Page 75 of Provoke You

He squeezed his eyes tight, placing a large hand on the door for support. “I tried.”

“You have to trust me. I didn’t do this.” In a feeble attempt, I lifted my free arm to gesture to the pathetic scene around us. The sterile white room, the vinyl-upholstered chairs, the tiny sink in the corner, and the sickening smell of brand-new plastic and bleach. The sun peeked from behind the beige blinds and blue cotton curtains, but not enough to make the room bright. Not enough to make Matt see the real me.

“Which part, Ela?” He faced me, chest muscles straining under his shirt. “Look at this place. In a matter of hours, you landed us here.”

“I didn’t. There was a guy at the bar. He got me here somehow.”

“And he made you drink an obscene amount of vodka? Why did you leave without me?”

“I went to the door. And that’s the last thing I remember. The rest is like some fucked-up nightmare. I’m not even sure what was real and what wasn’t.”

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “I’m familiar with that. You going out and doing things you don’t remember the next morning.”

I sat up, welcoming the pain. It was the only thing keeping me awake. What did they give me? “You can’t be throwing that back in my face. I told you. That night was an off night.”

“An off night?” He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “Ela, listen to yourself.”

“This is different.” The sedatives made it hard to focus. This instance was different. I knew it was, but how. “Dad was there.”

“We need to stop blaming every random thing on your dad.” He closed the space between us, one slow step after another. “Ela.” He swallowed.

I blinked. The effort to spring my eyes open again took all the strength I had left. His hand touched me again, and the surge of raw energy brought me back.

“I wanted us to be together.”

“And you don’t want that anymore?”

“I can’t. I’ve already lived through this. Many times, I’d wished it would kill me. Why would I do this to myself again?” he said mostly to himself, running a finger down my cheek. I relaxed against the bed, feeling more alive than I did when I first woke on a gurney outside the hospital.

“I can’t.” He sat next to me. “I can’t go through this again.” His fingers gripped my worn gown and slid down to my waist. I covered his hand with mine. I didn’t want him to stop touching me. I didn’t want him to leave.

“I love you,” I whispered on his temple when his forehead touched mine.

“I love you too.” His hot breath had the usual desperation to it, as if he wanted nothing more than to believe my words.

I’d already said everything to him. “You’re choosing not to believe me.”

“I’m choosing me.” He pressed his lips to mine.

It was so quick, like a goodbye. The adrenaline that rushed through me kicked whatever depressant that nurse had given me. I kissed his cheek. His salty tears slipped past my tongue. This was killing him. I cupped his face with both my hands. The needles on my arm came off, and I was finally free to throw my arms around him and feel his body.

“I love you,” he repeated against the skin on my chest. His mouth was hot against me. “But I can’t stay. You’ll be safe here. They will take care of you.” He rose to his feet.

I fell back on the pillow and ran my hands through his soft hair. If he truly loved me, he never would have said those words to me. This place was not safe. And they had no way to take care of me because they didn’t know me, because I didn’t need to be taken care of.

“Matt. Stop.” I threw the covers off and swung my legs to the side.

He made it to the door before he turned to me. Whatever I did took him by surprise, and he froze in place. “I can’t be part of your life.”

I slid off the bed and walked toward him. “You’re doing this because you’re afraid. Please don’t leave me.”

He opened the door, and the nurse rushed in. “Dear girl, look at you.” She shoved me back to the bed.

Matt stood by the door, watching as if I were in a glass box and there was nothing he could do to reach me. I hugged my needled arm to my body to ease the throbbing pain. My worn hospital gown had a large blood stain on it from when I ripped the tubes out. The stain grew larger and darker. My hair smelled of antibacterial soap, and wet strands stuck to the side of my face. I hated that Matt had to see me like this.

The room had turned into a mad chaos as they tried to get me back into bed. I didn’t fight them. It was no use. They always won. Another nurse came in with a wheelchair. He was tall and muscled. If Matt wanted to, he could have taken him out and gotten me out of here. Instead, he stood staring at me, but not really seeing me.

He didn’t deserve this. Even if I hadn’t done anything this time to get me here, all this was a consequence of all the fucked-up choices I’d made in the past. No doubt all he saw was his mom going through another episode. Where was Matt whenever that happened? Did he stand by the door and simply watch? Or did he crawl in the corner of the room and try to make sense of it all, the fear of losing his mom and being alone?

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