Page 31 of Heart Sick

I trust him completely which may seem crazy considering I don’t even know him that well, and we did meet in a psychiatric hospital. But my heart knows he won’t hurt me.

The hallway is quiet and I wonder where everyone is, Noah included.

The wheels squeak along the polished linoleum and I hear Bowie clucking his tongue to the beat of the sound. Music is something which he clearly lives for. So it saddens me he doesn’t play anymore. I wonder what happened for him to stop.

Did he also lose someone who was the rhythm of his heart?

With Bowie, I feel a sense of peace and I guess he feels it too. We are inexplicably drawn to one another and although I shouldn’t because it won’t lead to any good, I can’t help but admire his good looks and how each gentle breath which escapes his beautiful lips has me wanting to seal my mouth over his.

A moan leaves me and when I am utterly embarrassed, Bowie seems pleased. “There you go,” he whispers. “You’ll be awake in no time.”

I have no idea what he means until I realize what he injected into my leg must have an adverse reaction to the pills I took. This means I’ll be coherent soon, which is a good and bad thing because I’m afraid of what I might say.

Bowie sweeping me away in the middle of night has everything inside of me tightening in all the right ways. It also reminds me it’s been a very long time since I’ve had sex and that’s because of choice, not lack of options.

I’m fussy with my shoes and they just go on my feet. So you can imagine what I’m like with a man. But Bowie is ticking all the right boxes, even if he is younger than me. I don’t have an issue with it, and neither does he clearly as he gently rubs my exposed lower back as one of the ties on my gown has come undone.

It sends goose bumps from head to toe.

When we turn the corner, I feel a slow pull and am slowly being sucked back into my body. I no longer am watching Bowie, floating above. I am looking at him dead in the eyes and those blue eyes will be the death of me.

“You’re back,” he says with a relieved sigh. “Hello.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I try again and croak, “Hi.”

He smiles which does nothing to help this growing obsession. “We’re almost there.”

All I can do is nod and even though my muscles are slowly regaining strength, I don’t let Bowie go. I like being nestled against him this way. We pass the theater and stop in front of a small set of stairs which leads to the projection booth.

“This is our stop.”

I arch a brow, but don’t question it. I’m unsure if my unsteady legs will hold me up, but I carefully place my feet onto the cool floor and stand. Instantly, I wobble, but don’t fall because Bowie quickly stands, wrapping his hands low on my waist.

“Okay?” he asks, questioning if it’s all right to let me go.

I nod, but miss his touch the moment he does.

He ensures no one is coming as he climbs the stairs and opens the door. He waits by it, which is my cue to follow. And I do without question.

The moment I pass him by, his hand shoots out and he grips my upper arm. I peer down at our connection, certain where he touches me my skin is on fire. “Trust me?”

“No,” I reply with a smile.

He laughs and the sound twists my stomach into knots. “Good, you probably shouldn’t.”

His warning only has me wanting to surrender all the more.

I enter the booth to see a patient sitting in front of the small window with a large movie projector behind him.Gone with the Windplays on the screen. The theater is quite beautiful. It’s fitted with red velvet seats and the walls are adorned with gold décor of various sculptures.

The large arch at the front of the theater sits above a small wooden stage. I imagine in its heyday, this place was the talk of the town. Now, it provides movie nights for people like me.

I don’t know what to do, so I wait for Bowie to speak.

“How long do we have?”

“Fif-fifty on-one minutes,” the man says with a stutter. I like him as he has kind eyes.

Bowie nods, accepting the watch from him. “If we’re not back in time, you know what to do.”

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