“Didn’t she catch you two together?” the friend asks. Their conversation fades away as they leave the bathroom. Air. I need air. I slump down on the closed toilet lid and try desperately to get myself together. Skin prickling all over. I don’t want anyone to know what I just heard. Heart palpitating. I’m in shock that Jake would share something so personal with the girl he cheated on me for. I’m going to be sick. No. Keep it together, Rose. Think of Max. Think of being in his arms. Think of the words he said earlier tonight, just after he’d nearly brought you to orgasm. ‘You’re a gorgeous, intelligent woman who keeps me on my toes with your sassy mouth and incredible body. You’re who I want to be with tonight, no one else.’ Was a single word Jake said to me true? He’d pretended to be so incredibly supportive and understanding, when all the while, he was anything but. To him, I was a joke. Knowing that he’d betray me like that with others is devastating.
“Rose, are you still in here? We were getting worried about you.”
I jump as I hear Lia’s voice. I have no idea how long I’ve been gone from the table, but obviously, it’s been a while. Getting to my feet, I flush the toilet to give myself an extra moment before opening the door. I plaster my public smile on my face before rubbing my stomach. “Remind me to skip the lasagna the next time,” I groan. “That stuff is so rich that it’s running right on through.”
Lia grimaces, seeming to attribute my strained expression to overindulgence. “The check’s already been taken care of if you want to rush Max home before you have to …”
I can’t help but laugh as she leaves her sentence hanging. I wash my hands then throw an arm around her shoulders. “It’s a bodily function, chick. I know you’d rather talk about Max’s enormous cock, but I simply don’t have the time tonight. Don’t worry, though, I should feel better by tomorrow, and we can discuss it over lunch. Why don’t you snap a picture of Lucian’s tonight and we can compare them?”
As expected, the combination of bathroom talk combined with Max’s asset size has her overlooking everything in her haste to escape from me. She is nearing a sprint back to the table while I follow at a more leisurely pace. Max is on his feet and waiting for me when I arrive. He looks at me in concern as he asks, “Are you okay, sweetheart? I was getting concerned.”
“I’m fine,” I attempt to reassure him. “Just a little full from dinner.” Showing yet another reason she’s a great friend, Lia has pulled Lucian from behind the table and they’re ready to leave. She probably told him I’m in serious danger of soiling my underwear in his friend’s restaurant. God, I love that girl.
We all say our good-byes. Lucian and Lia live only a few blocks away, so they leave on foot while Max takes my hand and steers me to where his car is parked. Ever the gentleman, he opens my door and waits until I’m belted in before shutting it. He’s quiet as he navigates the downtown traffic. When we’re in the quieter residential area, he asks, “What happened back there?”
I roll my eyes. I’ve never been quizzed so thoroughly about a bathroom visit before. “Do you want a verbal or a written report?” I ask dryly.
He ignores my snide remark. “You looked as pale as a ghost when you came back to the table. Something upset you.”
“Yeah, about a five pounds of pasta,” I snap. “For the love of all things holy, can we please not talk about this? Even I have some limits and giving you an in-depth look into my bathroom habits is one of them.”
I see his lips quirk, as his shoulders appear to relax. He’s accepting my explanation, and I’m beyond grateful. He’s the last person I want to know what Jake said about me. Plus, if I’m completely honest, a part of me is terrified that he feels the same way.
Does he find me disgusting? Now that he’s seen my scars, can he ever truly want me? How do you desire someone who’s so very far from perfect? Max is the epitome of handsome. Why would he settle for damaged goods? He won’t, Rose. He’ll kick you out eventually.
I feel a sharp pang as it hits me with the force of a lightning bolt. I care about him. Maybe it started out sexual, but he’s a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known. I ache to know what it feels like to be the woman who he finally gives his heart to. But that’ll never happen now. He knows how screwed up I am. And like Jake, he feels sorry for me. It seems I’m destined to be a burden to those I care about. How much longer can I continue to do that to them—and to myself? The answer to that question haunts me as the car moves through a darkness that rivals the bleakness of my soul.
