Finding Me (The Bad Boy Series) (9 page)

"We can give you some more meds for the nausea. All of your tests came back clear, no broken bones, just a lot of bruising and swelling. So we will keep you in overnight and we can send you home in the morning. Sound good?" He smiled.
 

"Yes," I answered, not really paying attention to what he had said.
 

"Good, I'll drop by to see you tomorrow. Try and get some rest," he said before writing down some notes and leaving the room.
 

I could feel eyes on me. I looked up through my lashes once more to find Tate standing closer to my bed than before. Low was nowhere to be seen. Where had she gone?
 

"Baby girl, I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered before walking the distance to my bed, pulling me into a hug.
  

"I will be," I whispered softly, running my fingers through my brother’s hair. "Thank you for always being my rock."
 

"I will always be your rock for as long as you need it, baby girl," He pulled back to look me in the eye. "I love you so much, don't ever forget that."
 

"I know."
 I smiled meekly.   

"Fuck me, he really did a number on that beautiful face."
 

My throat constricted, but this time it wasn't to stop the sobs, it was to stop ... my laughter. As I pulled out of Tate's arms I looked towards the door, standing with a huge grin on his face was Ace.
 

"Dude, what the hell?" Tate gritted, turning to Ace and throwing daggers at him with his eyes.
 

"Oh shit, elephant in the room. Got it." He winked, walking into the room and standing next to my bed. "You look sexy as always, Neva."
  

"Ace, how is it possible that you are checking me out when I look like I went a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson?" I smiled. It was nice to see a new face, one that didn't look at me as if I was broken.
 

"Sweetheart, you could be comatose and I would still check you out," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me. Jesus, did this guy have a filter?
 

"You're fucking disgusting." I laughed. Visions of Ace checking me out when comatose only made me laugh harder.
  

"So they tell me." He winked.
  

Nope, no filter. At all.
 

"Douchebag, leave her alone," Low snapped as she walked back into the room.
  

Low had a cup of coffee in her hand. So that's where she went. That woman can't function without her coffee, especially with so little sleep. Not a good combination.
 

"What, everyone wants a piece of me. Isn't that right,
Willow?
" Ace taunted. 

Turning his body towards Low, Ace grinded his hips and moaned. I watched as Low's eyebrows shot right up, clearly stunned. Even I was stunned, no one called her by her full name besides her mom. This could get ugly.
 

The room had fallen completely silent. My eyes darted between Ace and Low. Ace looked completely amused with himself, while Low looked as though she was about to kill.
  

"Not in this fucking lifetime," Low warned, a smile taking over her lips. "Or any other."
 

With that, she took hold of my brother’s arm, gave me a small smile and walked right out of the room, pulling a silent Tate along with her.
  

Well, that was interesting.
 

Turning to Ace, I gave him the what-the-hell face. I had no idea what the hell that was, but judging by Ace's smug smile ... He knew
exactly
what that was. 

"What?" Ace laughed. "What'd I do?"
 

He held his hands up defensively. But there was nothing innocent about Ace. From his buzz cut, to his ... choice of piercings. He was an 'alpha male.' A law student by day, an underground fighter by night, no one messed with him in a court room or in the ring.
 

"Oh, I think you know." I yawned.
  The events of the past couple of hours were starting to take their toll on my body, I was truly exhausted. 

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Ace asked, turning his gaze to me.
 The softness in his voice caught me off guard. This was Ace; Ace didn't do soft and sweet. 

"Is the famous Ace Turner trying to be sweet?" I smiled, avoiding his question.
 My eyes were becoming heavier with every passing second. It was taking every ounce of energy I had left to keep my eyes open.  

"Only for a select few, sweetheart. Get some sleep."
  

Ace’s soft voice was the last thing I remembered before sleep completely consumed me.

I awoke the next morning to an empty room. Nothing but white walls and a grey floor met me as I slowly opened my eyes. The night had been a rough one, I had woken at least eight times during the night. There were no nightmares, not my usual ones at least. I had no grasp of what they were about, but something inside me told me to wake up every time. The fear in those moments had my heart pounding and my skin twitching.  

As I moved my right hand, I realized it was no longer painful. My body still ached but it was dull, nothing like the pain I had the day before. Slowly, I sat up. A jolt of pain suddenly sliced through my head, but quickly faded as I breathed in deep through my nose. When the pain had subsided, I slowly swung my legs over the edge of my bed. Counting to three in my head, I tentatively pushed myself off of the bed and bared  weight on my two feet. The floor beneath my toes was cold against my skin. A shiver rolled through my legs, from my toes and up to my kneecaps. Flexing my toes, I smiled.
  

My first couple of steps were shaky, my feet slowly adjusting to being back on the ground. Placing my hand on the wall, I slowly made my way to the door at the other side of the room, hoping it was the bathroom. I was desperate to pee, my bladder felt like an inflated balloon.
 

Once I'd done my business, I turned to the mirror above the sink. I gasped. My right eye was a mixture of blues and purples, but thankfully not painful to touch. My eyes roamed my face as
 I took in my injuries. The small cut on my upper lip, the gash on my forehead that was now held together with a couple of stitches. I was a mess. My hair looked as though I hadn't washed it in weeks. Blood was still congealed within clumps of my hair. I needed a shower, badly. 

"Ah, you're up."
 

