Page 43 of Catch Me When I Fall

“Don’t you ever say that shit to me again,” he finally spoke, his voice a low, heavy whisper. I was rocked to my very core, and before I could process anything, he released me. “Go get your things. We’re leaving,” he clipped, stepping back from me, my skin still burning from where he’d held me.

“I—”

He cut me off with the sharp bite of his tongue. “Enough. Mrs. Hale, you are a danger to yourself. Thirteen days ago, you escaped rehab, bought a plane ticket, and hightailed your ass here.”

“How am I a danger to myself, bounty hunter?” I shot back, my skin still tingling.

The man gave me a look. “I’m standing in your living room. Give me more credit than that.”

He knew.

He knew all the horrid things about me, the things written on endless pieces of paper as I was studied like a lab rat.

“So the rehab hired you,” I guessed, and I gestured to him. “You read my file and you think you have it all figured out, huh?”

He said nothing, moving to fold his arms over his chest. The stance was one of power and…danger. Nevertheless, I kept going. “So they hire you, telling you that I’m suicidal, and need to be brought back immediately, is that it?”

I didn’t get a response, which infuriated me even more. Grinding my teeth, I raised my finger to him. “You don’t know a single thing about me,” I hissed. “You don’t get the right to judge me and tell me how to live my fucking life.”

His eyes dropped to my finger and then lifted back up to me. “One year and six months ago, you went to the gym for your early morning workout,” he began, and with every single word, my arm lowered more. “Your husband was getting ready for work. He’d gone upstairs to take a shower after making you breakfast—”

“Stop,” I snapped, my arm falling to my side as my breathing increased, the memories of that day coming back full force.

He took a step closer to me. “You came home after your workout and found him,” he continued, his voice level. There was a certain cruelty about it, the way he could so casually describe the worst day of my life. “You passed out, and because you’d burned all the calories in your system that morning, your blood sugar was low. They took you to the hospital for observation, and not even twenty-four hours later, you slashed your wrists open,” he said, growling the last part.

My bottom lip trembled, my tears falling down my cheeks now as I shook my head. “That doesn’t mean I belong in that place—in that fucking prison,” I spat, my breath hitching.

His handsome face gave nothing away, his eyes studying me like all those therapists, nurses, and doctors had. I’d been under a microscope my entire life, and I wasn’t about to go back under.

“I’m not going with you,” I told him as two tears raced down my cheeks, rolling down to my neck.

He softened his voice. “You’re not in the right mindset to be on your own.”

I huffed out a harsh laugh, shaking my head. “If I wanted to die, I would’ve done it last Christmas.”

He stiffened, his spine straightening slightly, making him even taller as his nostrils flared.

I kept going. “During the holidays, security is thin, and the staff is gone for vacations.” I took a step away from him, going to the front window as I wrapped my arms around my front. “If I still wanted to die, bounty hunter, I would’ve overdosed on the pain medication left out at the nurses' station.” I looked over to him. “It would’ve been painless—easy.”

This, of course, was met with more silence, and I looked back out into the quiet night, my eyes on the streetlamp, remembering that only a couple of hours ago, he wasn’t a bounty hunter. He was just a man.

After a few moments, tears were still streaming down my face, I turned back around to face him. “I’m not a danger to myself,” I croaked.

A muscle jumped in his cheek.

“Whatever my file says is a lie. If the doctors wrote I was a difficult patient, it was because I didn’t feel like talking to them. If the nurses noted I was refusing to eat, it was because that food was—,” I cut myself off. He didn’t need to know the truth. He probably wouldn’t believe me anyways. I took another step towards him, then another and another until we were inches apart once more. “I stopped taking the medications two months ago,” I whispered, moving on from the subject of food.

If I hadn’t been standing so close to him, I might’ve missed the split second of surprise that washed over his face.

“I wasn’t crazy,” I murmured, my voice cracking as I looked up into his dark eyes, searching for a shred of mercy. “I wasn’t crazy—I was in pain.” The last word came out as a seething crack, filled with nothing but agony. Tears continued to fall as I exposed myself to this stranger, my broken soul on display.

He bit out a curse, turning his head to the side, glaring at my kitchen as I continued to stare at him.

“I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on my worst enemies, bounty hunter,” I said softly, sniffling. “I wouldn’t wish the last half of my life on anyone, come to think of it.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, looking back to me.

I looked down to our feet. “On paper, before Robert was…” I trailed off, swallowing the knives in my throat. “My life looked perfect, right? Don’t believe everything you read.” More tears fell, and I was beginning to wonder if it was possible for your body to run out of tears. “I just want to be happy. That will never happen if you take me back to that city. My life isn’t there anymore, bounty hunter. It’s here,” I told him, ready to beg for my freedom.

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