9
Rose
I would remember this night in the years ahead as a turning point in my life.
I’ve read that when people decide to kill themselves, there’s often no emotion involved. And after Max and I arrive home that evening, I am icy calm. Unlike other times when some stress has driven me to cut myself, this time, I am almost like a robot as I assure Max that I am going to sleep in my own bed due to my continued stomach issues. He’s concerned and hesitant to leave me, but I insist.
I will no longer be anyone’s burden. She’s a sicko. Jake wouldn’t have her back if she begged. I will no longer be anyone’s burden. I’ve taken the liberty of removing the things from your life that were a burden. I will no longer be anyone’s burden. She’s covered in scars from where she cuts herself. I will no longer be anyone’s burden. The click of the bathroom door echoes within the pristine white walls. The snap of the plastic razor under my shoe is almost deafening. Or is that the strong beat of my heart? By removing the guard, I am creating the perfect blade. There is humming in my ears as I remove my clothing, leaving on only my bra and panties. Since when do I hum? There is no plan. I just need the sting of pain. What does it matter if Max wants me to stop? I am little more than a pretty project to him. I will no longer be anyone’s burden. Tomorrow, I’ll pack my bags and find somewhere else to live. But tonight, I need the sweet agony that only the feel of my flesh slicing will give to me. Regardless of wrong or right, I need to bleed.
* * *
I’m uneasy. The feeling only gets stronger as the minutes pass. Something happened to Rose tonight when she went to the bathroom, and it had nothing to do with an upset stomach. The woman who’d left the table and the one who’d returned a while later barely resembled each other. She’d been pale, but the most disturbing part had been her eyes. They’d been vacant, eerily so. And that hadn’t changed on the drive home. She’d looked exactly the same way when she’d closed the door in my face just moments ago.
I continue to pace the floor, not knowing what to do. I don’t want her to feel as if I’m watching her every move, but there is no way I can go to bed without seeing her again. Hell, she’s slept in my arms since the first night under my roof, and I hadn’t realized how much I’ve come to crave that in such a short amount of time. I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but there had been something so right the first night she’d settled so naturally there.
After a few more circles around my bedroom, I’ve had enough. She can be pissed off at me all she wants, but I have to know she’s okay. In a few long strides, I’m at her door. I knock before trying the knob, only to find it locked. I mutter a curse before pounding on the wood once again. “Rose, open up, sweetheart!” There is nothing but silence. “Baby, if you don’t open this door, I’m going to break it down! Fuck,” I hiss; I step back, barreling against the thick wood. It takes me a few more tries before the door splinters away from the lock and crashes inward. My eyes go automatically to the bathroom, and I see one of her feet in the doorway. There is no sign of movement as I bolt forward.
“Oh God.” I freeze. So much blood. Her eyes are closed and her hair looks like a crimson slash against her white skin. I shut down the part of me that wants to fall apart. Her life depends on me keeping it together—if it’s not already too late. I drop to my knees and begin quickly looking for the injury. I have to stop the bleeding immediately. A quick glance at her wrists shows nothing, but possibly more scars. I file that away for another time and focus on her thighs.
The blood is definitely heavier there. The once white bandage that covered her stitches is now bright red. I grab a towel from the rack on the wall and wipe the area until I locate a spot just inches above. Oh, fuck. Blood is pouring from what looks like a fresh cut, and I fear she’s hit an artery this time. I bundle up her discarded clothing and use it to elevate her leg. This type of injury I know can be deadly, and I immediately begin applying pressure to staunch the flow of blood. I use my other hand to check her pulse and am relieved to feel the reassuring thud, although it seems too slow.
