Page 10 of The Pretty Psycho

ADRIAN

Patience wasn'tone of my strong suits, and the longer I kept sitting in this fucking sterile hospital room, the less of it I had.

Sleep evaded me, as it usually did, but even if I wanted to sleep I couldn't erase the images of Vega tied down in that fucking cave, bloodied and bruised, apologizing for something she had no control over. And the more I stared at her immobile body, lying in the hospital bed right in front of me, the more I wanted to get out and smash something.

Anything.

I just needed to destroy something, someone, and maybe then I'd be able to sit still and wait for my sleeping princess to wake up.

The rational side of me knew she was only sleeping, resting, but no matter how many times the doctors assured me that she needed this, that she was dehydrated, beaten, fucking raped, I wanted those pretty eyes of hers open. I wanted her to look at me. I wanted her to fight with me, because even her anger was more welcome than this silence enveloping us as the machines attached to her beeped, telling me she was alive.

But I knew that those fuckers attached to her were only telling us what her physical state was like. Mentally… I didn'teven want to fucking think about it. I refused to think about the horrors she must have endured down there, waiting for us to save her.

Did she know I would come for her? Did she even have any hope left as the fucker who took her stole all the brightness from her eyes, because the moment I found her I knew that even the rare glimpses of light she carried when she came to the Academy would be gone. He took the innocence I could still see in her, robbing her of the one thing that gave me hope she would be able to be strong enough for the two of us.

My fists clenched as I rested my elbows on my knees, looking at her as though moving my eyes away would rob me of a single moment. And I didn't want to miss those eyes opening. I didn't want to miss those lips parting and saying my name.

She mumbled incoherently in her sleep, saying my name over and over again, and each time it felt like another knife lodging itself in my heart, because I knew that on some level this was my fault. If I had fought harder, if I had stopped her from leaving, none of this would've happened.

The left side of her face was bruised, swollen with that ugly cut over her cheek. She looked so small, so fucking fragile, nothing like the girl that basically told me to go fuck myself. She was completely swallowed by the sheets draped over her, covering her from head to toe.

Two days had felt like an eternity in this hospital, and no matter how many times Yolanda, Jax, and Dante tried telling me to go to the Academy and get some rest, I couldn't move from here. Arseniy could barely stand to look at me, and I didn't blame him. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had punched me the moment he came to the hospital. But I guess there was something to be said about the state I was in, because he took one good look at me and simply shook his head. His eyes then landing on the sleeping beauty and all these machines I had anurge to rip apart, because I blamed even them for keeping her under.

Anger was something I was familiar with. It was my best friend, my worst enemy, my salvation, and my destruction, but these emotions, these feelings swirling in the pit of my stomach, had nothing to do with anger. It was a despair that ran through my veins as I sat here, helpless to do anything but wait.

And I was tired of waiting.

I wasn't a religious person, but for her I prayed. I begged God or whatever entity there was to save her, to heal her, to help her get over this ordeal, because I knew there was no me without her. Maybe it was a selfish prayer, one filled with fear, longing, and regrets rooted in a need so deep I had no idea what to do with myself most of the time, but it was a prayer nevertheless.

"I need you to be okay, Bambi," I rasped, hating how weak my voice sounded. Hating how there was nothing I could do to erase the days and nights she was tortured. The legs of my chair scraped over the floor as I pulled it closer to her bed, taking her unbandaged hand in mine. "I need you to be fucking okay because I don't want to live without you."

My lips trembled as I lowered my head down, pressing them to her hand. Her skin was cold, too fucking cold, and my eyes landed on the monitor showing her steady heartbeat. But the machines weren't enough to appease the beast clawing at my insides, needing to get out, needing to see his partner smiling, arguing, fighting.

The beast claimed her before I ever could and I never stood a chance against that determined look in her eyes or the snarky remarks that often rolled off of her tongue.

Now I know why men like me avoided falling in love. Now I know why the greatest warriors of our time fell apart when the one they loved was taken from them, because I have no ideawhat I would've done if we hadn't found her two days ago or if we were too late.

The bitter November sun started breaking through the window behind me, alerting me of a new day, of a new hope, but even the sunrays weren't enough to calm me down. People often mourn those who leave, or those who are sick, but now I understood that the pain so very rarely lies in the hearts of those that are mourned. It lived inside the souls of mourners, because they had to continue living their lives as if a part of their heart wasn't missing.

Maybe it wasn't quite the same, because Vega was still here, but it was still possible, missing a person even while they still lived. And I missed her more than anything else in my life. I needed her with every fiber of my being and I wasn't going to lie to myself or her anymore.

I was tired of games, of pretenses, of going through life with half of my soul missing because she stole it. It took one look, one fucking touch, and I was irrevocably hers, even if I didn't know it at the time.

She calmed the parts of me I didn't even know were turbulent. She gave me peace in a lifetime of war, and if she didn't want me she would just have to get used to me being her shadow, because I was never letting her go.

The door slowly opened, illuminating the room with a soft glow trickling in from the hallway, only to reveal Arseniy and Dimitri standing there, both of them wearing similar looks on their faces.

Concern.

Despair.

Anger.

I understood all three of them, yet I had no idea which one was which any longer. I had no idea if this thing bursting in my chest was sadness, fear, anger, pain, or simply despair. I had noidea if this nightmare I was living in would ever stop. But it had to.

It fucking had to.

"Anything?" Dimitri asked as they slowly came in, closing the door behind them.

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