Page 24 of Frankie and the Fed
“Ethan,” I whisper into the phone. “It’s me.”
“Ayala.” My name rolling in his mouth is enough to make my whole body wake up.
“Ayala, don’t call me anymore. It’s over.”
The phone is still in my hand, and the monitor is still beeping. I still hear the sounds of the hospital in the background, but the world has stopped.
“What?” I say, thinking I didn’t hear correctly. Because there is no other option.
“It’s over, Ayala. I’m glad you’re okay, but don’t call here again.” He hangs up, leaving me with the phone in my hand, and I remain sitting in the hospital bed for long minutes as the world collapses around me.
CHAPTER10
Ethan
My hand drops, and the phone falls to the floor. I don’t care. I don’t care that I’ve been lying on this couch all day, almost screaming from pain. I don’t care that I have eaten nothing since I discharged myself from the hospital yesterday. I don’t care that I’ve already drowned myself in a half bottle of vodka, along with pain pills.
The vodka provides me with a pleasant blur, but I still feel the emptiness, the vacuum that sucks my insides.
I have nothing left.
My phone rings non-stop. Ryan, Olive, and my parents, more and more calls, and I hang up on everyone. I guess some of them have already found out that I left the hospital yesterday against doctors’ orders, and they want to scold me. But I don’t want to hear anyone right now.
When the unknown number called for the third time, I gave in and answered, thinking that maybe it was something important, but then, the voice on the other end, the one I thought I would never hear again, knocked me over. God, how good it was to hear her!
I wanted to ask if she was okay, to ask how she was doing. But I didn’t ask anything.
I have to let her go.
I’m not good for her. I couldn’t save her from his hands. I let her down, just like I let Anna down.
When I heard her breakdown, I almost regretted it, almost shoutedI love you.Instead, I said the worst thing I could have said and disconnected.
It’s better this way. As her parents told me, I’m to blame for what happened.
I was told to keep my distance. They asked me not to contact her. They told me that her life would be better without me. They’re right. I replay the conversation in my head. I’m the one who convinced her to cheat on her husband. Because of me, she returned to him. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t insisted that she be mine.
I get up from the couch slowly, holding my bandaged stomach with my healthy hand. The doctors said I was lucky. If the bullet had hit me just a little more to the right, I wouldn’t be here today, but somehow, miraculously, the bullet went in and out without hitting any vital organs. Yay, lucky me. As if fate were laughing at me, wanting me to stay alive to watch everyone I love suffer.
I received four blood transfusions just so I could stay alive, and I’m still weak. I have to lean against the wall when I walk. But at least I’m walking by myself. As soon as I could get up on my feet, I wanted out of that hospital.
I snort at myself as I try to make it to the kitchen. One step, and I gasp. What a disaster I am.
My shoulder screams in pain, and I try hard not to move it.
I swallow two more painkillers, even though I was told not to take more than two a day, but I don’t care about anything right now. I want the fog of oblivion, the blur. Because if I keep thinking about her, I’ll go crazy.
I want to erase her from my memory, the sight of her in that bed of horrors, spread out and bleeding. But neither the pills nor the alcohol helps me with that, and every time I close my eyes, I see her again. I can never sleep again. She will never forgive me. I will never forgive myself.
I return to the sofa, panting from pain and, shortness of breath, and collapse on it, crying, until finally fatigue overwhelms me, and I fall asleep.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I wake up to the sound of knocking on the door. It takes me forever to get up from the couch.
Few people have permission to come up to my apartment. Even my parents don’t have permission. So I already know who it is.
I half walk, half crawl to the door, unable to stand upright. The pain is killing me. Leaving the hospital early was not my best idea. But my parents were there too. Doctors. Visitors. Poking my body, my mind. I don’t want to see anyone. I prefer to be alone.
“Ethan.” Ryan storms in, almost knocking me down. I want to yell at him and ask him to go, but I can’t form the words. I don’t feel so good right now.
