Toxic

Chapter Thirty-One

Red— amazing how one color can transport me back to that moment. There had been so much blood and it was all on my hands — it’s still on my hands. —Gabe H.

Gabe

The dream was back.

The dream usually came when she was feverish… Princess couldn’t remember much about her accident¸ only that there were trees. In her mind, they looked like Christmas trees, which meant we had a hell of a time during the holidays, considering she was petrified of them.

I had to agree with her.

Trees reminded me of it too.

Just like her damn Oregon Ducks sweatshirt and the scarf tied around her wheelchair.

“Gabe…” Saylor repeated my name a few times. I looked down at my hand and tried to find words, but nothing would come.

“Gabe…” She grabbed my arm and walked me out the back doors to the outside “Is she sick?”

“Pneumonia.” My voice cracked.

Saylor’s hand didn’t leave my arm. “I’m sorry, Gabe. That’s… horrible, I know—”

“You don’t know anything.” I sneered, lashing out because I needed to hurt her like I was hurting, because I was losing my mind, because I was losing the girl I used to love and it was my fault all over again.

“Don’t yell at me.” Saylor squeezed my arm and pushed me away, releasing my arm in the process. “I’m only trying to help. I know she’s important to you. She’s family? Like your sister?”

I let out a harsh laugh and threw my hands in the air. “My sister? Is that what you think?”

Eyes wide, Saylor nodded quickly.

“Wrong.” I scoffed and stalked toward her until I towered over her body. “She was my fiancée.”

Swearing, I walked back into the building and slammed the door behind me. I was going to puke.

I barely made it to the bathroom in time before all the contents of my stomach made their way into the toilet.

I puked until I was doing nothing but dry heaving, then washed my mouth out with water and made my way to Martha’s office.

She was sitting demurely at her desk, sipping coffee, and looking over paperwork.

“She’s coughing up blood, Martha.”

The coffee cup paused mid-air to her lips. “Yes, we didn’t want to worry you.”

“Worry me?” My voice raised. “Worry me?”

“Gabe, sit down.”

“No.” I swore and slammed the door shut so nobody would hear us. “If she’s sick we need to get a better doctor.”

Martha’s smile was kind. “Thanks to you we have the best money can buy. It’s not that the doctor isn’t skilled.”

Dread filled my body as the clock ticked on the wall, as if waiting for the perfect time to go off. “I’m afraid the infection is worse than before. She’s stopped responding to antibiotics.”

“But you said—”

“Gabe.” Martha sighed. “You look exhausted. Go home, get some rest. I’ll keep you updated when I know more. As of right now, the doctor is still extremely optimistic that she’ll pull through.”

“But if she’s stopped—”

“Gabe.” Martha’s voice was more stern this time. “She’s a strong girl. Go home.”

With a nod, I opened the door and stepped through then slammed it behind me, noticing the crazed looks I was receiving from staff members as my feet pounded against the tile floor.

When I reached the parking lot, Saylor was waiting by her car.

Hell, that’s just what I needed. More tears to make up for.

When I approached her, she opened the passenger side door. “Get in.”

“I brought my bike and—”

“Get in the damn car, Gabe.”

So no tears — just a really pissed off freshman. Great. Wonderful. What a terrific freaking trade-off. Made my whole day, dammit!

Grumbling, I got into the car and buckled my seatbelt. We drove in silence, and then it started to rain.

Yes, it was slowly becoming the worst day ever.

Saylor didn’t say a word to me the entire ride. And it wasn’t a short ride to campus — with traffic it took at least twenty minutes. By the time we pulled onto campus I was ready to scratch my way out of the car so I could be free from the anxiety.

Saylor passed her dorm… She passed mine… and parked in front of the music building.

She turned off the car. “Come on.”

Sighing, I followed her into the building and up the stairs, down the hall, to our private room. I walked into the room and waited for her to sit on the bench, but instead of sitting, she went behind me, pushed me toward the piano, then pulled down on my arms, forcing me to sit in front of it.

“Today we’re going to trade,” she whispered in my ear.

“Oh yeah?” I stared at the keys. “How so?”

“You said you’d make up for the second tear today, but instead, I’m going to make up for yours.”

“But I haven’t cried.”

“Just because we aren’t crying on the outside doesn’t mean we aren’t completely wrecked on the inside.” Saylor’s hands rested on my shoulders. “I figure you have more than one tear I can make up for, and even though I’m not the cause of them, I know exactly what you need to feel better.”

“What?” My voice was a hollow whisper as I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Play.” She lifted my hands on the piano. “Let it go, Gabe.”

And just like that. I played.

For two hours straight.

While Saylor sat silently in the corner and waited.

And she was right, damn but she was right, because I did have tears. I had gashes and scars that were so horrendous I sometimes felt like the monster I’m sure Princess’s parents saw me as.

When I hit the last note, a weight lifted. “How’d you know?”

“Musicians.” Saylor got up off the floor and approached me, laying her hand on my shoulder. “We share the same soul.”

Slowly, I raised my head to look at her. “When I look… I see you. Beyond the music, beyond your smile, your touch, your laugh.” My voice caught. “I see you.”

“I see you too.”