Birds.
Vaughn called me Dove. But he was also Falcon.
Was that why I kept seeing birds… Rome called me Starling.
Why choose birds? Because they could spread their wings and fly. They could escape. Those were the words he used, right?
By the end of lunch, I still couldn't think of what the words were. It was making me crazy.
Janice came in. I had to take another pill, and unfortunately this time I had no way to get away from it, so I just swallowed it. This whole time that they were handing me pills, I never once asked what they were. I’d just taken everything they'd given me.
Whatever this one was, hopefully it wouldn’t drown the world out again. Or maybe it should. The drugs offered an escape to the floating place. All I ever wanted to do was escape. Get away from my life, my uncle—disappear.
If I could really disappear then they would all be safe. There would be no reason for my uncle to go after them.
The hum of conversation, the television, shuffling steps, and other ambient noises seemed so loud as I stepped into the community room. They scraped against my skin and made my head ache. At the same time, awareness slithered over me.
It was the first time I’d walked into the room. But it was hardly my first time there. The room was familiar. My gaze went to the window with a little crisscross pattern on the glass, which muted the blue skies beyond. We really were in a cage.
Janice gave me a little nudge, all friendly and encouraging. “Off you go. Have fun.”
Right.
With a sigh, I scanned the room and froze.
Seated at a table next to the window I’d just been staring at, was Freddie.
It couldn’t be…
That was dreamtime Freddie, right?
That was the Freddie I’d seen.
Not this one…
Freddie.
Dressed in the same kind of gray pajamas I wore. His hair had the raked off his face look, like he'd been forcing his fingers through it over and over again. There was an alertness in those blue eyes. A sharpness that was all too familiar.
On slow faltering steps, I made my way over to the table where he was sitting and stared down at him.
Oh my God, let this be real.
Let him be real.
“Is this seat taken?"
CHAPTER 23
FREDDIE
“Is this seat taken?” Four of the best words to come out of her mouth since she called me to tell me she was leaving. Even better, she said them to me directly after walking—albeit really slowly—to the table. No more wheelchair.
“Pretty sure he saved it for you,” Bodhi said when I didn’t answer right away. I jerked my gaze off of her to glare at him. He smirked. “What? You don’t want her to sit there?”
Psychopath. And really unimportant right now. I switched my attention back where it belonged. Unease flickered in her eyes. Dammit. Guilt was a living, breathing monster slithering through my veins. “Yes,” I told her. “Of course, the seat isn’t taken.”
Hesitation marked her as she glanced between me and Bodhi. Our buddy Chester wasn’t here yet, so Bodhi had torn apart the puzzle and started putting it back together. Didn’t matter how far we got, he deconstructed it every day and started over.
At this rate, we’d never finish it.
“Please,” I added when she still hesitated. “Sit down?”
We could move if she didn’t want to sit with Bodhi, but she only cast Bodhi another apprehensive look before she finally sat down. Awareness of the nurses and orderlies keeping an eye on us—or not as the case may be—I slid a stack of pieces over to her.
“Freddie?” She stopped my hand, covering mine with hers.
“Yeah,” I said, locking eyes with her. “I’m really here.”
“Prove it?”
“Boo-Boo, I can recite poetry about your pretty pussy if you want, but as fun as that would be…” Truthfully, it would be fun as fuck. “We’re in mixed company. And I don’t know that it would prove anything to you.”
I’d been trying for days to get through to her. She searched my face, her dark eyes so intent, and there was a spark there. A spark that had been missing.
“I don’t mind talking about her pretty pussy,” Bodhi offered up. “We could talk about skinning people too. So, it really is up to you.”
Surprise rippled over her face and she pressed two fingers to her mouth. “He’s an artist,” I explained. “Really, just focus on me, okay?”
Please don’t slip away where I can’t follow you.
“That piece,” Bodhi said, dragging our attention to him. He pointed to a piece that Boo-Boo played with. She paused to look down at it then over to where he was working. Rising, she leaned over the table carefully and slotted the piece into place. Bodhi didn’t take his gaze off of her the whole time. The slow, deliberate nature of her movements worried me.
Was she in pain? I skipped asking the stupid questions. She was stuck here and she had scars from slitting her wrists open on her arms. A dozen different questions hammered their way through me, but I strangled all of them. Soaking in the sight of her, I waited while she turned over the pieces in front of her—the side without the picture—and matched three or four pieces right off.
“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she said in this sad, almost disbelieving little voice that sucker punched me.
“Well, I get that,” I admitted, maintaining a visual on where the nurses and staff were. They were pretty lazy about their observation here, but it only took one slip. “I mean, I am awesome and you know, I keep a fully booked schedule. I had to squeeze you in.”
A snicker escaped her. The sound was so genuine and her that I sagged in the chair. “You’re right,” she said, before reaching across the table to snake a puzzle piece from in front of me.
“Can I get that in writing?” The quip brought her smile back. For the first time in what? Ten days? Two weeks? However long this hellish empty eternity had been, I could breathe again.
“If I had a pen,” she offered. The smile faded all too fast as she gave a little shrug.
“Fine,” I said, magnanimously with a royal wave of my hand. “I’ll allow it. You can just tell me what I was right about.”
Another flash of her smile, only this one vanished nearly as soon as it appeared. “You’re awesome,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Not once did she look at me.
“I thought you were a dream, but you’re really here. Were all of our conversations real?”
“Maybe.” As much as I wished I could offer her a different answer, maybe that was all I had. “You’ve been pretty out of it. But you’re not today…” Did I ask why and push it? Or did I just accept the gift for what it was?
She peeked at me from beneath her lashes. Her dark hair tumbled over one shoulder as she finger combed it. “I didn’t take my pills this morning.” Her throat convulsed a little. “I cheated. But—I couldn’t not take the one at lunch.”
Yeah. I got that. I’d managed to avoid most of them but it wasn’t always easy. “Thank you.”
“For what?”