hadn’t existed anymore.

“That’s why it’s taking so long to get him back to you,” the man continued. Ronan… that was his name. I’d met him more than a few times. I’d even seen him at the funeral with another man and three children standing solemnly among the other mourners.

“The detox went well, all things considered, but the reason it’s taken so much longer for him to get back is because the doctors have been trying to figure out how to manage his pain without feeding into his addiction,” Ronan said, his voice even and steady. “Dalton insisted on being discharged today, even if he had to do it AMA. That means against medical advice.”

I told myself that I didn’t care. It didn’t matter what happened to Dalton. Every word spilling from Ronan’s lips could be the truth just as easily as they could be a lie.

Despite the internal conversation I was having with myself, I couldn’t deny the small spark that flickered to life somewhere deep inside my chest as Ronan spoke. The truth was that I was hungry for information on Dalton. Starving for it. I just didn’t want to admit it. Not to the man in front of me. Not to myself.

“Jace managed to get Dalton to agree to allow the doctors to run some tests on him,” Ronan continued. “The doctors found something.”

The change in Ronan’s voice was subtle, but it was there. He was worried.

“What?” I managed to choke out. Just like that, the little spark inside me turned into a full-on inferno.

“He told you about the shrapnel?—?”

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