Page 50 of Reaper
“He’s due for another round of pain medicine,” I say as I walk toward the door where the guard is standing.
He narrows his eyes. “When did you come in?”
“While you were flirting with the nurse’s assistant.”
He has the nerve to look embarrassed, but he nods.
“Why does he look like that?” he asks, pointing at Nikita whose eyes are still wide with terror and filled with tears now.
Fuck, I need to get out of here.
“Pain. That’s why I gave him more medicine. If that’s all, I have other patients to see.”
For a moment he hesitates, his eyes darting around nervously. I think I may have to physically force him, but then he steps aside, and I walk out, leaving the tense atmosphere behind.
I don’t look back as I casually walk to the stairwell and disappear before the nurses are notified by the machines that it’s Nikita’s last minutes.
Paris
AfewhoursagoTongue gave me the news that Nikita is dead. I don’t know what I expected to feel. Excitement or relief? However, I feel absolutely nothing. No relief, or excitement. I don’t ask any questions about how it happened but just assume he didn’t survive my attack despite it happening weeks ago. I just thank him for letting me know before returning to my search for an apartment.
Tongue’s stare bores into the side of my head like he expects more of a response from me. I don’t know if he had braced himself for tears, questions, or something completely different. It’s like I’m completely tapped out in the emotions department. I have nothing left to give anyone. I’m numb.
After a few moments of watching me, I guess to make sure I don’t have a meltdown, he leaves me alone and returns to his spot on Logan’s couch, where he’s been since I left the clubhouse.
I go back to work trying to find somewhere to stay. I’ve narrowed my options down to a few promising locations, Seattleand Denver. I’ve applied for some jobs and now I’m just waiting to hear back.
As I’m scouring for apartments in both places, trying to get an idea of what I can afford, my body stiffens when I hear my brother’s name on the news report playing on the TV.
“Fuck,” Tongue curses under his breath as I watch him fumble for his cellphone.
I rise from my seat in the dining room and walk into the living room. I grab the remote from the table and turn up the news broadcast so I can make sure I hear what I think I hear.
“Paris, I don’t think you need to see this.”
I don’t listen and sit on the couch, with my hands on my knees, listening to the reporter. If it’s about my brother, of course I need to hear it.
Breaking News
The body of financial analyst Kurt Johnson has been found. According to police reports, he was reported missing by co-workers after he didn’t show up for work. His body was found inside his car, located in a park outside of the city. As of right now, the cops believe no foul play is involved.
“They think he killed himself.”
Tongue grabs the remote from my hand, then turns the television off. “Paris are you good?”
I don’t even know when he got off the phone.
“Paris, do you want me to call anyone?”
That’s when I realize I have tears streaming down my face. It’s the first time I’ve cried since leaving the clubhouse, because I made a promise to myself that I can’t waste anymore of my energy on anyone who doesn’t give a shit about me. And here I am, already breaking that promise.
A watery chuckle escapes me when I look at Tongue. Concern is etched all over his face. I’ve gotten to know him while he’s been crashing here with me. According to Alana, who has alsobeen checking up on me, he’s a sweetheart and I can trust him. He is a sweetheart, despite his roughness. As far as trust, I’m realizing I can’t trust anyone but myself.
“There’s no one to call, Tongue.” I stand and smile as best as I can, even as pain rips into my heart. “I’m alone now.”
“Paris, you’re not alone.”
He’s almost convincing, but I already know the truth. It’s just me against the world.