Still keeping the steady pressure against her wound, I reach into my pocket and pull my cell phone out. I don’t bother to call Matt. He’d told me on his last trip here that unless I was certain it wasn’t life threatening, I needed to call 911 instead of him. I give the dispatcher my address along with the situation, and she assures me that they have an ambulance on the way. She offers to remain on the line, but I drop the phone instead of continuing to talk. I need to focus on what I’m doing.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to try to rouse her, but if it’s an artery, I don’t want her waking up to panic. She needs to remain calm so she doesn’t speed up the pumping of her heart, which would increase the blood flow from the artery. I hear sirens in the distance and grab the phone from the floor. “The front door is locked,” I tell the dispatcher. “I can’t leave her so have them break it down.” I hear her relay the information, and a few minutes later, the sound of wood splintering once again fills my house.
I’m moved out of the way as the emergency personnel take over. I answer as many of their questions as I can before she’s loaded onto a stretcher. They ask that I follow them instead of riding along. I want to argue, but I know I’ll just be causing them to delay seconds that they may need to save her. I grab the keys to my car and am behind them in seconds. I place a quick call to Matt, letting him know what’s happening, and he promises to meet us there. Luckily, the hospital she’s been taken to is his, which means he’ll be able to get more information than he would have otherwise.
I consider calling Lucian and Lia but decide to wait until I have more information. Rose is against them knowing, but with what’s happened tonight, that decision is out of her hands. She needs to be surrounded by the people who love her, and I intend to see she gets that. I also know her parents need to be informed, although I have mixed feelings there. A big part of me feels that they gave up their rights when they tossed their daughter out onto the street because she wouldn’t go along with their plan for her life.
The outline of the hospital is visible in the distance, and as I follow the ambulance to the emergency entrance, they stop at the side doors while I screech into the first available space and park. Matt is standing to the side with a grim look on his face as Rose is unloaded from the ambulance. The whole scene sends a flashback racing through my head that threatens to bring me to my knees. I see a look of understanding in his eyes before he reaches out a hand to steady me. “They radioed ahead. They have the bleeding under control. Go around to the waiting area and I’ll be out as soon as I’ve done a preliminary assessment.” With those words, he’s rushing after the stretcher and I’m left on the sidewalk.
The adrenaline rush that I’ve been on is crashing, and for a moment, I want nothing more than to get back in my car and drive away from it all. This hospital is the very place where I once lost the most important thing in my life, and I haven’t been back inside since then. The long, sterile hallways inside will haunt me until the day I die. The many prayers I once uttered in a small room here went unanswered, and because of it, I lost my faith in God, love, and myself.
I take a fortifying breath before walking slowly toward the entrance doors. I can’t be another person in Rose’s life who lets her down. Regardless of my own fears, she needs me. Tomorrow is soon enough to fall apart—today, I’ll be strong for the woman who desperately needs someone to believe in her.
10
Max
Hours pass as I continue to sit in the cramped family waiting room. Others come and go. Some even attempt conversation with me but quickly give up when I give only clipped replies. I could give a fuck about discussing the weather or how the Panthers are doing in football this year. Rose is all that I can think about—anything else is just a waste of time.
When Matt finally comes in, I feel a moment's panic before I note his relaxed expression. I’ve been on the receiving end of his bad-news face before, and this isn’t it. I feel some of the tension seep from my back as he sinks into a chair and motions for me to do the same. “She’s going to be okay,” he says without further delay. “She nicked her femoral artery, but thankfully, she didn’t completely sever it. We’ve given her two pints of blood, and I’ve repaired the artery.”
“Thank God,” I sigh before scrubbing my hands over my face.
Before I can fully relax, his tone goes serious. “If you hadn’t found her when you did, Max, we would be having a very different conversation right now. For a woman her size, two pints of blood is a lot. People bleed out within minutes with an injury such as hers. This is twice in a few days that she’s cut herself. The age of her scarring says that she’s been doing this for some time, but I have to believe it’s escalating. Was she upset about anything?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, “but I think so. We went to dinner with friends, and she excused herself at one point to use the restroom. She was gone a long time, and when she returned, it was obvious something had occurred. She blamed it on an upset stomach, but I didn’t believe her. I don’t think her parents have her new cell phone number, but she may have called them for some reason.”