Turning towards the voice, I had to bite my lower lip to stop the sobs. The image of Jack with a knife in his hand flashed through my mind repeatedly. His demonic-like voice sent shivers down my spine. My mind was reeling. Every painful memory of that day crashed around my mind like a car wreck. Bringing every agonizing emotion right back to the surface. Pain, guilt, fear. Only this time, I couldn't swallow it back down.
 

"Honey, are you okay?"
  

I could see the nurse in front of me. I could see her scrubs, her worried look on her young face. But when I blinked the room got a little smaller, the walls slowly moving towards me. I could see his unkempt face, his uneven, repulsive teeth as the smell of his breath brought fresh tears to my eyes.
  

"I ... I, I ..."
  

I was stuttering, I had no idea what I was trying to get out. My mind was showcasing the horrors of what I did, over and over again. I had stabbed him. I had stabbed him in the leg, and the worst part of it all ... that I would do it all over again.
 

"Okay, sweetie. Let's get you back into bed," the nurse said in a soft voice.
 

It wasn't Nora, it was someone new. They must have had a shift change while I slept. The new nurse was a lot younger, maybe only a couple years older than me. Her blonde hair was tied up into a  bun and her blue scrubs were clean and crisp.
 

I flinched when I felt a hand touch my right shoulder. The memory of Jack's fist colliding with the very same shoulder made my insides quiver and my hands shake. Her hands sent chills through every pore in my body as she
 led me towards my bed. 

"I'm just going to call the doctor, sweetie. Okay?"
 

I didn't register my reply, or getting on the bed. Nor did I register her leaving the room. All I could see, hear and feel was Jack. His slithering tongue that had run down my neck, as it burned against my sensitive skin. I could feel it, it was as if he was standing right next to me.
 

"Neva?"
 

Tears suddenly poured from my eyes, my mind taking in the rough grit in the voice that had penetrated my dark thoughts. It's funny how the mind works. A scent, a song, a voice ... the mind remembers. Even if you try to lock them away in the deep, dark recesses of your mind. They will always come back to haunt you. Repeatedly.
 

"W … what are
 y … you doing h … here?" I stuttered. 

My mind was moving at a hundred miles a minute, and my mouth couldn't keep up.
 

Every memory, every thought, rushed through me like a train. He was here, in my room, saying my damn name. My stomach rolled and contracted as I stared into a pair of eyes. Blue eyes.

Angel's eyes. 

"Are you okay?"
 

I was stunned into silence. But it wasn't from fear, guilt or pain. I was stunned into silence with rage. How dare
 he. Why was he even here? I could feel my blood boiling, the slow burn inching from the very tips of my fingers, through my forearms and landing square onto my shoulders. 

"A...am I okay?" I panted. "Am. I. Okay?"
 

I couldn't get my brain to compute his question. He had betrayed me, handed me over to his vile creature of a father like a slab of damn meat. And didn't do a single thing about it. And now he was here, asking if I was
 
okay?
 

"Do I look okay? Take a good look! You tricked me into falling in love with you. You gained my trust. You helped me feel human again. And then, you handed me over to your father so he could beat seven shades of shit out of me, because he's under some illusion that I deserved it after what my father did. So please, by all means ... ask me that ridiculous question again."
  

Angel's eyebrows were drawn in, a confused look had taken over his bruised face. What the hell did he have to be confused about? Did he think I would want to talk to him? I couldn't even look at him, never mind talk to him!
 

"You got nothing, huh?" I spat.
  

What the hell did he expect? Some sort of welcome party?
 

"Neva, I-" he started, but I quickly cut him off with the wave of my sore and swollen hand.
 

No, I didn't want to listen to any of his shit. I didn't want to look at him. I could actually
 smell him. He smelled like oil, coffee and cigarettes, nothing like the scent that filled my lungs not so long ago. Now he smelled stale.

I stared long and hard at him, trying to piece together what could possess someone to cause so much pain. He was wearing his trademark tight, ripped jeans, and they hung low from his hips exposing a slither of skin. His black shirt was tight against his body and the leather jacket was open. His right arm was in a sling around his neck, it must be sprained. He suddenly took a step towards me, and I could feel my skin prickle as he does. I didn't want him
 anywhere near me. He betrayed me.  

"If you're going to apologize, save it. I don't want to hear it,"
 I spat. 

"Neva, please," he pleaded, taking another step towards me.
 

"GET OUT!" I screamed.

"Baby -" 

"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!" I shouted repeatedly.
 

I was boiling with rage. The intensity of my emotions had erupted and completely taken over. My body ached with every heaving breath I took. I welcomed the ache, it told me I was alive. It gave me a purpose. It made me feel, really feel.
  

Angel's eyes were wide and emotionless, as if I just kicked him straight between the eyes. It was as though he could not comprehend what I was saying. But I couldn't have made it any clearer than I
already had. He slowly closed his eyes and shook his head. Turning on his heel and standing stock still, his back was facing me and he didn't flinch as words I thought I would never hear poured from his mouth. 

"I'm sorry."
   

I closed my eyes, taking in the words that meant so much, but right now meant nothing. The rage that was coursing through my veins only moments ago was now gone. Slicing me open and leaving behind a blood bath of pain, deceit, betrayal. I squeezed my eyes shut for what felt like hours, but it was probably only minutes. When I finally pried them open, I was met with a room that was Angel free. Almost.

Sitting in the corner of the room was something I wasn’t expecting, a guitar. This time it wasn’t mine. The guitar that sat in the corner of my hospital room was Betty Black. Angel’s guitar he'd had since he was a kid. It was just sitting there, staring at me right in the face. But what caught my attention more was the note suspended between the strings with my name on it.