Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
The officer’s footsteps trail down the hall, and the woman holds her cell phone up to her ear.
I don’t stick around to listen to her conversation.
I take the elevator to the second floor.
When the doors open, I walk down the hall and stop at Room 236.
I know I shouldn’t be here, that I should turn around and walk away, but I can’t. I need to get a glimpse of the guy who’s ruined all of our lives.
Letting out a breath, I open the door and step inside the room,
A blond guy who looks about my age is sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a “‘Top Dawg” t-shirt.
“I asked you for more Jell-O an hour ago.” He groans, not looking up at me. “Are you here to tell me you don’t have any more?”
“No.” I step closer. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Well, could you make yourself useful and see what the hell is going on with my lunch?”
“Nah, I can’t do that.” I step closer. “I don’t work here.”
“Then get out and empty my trash on the way out.”
“Okay.” I close the gap between us. “That’s a very good way to word things.”
He finally looks up at me, squinting through slightly swollen eyes.
On his wristband, there’s a yellow sticker, and I know from several conversations that it means he’s in good condition. He can walk if he chooses to.
He can blink, talk, and eat without the aid of any machine.
He’s placed Scarlett two steps from the grave, but he’s practically unscathed…
“No need to hover over me for the trash can,” he says to me. “It’s over there, dude.”
“No, it’s right here.” I punch him square in the jaw. The impact knocks him off the bed and onto the floor.
I stomp him repeatedly as he tries to get up, cursing him, hating him.
Stooping down to his level, I pummel his face with my fists, and his blood colors my fingers.
“Please, stop! Help! Help Me!” He cries for mercy, but I don’t show him any.
Every time he screams, I hit him harder. Any time he attempts to get away, I stomp his chest.
I’m not sure when a security guard runs into the room to try to get between us, but it takes four more of them to get me to stop.
He’s barely breathing by then.
41
EASTON
Alabama’s Star Quarterback, Easton Rush, Charged with Attempted Murder; Held Without Bail
University of Alabama Issues ‘No Comment’ on Easton Rush’s Team Status
Unapologetic: Easton Rush Shows No Remorse in Strangling Drunk Driver Who Hit Girlfriend
42
TULLY
Four Weeks Later
I open my eyes, shocked that Easton isn’t in our room today.
For some strange reason, it feels like he hasn’t been here in a while, and this room is a bit more elegant and softer than the one we were in before.
Ever since I regained consciousness weeks ago, I can’t tell the morning from afternoon, and the “forced walking” that the nurse makes me do every day leaves me exhausted and drained for hours.
The one thing I can’t forget though, is the last argument we had. The pain and the guilt gnaw at my heart every fucking day.
If we’d been on better terms, we would’ve never had to go to Gayle’s that night. We would’ve never argued and danced with death.
No matter how many ways I try to spin it, the truth is evident to me: One argument pretty much costs us our lives.
All over a fucking guy…
Sitting up in bed, I spot my sister’s foot moving and immediately hit the “call nurse” button.
“Yes, Miss Crane?” Her voice sifts through the speaker.
“My sister is moving!” I say. “She’s finally waking up.”
She rushes inside and I point to the bed.
“Oh, Miss Crane.” She shoots me a sympathetic smile. “I’ve told you about this before. It’s just an involuntary muscle twitch.”
Oh…
“It is time for me to check her vitals, though.”
I nod, and watch the routine, noticing that they’ve added more tests and tubes, not less. They’ve wheeled her through multiple operations and her frail and helpless body remains the same day after day.
It’s like they’re cruelly allowing her to hold onto life as well.
When the nurse leaves, my sister’s foot twitches again.
That’s definitely not involuntary…
Grabbing onto my bed rails, I take my time climbing out of my bed and into a wheelchair. Then I roll over to her.
“Are you awake?” I ask. “Are you moving your leg on your own?”
Nothing.
I sigh, but her eyes slowly open and shut.
“Can you see me?”
She blinks.
“Are you trying to talk?”
She blinks again.
“Okay, wait.” I roll over to a chair and pick up a notepad. I write out the letters of the alphabet in three rows, and roll back over to her side.
“Don’t struggle to talk,” I say. “Just blink when I have the right letter, okay?”
She blinks, and I smile.
“Is the first letter a vowel?”
Yes.
“Okay, good,” I say. “I’m going to point all those out one by one…”