Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
He looked concerned, genuinely upset after the whole thing with Anja.
But I was right, wasn’t I? He didn’t actually care. How could he? He never checked in on me after that. I haven’t set eyes on him since.
I guess I was right when I accused him of not giving a shit about me. It doesn’t mean I want it to be right. I was hoping he would argue or try to prove me wrong. His kiss was a small reprieve, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to hear him say it. As always, the memory of that night here in my room makes me feel a little sick. Not because of what he said or did, but how he was. Practically unhinged, wasted out of his mind. And that day, after the fight. I smelled the whiskey on his breath and saw how glassy his eyes were starting to get. He was drinking in the middle of the day, probably sitting alone in his office.
He’s not doing well. I can only imagine it’s gotten worse since then.
I can’t believe I care, but I’m not going to waste time telling myself I shouldn’t. I have a fucked-up relationship with him. Arguing with myself about it isn’t going to change anything. I have to accept that, for some reason, he’s taken hold of me. No matter how much I wish it were possible, I can't free myself.
I have to see him. Not because I think he’ll help me, but because he needs help. The thought of him being in pain causes me pain—my chest hurts just imagining it.
It’s late enough that the halls should be pretty much empty. What’s the worst that could happen? He’ll tell me to mind my own business. But at least I’ll be able to see him and maybe get through to him that there’s someone who cares whether he drinks himself to death or not.
It’s as good an excuse as any to get up and sneak into the hall. It’s not like I haven’t wanted to do this for weeks, but at least now there’s a plausible excuse for it. All I have to do is dart over to the elevator and take it to Lucas’s floor. I don’t hear anything out here—no voices, footsteps, or even any loud TV or music coming from the other rooms.
I jog over to the elevator and press the button, bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet, waiting for it to arrive. The last thing I need is for somebody to see me out here and wonder why I’m—
It happens so fast. There are no footsteps, no noise at all. One minute I am standing, and then suddenly, I’m on my knees. Pain radiates through my head from the back, and black dots appear over my vision. My entire body sways like a branch in the wind, and I fall against the wall, hitting the floor before even realizing what’s happened. Nausea grips me tight, but the pain is worse.
My vision blurs, and I’m afraid to put a hand to my head since I don’t know what I’m going to find.
I don’t even think to look up and see who did it. I’m too busy trying to catch up with what’s happening. My thoughts are all jumbled. I can’t think straight. I can’t even see straight. Everything is all swimmy and blurred.
I’ve barely caught my breath before I hear, “Delilah! Oh, my god. Are you okay?”
I blink and find Aspen hovering over me, holding my face between her hands. “What happened?”
I can’t believe how long it takes me to make my tongue work. It’s so heavy. “I… don’t know. Somebody hit me.”
“I thought I heard somebody running, but they were going in the other direction.” She tips my head down to take a look at the back. “Shit. You’re bleeding. We have to get you down to medical right away. Do you think you can walk?”
“I’ll try.”
She helps me stand, and I have to take a second to lean against the wall when the hallway doesn’t stop tilting back and forth. It does eventually, and I lean on Aspen as we get in the elevator and take it down to the medical wing.
“Did you see anyone?” she asks along the way.
“No. They came at me from behind and ran off. I was too dazed to get a look at anyone.”
“What a coward,” she mutters. I can only grunt in agreement. Even nodding my head hurts too much.
Who would do this? I knew something had to be coming, but a sneak attack? Even I didn’t expect that.
“You’ll be fine.” Dr. Lauren peels off her gloves before tossing them in a wastebasket. Despite her warm assurance, she looks downright pissed. “It looks like you have a slight concussion. I’m going to give you something for the pain. Other than that, it’s nothing but a shallow laceration. You’ll have to be careful for a couple of days while your scalp is tender.”