Page 13 of Poe: Nevermore

“Just past eight o’clock. The doctor wants to keep you overnight for observation. Just in case.”

My eyes went wide with horror and I locked gazes with him in panic. “No. No, I can’t stay here, Frost. Not overnight.”

Frost studied me carefully, his eyes peering through me. “Poe, relax.” He stood slowly, leaning over me, and softly touched my uninjured hand. His fingers were very warm and I wished that he would hold my hands. I was still freezing. “Listen, I’ll go catch the doctor and bring him here, okay? He needs to make sure you’re stable before we can even think about taking you home. Okay?”

I nodded numbly, staring down at his hand on mine in shame and misery. My free hand, I now noticed, was splotched with a sick shade of violet and three of the fingers were secured by splints. I was such a wreck. Why did he even bother trying to help me? It was beyond my comprehension.

Frost nodded once to me, his icy eyes offering reassurance, then turned and slipped out through the curtain. Shortly thereafter, he returned to sit beside me once more and wait for one of the nurses to bring the doctor.

Doctor Robinson was a middle-aged man who was fairly well built and I imagined was the TV stereotype of the attractive doctor at one point. He had salt-and-pepper hair and dark green eyes that provided an aged Dr. McDreamy look to him. “Miss Poe, how are you feeling?” he asked confidently, as if waiting for me to swoon.

I covertly cleared my throat and was relieved when my voice seemed fairly normal as I answered. “I’m still in some pain, but it’s not bad. I feel pretty good. Well enough to go home.”

Robinson smiled and laughed heartily, approaching to check my heart rate, breathing and temperature. “Well, we’ll see.” All seemed fairly normal and when he shined a small light in my eyes, his smile warmed more. He replaced his equipment and nodded. “The concussion doesn’t seem to be nearly as bad as we’d feared. Let’s see if you can balance.” He extended a hand that reeked of antiseptic and made me nauseous. I took it gingerly, letting him help me ease out of bed and to my feet. The room spun, but I managed to ignore it well enough to stand straight. Still holding my hand, Robinson asked me to take three steps. I obliged with relative ease. I was still wobbly and barely managing to conceal my dizziness, but it was good enough.

Robinson helped me back to sit on the edge of the bed, then began writing a discharge slip for me as he chuckled. “Amazing. Only a few short hours ago, we thought you were a goner, but here I am writing your discharge. You’re very lucky, Miss Poe.” He grinned broadly, flashing perfect teeth, and handed me the slip. “Take care.” He then looked to Frost as he spoke his next words. “You need to wake her every three hours as a precaution. She should only eat clear liquids for the next twenty-four hours. Concussions are very dangerous things.”

My cheeks burned and I took care to look away from both Robinson and Frost, realizing what Frost bringing me here looked like to unknowing eyes.

“Have a good night. Call if anything at all doesn’t seem right,” Robinson said as he vanished through the curtain.

When he was gone, Frost produced my clothes, jacket, keys and wallet and set them near me on the bed. “Are you really okay?” he asked tightly. “That doctor is a moron.”

I met his eyes hesitantly. “Okay enough. I’ll have to call in sick again tomorrow, but that’s okay.”

“What do you want to do?” he asked, his eyes falling to his shoes, his hands diving into his pockets in clear anxiety.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone has to wake you every three hours, Poe.”

I gritted my teeth as I realized what he meant. I lived alone and Frost, who I happened to barely know, was sadly the person I trusted the most. “It’s a silly and unnecessary precaution.”

Frost shook his head, cheeks red with discomfort. “No, not really. My father is a doctor, Poe. Concussions are really dangerous. Sometimes with a concussion, you can’t wake up. It’s possible to fall into a coma or die in your sleep. And I don’t really care that the MRI came back fine or that you’re adept at faking good health.” He looked at me seriously, his eyes seeing through my façade with ease. “I saw you after it happened and I know that concussion is serious. You’re taking a very dangerous risk leaving the hospital tonight, much less staying home alone.”

I began picking at my nails tensely, staring down at them. “What are my options?”

“I can stay with you, you can stay in my apartment, or we can go to my family’s house. I know you barely know me and I barely know you, but you called me and that tells me that you don’t have anyone else you can trust.”

Sadly, I met his gaze, an apology in my eyes. “I’m sorry, Frost. I’m not sure I can even trust you. I only met you a few days ago by chance. I’m not the sort of person that trusts easily.”

He sighed, his eyes giving away a trace of the sadness he felt. “That’s why I suggested my family. I have three younger siblings and my mother is as close to Martha Stewart as they come. I know you don’t know them, but they’re the sort of people that would make you feel…more comfortable with the situation.” Frost’s jaw seemed to tighten and when he spoke again, it was in mild frustration. “I really do care about you, Poe. I want you to know that you can trust me. But I don’t have time to prove it to you before the next time you sleep. So, I’m offering my family as a buffer for now.”

I stared at him for a long time. He was taking care not to meet my eyes, obviously anxious and upset by the whole circumstance. This was not what he had planned. He had meant to gain my trust over time if I decided to let him in, not force me into a situation that was against my nature to accept. And somewhere inside me, buried beneath all the pain, was a part of me that did believe he cared and wanted to help me, even if I didn’t know why. I didn’t believe that he would hurt me, at least not by his own volition.

But then again, I had thought the same thing about Lex.

Lex and Frost were two very different people.

Frost’s face was very pale, as if the day’s events had drained him of blood as badly as they had me. He was covered in my blood and it was clear that this was not the sort of situation that he was prepared for. I began to get the feeling that he opened up to people with as little ease as I did. Once that thought entered my brain, I began to see Frost in a very different light. He was broken too, just slightly farther along the road to recovery than I was. “What happened to you?” I asked, nearly inaudibly.

He looked up at me, a deep and ancient sadness in his eyes. “Too much. I’m not strong enough to tell you now. It’s been a long day.”

I stared into those deep eyes, seeing at once all the memory, all the knowing, all the misery in them. “We’re not so different, are we?” I whispered.

He looked down at my hands as he answered, “No. We’re not.”

After a very long moment, I nodded and agreed to stay with him and his family that night. He vanished through the curtain to let me change into my clothes. As I pulled my sweater over my head, I wondered why he had been staring at my hands. In the course of adjusting the sleeve of my sweater around my bandaged right wrist, it became clear to me, like I had been struck by a bolt of lightning. Carefully, I rolled my left sleeve partway up my forearm and turned my arm over. The scars on my wrist were more than fifteen years old, but there was no mistaking them for what they were.

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