He keened in his sleep. A haunted sound full of agony. His face scrunched up as if he was in pain and tears ran down his cheeks.
I was frozen, watching him writhe and twist, as if trying to escape something only he could see.
Finally, not able to stand the sound of his sobs and screams a moment longer, I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my body close to his. He went rigid. His fingers curled into claws.
But then he relaxed. His skin flush against mine. His face tucked into my neck. I rubbed his back. Long, steady strokes. His breathing evened out. His tears dried.
And I held him.
Long after he returned to less terrifying dreams.
Until the sun rose and a new day had started.
“What do you mean he’s upset?” I asked.
“He plans to check himself out of the hospital. Even though I have advised him that is not a good idea until you have secured him housing. He insists he is leaving today. He is set in his decision and he clearly wasn’t in the mood to listen to anything I had to say. So I think it’s important you find him suitable accommodation as soon as possible. Let me know what you find,” Dr. Howell said.
“Okay. I will. I’ll speak with him now,” I told the doctor.
My heart thumped against my ribcage. Yoss was planning to leave.
I hung up the phone and grabbed my files. I all but ran to the elevator and took it to the second floor.
I should have stopped and spoken with the nurses. I should have made notes and gone over his service plan. There were a dozen boxes I should have checked before going into his room.
I did none of them.
Because I wasn’t thinking about anything but getting to Yoss before he slipped through my fingers once again.
His bed was empty. The covers were pushed back, the pillows askew. But Yoss wasn’t there.
Before I had a chance to freak out, the bathroom door opened and Yoss came out, still wearing a hospital gown. I almost sagged with relief.
“What are you doing?” I asked, sounding out of breath.
Yoss gave me a strange look. “Uh. Using the toilet.” He shuffled back to the bed and pulled back the covers so he could get in. I noted there were fresh bruises on his arms, most likely from the nurses holding him down.
He saw me staring at his arm and grimaced. “They won this round,” he joked wryly, but I didn’t smile.
“You had a nightmare,” I stated.
Yoss’s face hardened. “I always have nightmares. You know that. It’s nothing new.”
“They had to sedate you,” I went on.
“I needed a good night sleep anyway.”
“Yoss—” I began, but he cut me off.
“It doesn’t matter, I’m leaving today.”
“Like hell you are,” I snarled.
Yoss’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s not really your call to make. I can check myself out at any time. I’m not a fucking prisoner, Imogen.”
“Where will you go? Back to that dilapidated house? You’re sick, Yoss. You can’t just go back to living like that!”
“It was good enough for you once, don’t forget,” he hissed.
