I’ve been waiting for the goddamn door to open for over an hour. Safiya and my crew are hurdled in a corner, and Aras… Well, he looks just as distressed as I feel. His reason for said distress, however, isn’t Cigs, but…
“Darius…” He sighs his brother’s name for the sixth time, I think. Or maybe it’s the ninth. I’ve seriously lost count.
He pulls the phone away from his ear and pinches the bridge of his nose, then exhales a long, tiresome breath. To his left, Magner has one foot propped against the wall behind him, and is studying his best friend with a frown on his face and his arms folded across his chest.
“I didn’t do shit wrong, okay?” Aras tells Darius, who has apparently learnt of the things that happened at the Lutkusestate tonight. “Fred and his son fucked us over; I simply gave them a taste of their own medicine.” He then goes on to talk extensively, too quickly in fluent Lithuanian, which is way out of my league.
I look at Magner and arch a brow at him, to which he shrugs, making me chuckle.
Someone comes to sit next to me, pressing their body to the side of mine.
“Hey.”
I turn and look at Alex, who has both his legs stretched out next to mine and is smiling at me.
“Hey,” I say, returning his smile.
“How’re you holding up?”
I lift a shoulder. “I’d be better if I had an update on Cigs’ health.”
“Oh, she’ll befine,” Alex assures. “Our Cigs knows a thing or two about living through the worst of things.”
“I seriously wish I had your confidence.”
He nudges my elbow with his. “You of all people know what surviving a parent’s brutality does to you, Ledge,” he tells me, then rests the side of his head against mine. “It solidifies you in ways nothing, and no other experience ever will. Death seems more like an adventure than a threat; your life turns into an object you feel the itch to gamble time and again.”
“If that’s the case, then you’re just as good at knowing what it feels like,” I remind him. “Your uncle was a monster to you, too, just like my mother was to me, and the Adlers were to Cigs.”
“Eh.” He sighs. “It’s in the past now, and despite it having scarred our memories, I believe that we’re better because of it.”
I hum. “True.”
We’re silent for a while, and somehow, having Alex next to me makes me feel calm and more…grounded. I soak in as much of the quiet as I can; I let it take over, if only for a bit.
There’s a little crack in the ceiling just above me, and I don’t know why, but I find it fascinating that it’s just…sitting there. It can’t move, nor can it fix itself. It’s just fuckingthere.
Is this what it’s like when someone loses their mind? It sure does feel like I’m losing mine.
“Ledge?”
I let go of a breath. “Yeah?”
“Three doctors and two nurses have passed us by, and they’ve all given your hands different shades of horrifying looks. I’m pretty sure they thought you’ve either escaped the mental ward, or you’ve injured yourself and have fallen into shock.”
I stare at his impassive face for a few seconds, but have to look away when a sudden wave of laughter rips out of me. I can’t help it; it just happens.
“I’m being serious,” Alex deadpans.
“I know, I know.” I laugh again. “It’s just the way you said it that made me lose it.”
“Christ’s sake,” he mutters. “Will you please go wash your hands? Pretty please? As much as I appreciate the aesthetic you’re pulling off, we don’t want the staff here to think Aras has ties with a bunch of loose cannons.”
I glance at the hands in question. There’s dried, slightly crusted blood on them, along with small, soggy chunks of skin, both on my palms and my fingernails.
“Do you want me to take a picture of them so that you can get it framed for your bedroom later?” Alex sasses.
I roll my eyes. “Of course not, Alex. I may be a weirdo but I’m notthatmad.”
