Page 14 of Heart Sick

A plastic white chair is positioned near the bed and I focus on it, wishing to materialize the only visitor I want. He is there a moment later.

“Misha.”

He’s clearer than ever before.“Mom, why did you do this?”

“To be with you,” I reply with a smile.

He looks so handsome. He’s wearing his favorite football jersey and blue jeans.“I don’t want that. I don’t want you to live the rest of your life like this.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be dead,” I counter, proud he is just as stubborn as me.

He leans back in his seat, giving me that look. He was always so concerned about me. He wanted me to find a man who would treat me well and settle down. I knew that was because he didn’t want me to be alone when he eventually made a family of his own.

I wasn’t lonely. Nor did I lack male suitors. I had money, brains, and was blessed with looks. But I am incredibly fussy, and I didn’t need a man to complete me.

I complete myself.

“I am dead. But I won’t allow that fate be for the both of us.”

“Misha—”

“Who you talking to?” The moment I hear a deep voice, a chill racks me from head to toe.

A young orderly with large silver-rimmed glasses and dark brown hair enters and my immediate response is to shrink away. He has no expression behind his dark eyes and my skin instantly crawls. I want to dissolve into this bed, but can’t, thanks to the restraints. And when he examines them with a slanted smirk, I come to realize how vulnerable I am.

“I’m here to help. My name is Noah.” I glance at his name tag, which says Hayden.

He notices me looking at the name tag. “We have a little policy here; we don’t use our real names.”

“Why?” I’m almost afraid to ask.

“Because it’s better not to know one another on a personal level. Things get too…messy otherwise.”

I have no idea what that means, but when he visually undresses me, I understand perfectly. If he was to relate to me, to humanize me, then he couldn’t do the deplorable things I am certain he intends to do.

“Open up for the airplane,” he mocks, sweeping the clear medicine cup through the air.

He is speaking to me like a child, and that shit won’t stick with me. “Fuck you. Don’t speak to me like that. I—”

I never get to finish my sentence because Noah launches forward and seizes my cheeks between his fingers. I try to pull away, but he only grips me harder, puckering my lips.

“This is how things work around here,” he snarls, inches from my face. His breath is cigarette laden. “I give the orders. You obey. We clear, crazy bitch?”

I am horrified he would speak to anyone this way.

“Nod if you understand me because your mouth has other uses.” He doesn’t give me a choice when he forces me to move my head up and down as he’s still holding my face prisoner. “Good girl. I can be your best friend. Or, I can be your worst enemy. You take care of me, I take care of you.”

My stomach drops because I can read between the lines.

“Understood?”

I fake surrender, which appeases Noah who stupidly lets me go, but the moment he does, I rear forward and bite his nose and don’t let go. I am like a dog, tearing at a bone as I shake my head from side to side.

“You fucking bitch!” he cries, but doesn’t call for help.

And I know why. I am in so much trouble.

Noah punches me in the ribs, winding me. I gasp for air, letting go of his nose. I can’t do anything because of these fucking restraints, but I don’t show weakness. I can’t.

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