Back inside, Ant is grumbling over the wording of the forms, his hands shaking so badly he can barely complete the boxes.
“Can I do the writing?” I ask the hovering nurse, who nods. I take a seat, letting Ant continue to pace in front of me, rubbing the back of his neck as I methodically go through the full list of questions.
He scrawls something that counts as a signature, then a staffer escorts us through two sets of barrier doors to the patient quarters.
The room is nice and basic. Large windows look upon the tranquil landscaped grounds, with blackout curtains if the light proves too invasive. The furniture is simple, a bed, a desk, a chair, a lamp, a bedside table. There are no drawers or easy places to hide anything. Even the bathroom has open shelves for the hairdryer, shampoo, and soap. The towels are hung over railings so nothing can be secreted within their folds.
A nurse comes into the room, taking his temperature, pulse, blood pressure, and goodness knows what else, all the recordings going straight into a tablet computer that goes with them when they leave the room.
“You like Evie?” Ant asks when we’re alone. His frenetic pacing has turned to stillness, his arms wrapped tightly around his midriff.
I’m not sure if he’s making idle conversation or really wants to know. “Yeah, I do.”
“Good. She needs someone to look after her.”
My eyes narrow. Is this meant to be concern?
As far as I’ve seen, Ant hasn’t even asked what his sister had to do to earn him a place here. The low rumble of anger starts, and I struggle to rein it in. Evie won’t appreciate me becoming exasperated by her brother.
I choke back any snarky retorts, muttering, “She reminds me of my sister,” even though she doesn’t. Not any longer.
“I can see that.”
It’s my turn to freeze motionless. Then I pry, certain I must be misunderstanding. “You knew her?”
“We hung together a lot,” he answers, a rough croak in his voice. I go into the bathroom, pouring water into a thin, disposable cup while resentment burns inside me.
Why couldn’t Addie be the one hugging herself to still the shakes? When did the universe decide this wastrel was more important than my sister? Or worse, nobody and nothing decided. Her death and his survival just left to chance. Blind luck.
I pass the cup to him, barely able to meet his gaze as the fury grows apace.
“Did you know she was going to…?” I can’t finish the sentence but Ant nods, picking up the slack.
“I had no idea. She seemed better towards the end. Like she turned a corner and could finally see a path forwards.” He shifts his weight. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear that.”
“How long were you friends?” I ask and flinch at the term, almost snarling. Friends have your back, they don’t help you shoot up in dark alleys and derelict buildings, long abandoned by anyone with any sense.
“A year or two. We used to score together, lived in a squat together for about eight months. Towards the end, we went on methadone together.” He sighs heavily before draining the last of the water, then looking in vain for a place to toss the empty cup, setting it on the bedside table. “She did it with a hell of a lot fewer complaints than me.”
I nod as my hands curl into fists and won’t release, no matter how firmly I instruct them. The pain of her death punches into me anew, the emotions swirling with no place to put them.
So, I focus outward. I clock the way Ant pulses with energy. Now he’s stopped pacing, distress rolls off him in waves.
He doesn’t want to be here.
Evie would do anything to help Ant, but I can see the reluctance on his face, the way he straightens, eyes peering with longing at the world beyond the window. His expression, his posture make it clear he’d rather be anywhere else.
His utter selfishness steals my self-control, rage bubbling just beneath the surface.
Ant feels the shift, straightening slightly. “Listen, I know Addie hurt you but someone—”
He cuts off as I launch myself at him, fury and panic squeezing me like a clenched fist as I get in his face, forcing him back against the wall. A voice screams in the back of my mind.You’re worthless.
“What the fuck would you know about it?” I say in a savage whisper. “You fucking useless junkie.”
Wariness consumes his expression as I stare, diaphragm heaving for each breath, struggling to inflate with the gigantic weight that’s settled on my chest.
“You know, maybe this isn’t the right time.” His voice cracks halfway through, barely audible by the end. “I guess this place costs a lot of—”
