Page 8 of Demise

Strength to move on when you know it’s time or strength to stay when you realize that’s all there is.

“Of course, you do,” she says.

Chapter Eight

Bones

I breathe in, enjoying the softness of the wrapper against the edge of my nose, tickling my top lip. The mellow and creamy aroma of nutmeg and Spanish cider unwinds me. I place the cigar to my lips, striking the Zippo and puffing. Smoke bellows, surrounding me with a warmness I often wondered, while in that shack, if I’d ever feel again. The taste of a good cigar, the heat of a good whiskey, and the touch of a beautiful woman.

“Mr. O’Brien, you should not be out here, and you most certainly should not be smoking.” Nurse Jackie startles me.

I look at Sweep.

His lip lifts in a condescending way.

“Yeah, yeah. Get me back in before she has a heart attack.” Cold smoke blows from my mouth, and I wrap my coat around me tighter.

He stands and grabs the back of my wheelchair.

“What were you thinking?” she says, reaching for my cigar. I jolt back, taking one last puff before she makes it hers.

“It was Sweep’s idea,” I say in my defense.

I hear him chuckle.

“I’m sure it was.” Jackie looks skeptical.

She’s one of those nurses who’s been on the floor long enough that all the other nurses are scared of her. I’m not scared of the woman, but she does have a way of making you do as she asks.

It’s been two full days here. I’ve been stitched up, bandaged up, fueled up, and lying down for long enough. Fortunately, all my wounds were minor and appeared worse than they were.

The sliding glass door shuts out the cold after we enter. Sweep wheels me back to my room.

“You have a visitor,” Nurse Jackie says. “Although she may be gone by now. I had a hard time finding you, after all.” She eyeballs me.

She?

“Sweep, go a little faster, would you?”

“Don’t you do no such thing. You better take it easy, Mr. O’Brien, or you’ll be in here longer than you have to.”

I ignore her, my mind still on the wordshe.

Bexley.

I thought she wouldn’t want to see me. Thought, for sure, she’d want to pack up everything and run like hell. I keep seeing her collapse in front of me. Her soft body hitting the hard porch. Her eyes closed, her face pale. I tried to lift her, but Sweep nearly took me down.

We near the door, and I have to remind myself to breathe.For all you know, she could be telling you to never contact her again.

I grip onto the wheelchair. My knuckles turn white as Nurse Jackie opens the door. My heart beats harder, my blood pumping fiercely. I feel a small shake in my hands, and the tips of my fingers slide over the sweat on my palms.

Jesus.

Sweep pushes me through, and my eyes scan the room.

Chapter Nine

Sweep

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