Page 17 of Isolation
Or is that wishful thinking?
I can’t get pregnant with Milo’s devil spawn. I just can’t. The universe can’t play such a cruel joke on me.
Milo reaches back. He doesn’t comment on the birth control in my hand but holds out two pills of his own. One of them is broken in half.
“Here.”
“Why is that one only half?” I point at one of the tablets, but I grab them both.
“These pills are highly addictive,” he unscrews the water bottle. “You just told me you were high last night, which means you have been getting high on pain killers for days. Your frame is small. I think the bigger dose is affecting you.”
Half a pill is actually safer against an opening for sex on opioids. Besides, I am not as focused on physical pain as the one in my chest. I take the pills, chug the water, and turn to him.
“Where is Reid?” I ask for what seems like the hundredth time today.
“You should get more rest,” Milo’s voice is stoic, his expression unreadable. He takes the empty water bottle to throw it away. “Don’t worry about Reid.”
I have to speak to Reid to somehow explain what happened. “Can you ask him to come to see me?”
Milo’s voice is monotone. “He already came by to see you while you were unconscious.”
“I’d like to see him post unconsciousness.”
“So, go see him,” he shrugs.
“How?” I ask slowly. “I can’t walk.”
“That sounds like ayou,” Milo points his index finger at me, “problem.”
I stare at Milo, feeling dumbfounded.
I have been paying attention throughout the day. Milo is starkly different, yet he is the same. He is still polite, but now he is unapproachable. He is disengaged. Dismissive.
Milo always had a master poker face. Now, his face is genuinely void of emotions. He is not masking his feelings; I fear that he has none left, which is not good news for me.
They say psychopaths are born, but sociopaths are made. Milo was not born evil. His lack of empathy, volatile and impulsive tendencies all started later in life. All of which points towards sociopathic behavior. So, what resonates with a sociopath?
Narcissism?
“Thank you for taking care of me the last few days.” I close my eyes to hide any emotions. “Will you please help me so I can talk to Reid?"
“Why do you need him so badly?” he asks, irritated. “I am here. Tellmewhat you need.”
“I just did!” The words come out a little harsher than intended, shooting an onslaught of pain right to the middle of my skull. I hold my forehead in response to the migraine.
“Rave,” Milo sits down next to me and strokes my hair. “You need to calm down. This is not good for your concussion.”
“It will calm me down to know where Reid is,” I squeeze my forehead.
Milo sighs. “Reid left the house and never came back. We don’t know where he went.”
My eyes snap wide open as I stare at Milo. I slump backward on my pillow and wait for any emotion to hit me. I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing. Empty. Like being dead on the inside.
Milo scoots closer and wraps his arms around me. I don’t make a single move, taking in the momentary warmth of consolation.
No words are exchanged between us. My morbid state must have inspired some pity. When Milo speaks again, I don’t hear the same patronization from before.
“I told everyone not to say anything, but I promise Reid will be just fine. He’s a big boy. He knows how to take care of himself. It’ll be okay.”
