Page 48 of Death Kiss

Anger has me on my feet, the chair tipping back and crashing to the floor.

‘That’s not fair.’

‘Fair?’ My laugh is maniacal. ‘What’s fair about me finding you beaten to a pulp in an alley, not knowing if you’d survive? Me having to sit through two days of people telling me not to expect a miracle, but to hope for the best. I sat here not knowing if our plan had been discovered or if you betrayed me, flitting between worry and rage. That’s not fair, Liam.’

He doesn’t have an answer for that, his gaze dropping to the thin hospital blanket.

‘I don’t even know who you are anymore. I’ve been trying to keep us from falling apart, and the whole time you’re out here taking a fucking crowbar to our relationship.’ His face contorts as if struck. ‘The man I fell in love with would never have betrayed me. Wouldn’t have lied to my face. You need to figure this out, Liam, because it’s hurting us both to stick to this plan and see it through.’

‘Kat—’

A nurse appears at the door, looking concerned at my yelling.

‘I need to go,’ I say, struggling to fight back tears.

‘Kat, please?’ Liam tries to sit and grunts in pain, looking like it hurts enough to move that he might throw up.

‘I can’t be here right now.’

It kills me to leave him there, but I desperately need air. Knowing he’s okay gives me the reassurance I need to allow myself to be truly furious with him. To let the hurt and betrayal sweep over me. By the time I’m outside, the tears are two matching waterfalls dripping from my face and soaking my jumper.

Thankfully, no one thinks it strange to see someone falling apart outside a hospital.

I hold myself together as best I can until I get home, throwing myself on our bed and sobbing until I have no tears left. On the edge of a desperately needed sleep, I harden my resolve.

I’ve been letting emotions hold me back for too long.

It’s time to end this.

TWENTY-ONE

LIAM

Sitting up makes me feel like I’m on the waltzers, the room lurching and spinning violently. If I lie perfectly still, I almost feel like I’m okay enough to convince myself to move, only to realise real fast that I’m not. Still, I need to try. Kat hasn’t called or texted since she left yesterday, and it’s the longest I’ve gone without contact since I found her again.

The pain of my injuries is nothing compared to the thought of her hating me.

So I push myself again, and almost get myself sitting before my stomach contents violently exit my mouth in a torrent of acrid liquid.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say to the nurse, Kim, collapsing backwards and wincing as I wipe my mouth.

‘What did I tell you, William?’ She rushes over and sighs. ‘Lie still before you do yourself another injury. You can’t push past a concussion, no matter how hard you try.’

‘Shit, I’m sorry,’ I say again, hating that I’ve made her job that bit harder. ‘I was trying to reach my phone.’

Kim shakes her head. ‘I don’t know what you did to piss off that sweet girl, but if she hasn’t answered the first twenty times, she might need a little space.’

‘I need her.’

‘You need to lie there and have a long, hard think about whatever led you to this,’ she says, gesturing at me in the bed before mopping up vomit with paper towels. ‘At least you didn’t hit the bed this time. Stop trying to be Superman and realise that the sooner you behave yourself, the sooner you can go home.’

I hate this.

Stuck in a bed. Unable to so much as go to the bathroom. Having to piss into a fucking bag. People flitting in and out, checking on me. Touching me. Eyes widening at my scars. The questions. And all without my girl. I can’t take it.

Kim finishes the cleaning and looks at me with an expression of pity that I detest. But she’s just doing her job. And she’s kind. It’s not her fault I’m such a monumental fuck-up.

Kim writes something on my chart before handing me my phone. ‘Keep your backside in bed, Clark Kent.’