Between the Lives - By Jessica Shirvington Page 0,50
pegged as crazy. I’d been wrong to think I could make someone believe me. Ethan had written his reports, said I was convincing, but that was it. The worst thing was, there’d been a moment, I was sure, when I’d seen a small glimmer of curiosity – a suggestion that he was willing to know more. Had I just been seeing things because I wanted to? Things that hadn’t been there at all?
When Dr Levi returned, I kept my attention on the window. He asked question after question. Stupid, pointless stuff mostly. Every now and then I would answer in the hope that it would make him go away, but I offered no new information. It would only be manipulated to incriminate me further.
‘Sabine, I need to know if you have any further intentions of harming yourself. Can you tell me that?’ he asked, starting to sound fed up.
I didn’t answer. He wouldn’t believe me if I said no, and I’d be back in restraints if I told him the truth.
He sighed. ‘Then I’m going to have to keep a day nurse with you.’
I didn’t react, even though I wanted to argue.
‘Okay, Sabine. Get some rest.’ As I heard him gather his things, I rolled over.
‘Can I … Can I use a phone?’ I knew I hadn’t done anything to deserve it in his eyes, but I had to try.
At first I thought he would say no, but after a moment he gave a short nod. ‘Ethan will be here shortly. I’ll tell him you can make one call, but he will have to be present for the conversation, I’m afraid.’
I nodded, relieved to at least have this.
Dr Levi stopped by the door. ‘I can help you, Sabine, but you have to want the help. It’s a two-way street, this talking stuff.’
‘So is listening,’ I replied.
He half smiled. ‘Then I will try to listen more if you try to talk a little more, starting tomorrow.’
I turned back towards the window.
Talking was really not the answer. Talking had landed me in this mess. Talking – and the tests. But I’d needed to do the tests. And they’d worked. The physical didn’t cross over anymore. I knew that now. The rules had definitely changed.
When I’d started all of this, I hadn’t allowed myself to contemplate this moment. To actually let my mind go there – to that final step. The choice. But there were no more tests. Now I needed to make the final decision.
And do it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Roxbury, Tuesday
Ethan brought in a tray of dinner, placing it on one of those wheelie tables before taking up position in the armchair.
I struggled with the bread – almost as much as with the silence. The broth, however, was good, and soothed my raw throat.
After I’d done what I could with the meal, Ethan stood, collected the tray and left, returning a moment later, phone in hand.
He held it out to me. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to stay in the room. I’ll try not to intrude,’ he said awkwardly.
I took the phone and punched in Capri’s number as Ethan moved to the window, his back to me.
‘Yep,’ Capri answered. Her standard greeting.
‘Capri, it’s me.’
‘Sabine?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You sound awful. Where have you been?’ Her voice dropped. ‘If you were at some all-night party on Sunday and are just coming back to the world of the living now, I’m gonna be so pissed!’
My smile was grim. Capri was so wrong, but so right at the same time. ‘No. Nothing like that. I, um … I’m not well.’
‘Where are you? I went round to your place. Your dad flipped out and wouldn’t let me in. So Davis and I climbed that big-ass tree outside your room and broke in. You weren’t there, obviously.’
‘Wait, how’d you get the window open?’
‘Oh, that.’ I could almost see Capri’s face scrunching up into her guilty expression. ‘Well, Davis had a crowbar in his car and we figured it came down to a safety issue. That window’s been stuck for, like, ever. I mean, what if there was a fire and you really needed to get out of there one day. It was a public service more than anything.’
I dropped my face into my hand. ‘You don’t know how right you are,’ I mumbled, wishing Davis and his crowbar had been around when Team-Insane-Recruiters had turned up to haul me out of there.
‘What?’ Capri replied, sounding hopeful she was off the hook.
‘Nothing. And you’re right, the window doesn’t matter.’