His lips are smooth, like he’s only interested in what’s friendly and fair. Still, his eyes are blank, like he’s hiding what’s really there: judgment.
“I’m sorry; who are you?” I ask.
“Brody. Doctor Brody Barwick. Whatever you want to call me, really. Blaze said you’re looking for an easy death. Onyourterms.” He shrugs, then gazes to the side. “I get that. Trust me. You’re not the first person I’ve met who wants that. Normally, I just get cheap prescription drugs for my patients. It’s easier for everyone. That way, they can handle it themselves. Even so, I’m not opposed to physician-assisted suicide. If that’s whatyouwant, then it should be your final call. Not his.”
His.
I swallow. My throat dry. He’s talking about Blaze.
The memory of last night—the gun, Blaze’s cock in my ass, the tears—flashes before my eyes.
Did I give Blaze the final call when he forced me to shoot that gun?
I study the doctor, analyzing the missing pieces. This man must be Blaze’s contact—his dealer, or whatever he is to Blaze. Blaze would never let someone like him near me; he’s too controlling for that. This entire meeting is suspicious. There must be animosity between the two of them.
“Blaze gets carried away,” the doctor says, breaking the silence. He pushes a hand through his blond hair, then glances around, like he’s nervous that Blaze may be watching us from the shadows. “You have the right to decide what you do. It’s your life. Not his.”
There it is again:His.
The doctor pulls out two objects from his pocket; a plastic bag filled with items that look like oversized ear swabs, and an orange prescription bottle. The pharmaceuticals Blaze promised me for my birthday.
Wariness tingles in my hands and arms, pins and needles jabbing me. “I don’t know how to use that,” I say.
“You suck on this one, like a lollipop,” he says. He holds up the plastic bag. “And this? It’s a pill. You know how to take—”
I cut him off: “I want Blaze to do it.”
The doctor’s jaw drops, his entire posture stunned. After a while, he clears his throat.
“If that’s what you want, then it’s up to you.” He shoves the bag and the bottle back into his pocket, his knuckles white with irritation, probably because I just wasted his time. “I’m in town for a few more days. If you change your mind, please reach out to me.”
He places a business card in my hands. I stand on the porch, holding the card. Not reading it.
The doctor drives away. Both Blaze and the doctor parked in the same exact place. It’s a coincidence, sure, but it’s like it symbolizes something. A rivalry that I’m not aware of yet.
I stare at the empty space on the curb, trying to figure it out.
Chapter29
Ren
I sitat the kitchen table for an hour and read the doctor’s business card over and over again until its shapes and lines are meaningless.
Dr. Brody Barwick.Is he even a real doctor?
The front door bursts open. Mrs. Richmond smiles, but it’s forced. She never smiles at me.
“I thought you had work today,” she says.
Guilt settles in my chest. Missing work is like asking her to take care of me, a fully grown child. I’m an even bigger burden now.
If I had taken over the school like she asked me to, she’d be enjoying retirement right now, maybe even traveling. Instead, she’s stuck here with me. Her feet sinking deeper into the sand.
“I called in,” I say. Then I shake my head. “Blaze called in, actually.”
For me.
“Blaze?” Mrs. Richmond asks, her voice practically a hiss, then she covers it up, adjusting herself. “Is that a work friend?”