“She needs help, Max,” Matt says bluntly. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but one of my colleagues, Preston Holland, came to speak to me a few minutes ago when he found out that Rose had been brought in. Apparently, he’s a neighbor of her parents. He said that they had called him over twice when she attempted to kill herself as a teenager. The first time, she overdosed on her mother’s anxiety medication, and the second time, she slit her wrists. He was disturbed by how her parents treated the whole matter and was unnerved by their indifference to something he saw as very serious. He said he tried to talk to her father several times about getting treatment for her, but he always brushed it aside as her being difficult and trying to get attention.”
My head is spinning as I remember the scars I’d seen earlier on her wrists. Fuck, she’s tried to kill herself before. Did she accidentally cut too deep tonight or was it her intention to do much worse? Baby, no. “I don’t know what to do,” I admit, feeling helpless.
“We don’t have to decide anything today,” he says, “because I’m going to keep her overnight. But we need to be thinking of a game plan. Going by what you and Preston have told me, I don’t know how much help her parents will be. She is an adult, so they don’t have any legal bearing on her choices and care, but they are next of kin. I’d recommend treatment in a facility for at least thirty days, but most people are resistant to that step—especially at first. She needs to have the support of people who care about her and will advocate her getting help.”
I feel more than a little depressed as I say, “Outside of her parents, to my knowledge, she only has Lia, Lucian, and me.”
“Why don’t you give them a call and ask them to come by tomorrow afternoon? We can all get together and discuss the best approach. I’m in a bit of a tricky situation here. I can’t share anything further with you as her doctor, but as your friend, I’ll assist in any way I can. As reluctant as we may be, I need to contact her parents and update them on their daughter’s condition. Just try to make sure you’re here when and if they visit. I’ll keep an eye out as well.”
“Can I see her now?” I ask, needing to reassure myself that she’s okay. I can’t get the image of her lying on the bathroom floor covered in blood out of my head. I’d never seen so much blood. The smell. Sticky. Warm. I can’t get the image of her surrounded by the pool of blood out of m
y head. Perhaps, I never will. What is this girl doing to me? I’m not sure it’s good for me to stay …
“Sure.” He nods as we both get to our feet. “She’s probably going to sleep for the next several hours, so don’t be alarmed by that. You should go home and get some rest yourself. We’ll watch over her here.”
I feel my chest tighten as we make our way down familiar halls. It’s not the same. She’s fine. Keep it together.
Matt stops at a door at the end of the hall. “I going to check on a couple of patients since I’m here, then I’m going to catch some sleep. Give me a call if anything comes up. If not, I’ll see you here in the afternoon around two.”
“I really appreciate it.” I shake his hand before he turns to leave. I walk into the darkened room and am almost relieved. Rose looks like an angel as she lies on the crisp, white hospital sheets. She has an IV attached to one hand and still looks pale. Otherwise, she appears unscathed by what happened earlier. I know, though, that looks can be deceiving, and below the surface, she’s more damaged than ever.
I pull up a chair next to her bed and sink down heavily onto it. I take her hand and thread my fingers through hers before laying my head back. I’m too exhausted to process the events of the last few hours or to contact Luc and Lia, and at this point, I think that’s a godsend. I have no idea what will happen when she wakes, but for now, I can sleep knowing she’s alive to face another tomorrow.
* * *
My mouth feels as if it’s stuffed with cotton as I attempt to swallow. My eyes are heavy and fight me as I try to open them. Obviously, I didn’t sleep well last night or I wouldn’t still be this tired. I feel a moment’s panic as I think I may be late for work. I struggle through the layers of fog until I’m finally blinking away the vestiges of sleep. Or so I think. I don’t recognize my surroundings. Am I dreaming?