Page 15 of Stay with Me

Time to stop being the nice sister and get tough. She threw the remote through the door and into the kitchen. It landed on the floor with a clatter and slid into a chair leg. “Drink the medicine, then you can get the remote for yourself.”

He sat forward with a roar and pitched the beer can in her direction.

She easily dodged the flying missile. It exploded against the wall, spraying liquid everywhere.

“Are you insane?” he yelled.

“The medicine is ancient holy water and will heal you.”

This time he threw one of his pillows. “Go away!”

“Drink it first.”

“No.”

“If you do, you’ll be able to see again.”

Dawson released a slew of swearing and then grabbed the lamp off the bedside table. He chucked it at her, and she easily stepped out of its path. As it crashed against the floor, he fumbled for something else to throw. Sightlessly he skimmed, his cursing growing louder and echoing with deep helplessness.

“Drink it, Dawson!” she shouted above his angry words. “Please, I’m begging you!”

This time he tossed one of his vaping pens.

It hit her chin, and the force of it left a stinging mark. She pressed her fingers to the spot to find them sticky with blood.

Dawson grew suddenly silent. Although he couldn’t see her and what he’d done, no doubt he realized he’d hurt her.

“It’s the miracle cure—”

“I mean it, Sybil.” His voice was monotone, dead, as though he’d lost the will to fight and live all in one throw. “Leave and don’t come back.”

Her breath snagged sharply in her chest. They’d had plenty of rows over the years—none quite like this—but he’d never told her not to come back.

“I’d be better off without you coming in here and nagging me all the time and making me crazy with your ideas of what I should and could be doing better.”

“This is different.” She held up the bottle, wishing he could see for himself what she’d brought and understand its significance.

“No, it’s never different. It’s always the same—you trying to fix me instead of accepting me the way I am.”

Again, his words pierced her, this time with guilt. Was that what she’d been doing all this time? Making him feel like she didn’t love him for who he was because he was blind? If so, she hadn’t meant to. “I’m sorry, Dawson...”

“This is who I am now.” He held up his arms, giving her a good look. “I won’t get better.”

“But that’s why I’m here, because I found a cure.”

“I don’t need you or your cures.” His expression turned to steel, and he pointed at the door. “Now go.”

She hesitated.

“I loathe your visits. I wish you’d gone missing instead of Mum.”

This time his words hit their mark, right in the most sensitive spot in her heart. She remained frozen for several long seconds, unable to move or breathe. Anguish rippled out from her chest and brought the swift sting of tears to her eyes.

He was silent, too, and stared unseeingly at the dark TV screen.

She fought to keep the tears at bay. But despair battered her chest, and she wasn’t sure she could keep her defenses up.

She crossed to his dresser, placed the bottle of holy water at the center, and then left his room and his flat without speaking to him again. She got in her Ford Focus and forced herself to drive. During the twenty or so minutes to Reider Castle, her thoughts swirled fast, reviewing every second of her interaction with Dawson, the last cruel declaration echoing louder with each replay.

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