guy replied. ‘And it beats doing nothing.’ I could almost hear the shrug.
Footsteps started up again. Just one set. I waited, barely breathing, tears still slipping down my cheeks. When my door finally clicked opened, I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep.
The guy walked in, messed around with something at the end of my bed and then came closer. I could feel his presence moving in on me, then a broken gasp I wasn’t expecting.
‘Oh god,’ he whispered. ‘Sabine?’
My eyes shot open.
Ethan.
I couldn’t respond. Seeing him somehow made everything more real, more painful. Tears kept streaming down, rolling around to the back of my neck.
I expected him to start speaking. Say something consoling, or nice, or even patronising. But as I watched, his expression changed from shocked to severe, as if he’d just decided something hateful about me. I became instantly defensive.
‘What time is it?’ I blurted.
When he didn’t respond, I grew more desperate. ‘Please, you have to tell me! The time?’
He blinked, looking shocked at my behaviour, but glanced at his watch.
‘Eight p.m.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Why?’
Relief washed over me, and the terror of an uncontrollable Shift subsided with a flush of fresh tears. I still had four hours.
‘Sabine, what happened? They said you were on SW?’
I sniffed. ‘What’s SW?’
He looked at me strangely. ‘Suicide watch.’
Oh.
Then, without waiting for my answer, he went back to the end of my bed and picked up a folder. He flipped through the pages, reading quickly, ignoring me. Pausing at one section before coming back over to my side.
‘It says you hurt yourself. Did you?’ His voice carried the bite of accusation.
I shook my head. ‘It’s not like that.’ ‘It says they think you may have broken your own arm.’ He looked ill at the suggestion.
I shook my head again. ‘No. No, I didn’t. I … I fell –’
He cut me off. ‘Down the subway steps.’ He pulled down my blanket and I flinched, helpless to stop him.
‘Wait. What are you doing?’ Unfortunately I knew exactly what he was doing.
He glanced at me, determination in his eyes. And anger. But why? What did it matter to him what I did? We barely knew one another. He lifted the sleeve of my hospital gown, revealing my makeshift bandages. ‘And these happened, how?’ he growled.
‘I don’t have to tell you anything,’ I said sharply.
He ignored me and started unwrapping the bandage until he got down to the plasters. He was shaking his head, not looking at me.
I tried to squirm away. ‘Don’t touch me.’
‘Trust me, I’d prefer I didn’t have to, but these need to be cleaned properly. Did you even bother to wash them, or were you hoping you’d die from an infection?’ His eyes darted from my arm to my face, daring me to argue. Carefully he began removing the plasters.
I bit the inside of my cheek and refused to show any reaction when the last plaster, which had dried to the wound, was eased off. Ethan was breathing heavily through his nose, shaking his head every few minutes. I felt like a two year old.
He disappeared and came back with a tray of ointments and fresh bandages.
‘I don’t need this from you,’ I said, after one too many headshakes.
He paused, mouth half open like he was about to say something, but then just went back to tending my arm. I don’t think I’d ever met anyone so frustratingly obnoxious.
I felt my face heat up. ‘If you just undo these straps I can do it myself.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’
Now it was my turn to shake my head. ‘You don’t know me. You don’t know the first thing about me.’
‘Let me guess. There’s more than one of these harmless little cuts on your body?’
I didn’t answer.
He gave a grim smile. ‘Thought so. I guess I know something about you then. Where are they?’
I didn’t answer again.
He grabbed a handful of my blanket. ‘I’ll pull it off if I have to.’
‘And I’ll scream bloody murder! Who the hell do you think you are?’ I snapped.
He didn’t let go of the blanket. ‘I’m the guy who has to come in here and clean you up. So when you’re done feeling sorry for yourself, if that’s possible, would you mind telling me where the rest are so I can get this done and get on with something else.’ His tone was even, but the words cut.
I considered a long list of ways I could tell him to go screw himself. But there was