Quiet Chaos - Keta Kendric Page 0,22

your position don’t give a shit about, much less think about.”

“Maybe I’m soothing my guilt?”

He tossed me a playful side-eye.

“You must be cruel to be kind; thus bad begins, and worse remains behind,” he stated, quoting Shakespeare, and again adding another point to the collection he was stacking with me.

“The fact that you feel guilt is a good thing, and the most important thing. I feel it, more often than people might think, but we can’t allow people to see that side of us. Those on the outside looking in have no idea that people like us actually have feelings and often feel things with far more depth than anyone else.”

Wow! His words had me realizing that he had way more depth than I had given him credit for. We grew quiet as the straining hum, and squeaking cables of the elevator sounded.

We had no trouble getting the attention of the ward nurse after we stepped off the elevator. Once I gave her my cousin’s name, she checked my identification, gave us his room number, and pointed us in the right direction.

The tips of my fingers shoved my cousin’s cracked door open. The hissing sound of the machines Rayland was hooked up to greeted us when we eased into the room. He was out. Oxygen, a feeding tube, and various other tubes and wires ran from his hand, mouth, and arms.

His boney chest rose and fell in time with the hiss and clap of the machine’s rhythm. Arjen stared down at him momentarily before running a soothing hand up and down my back.

“Take as much time as you need. I’ll wait over there.”

I nodded, and although I wasn’t used to having someone at my side other than Desiree, I was glad he was around.

He stepped away to give us privacy, walking to the windows and observing the view of the broken streets that I had grown up in. A folded blanket and pillow sat atop the couch near the window, which must have been the spot my cousin’s girlfriend had held.

My fingers curled around Rayland’s limp hand before I cupped it. He was the walking definition of a hard-head-making-a-soft-ass. Desiree and I had done everything we could think of to help him. Multiple rehabilitation clinics, an intervention, a couple of good ass whippings from me, but it seemed his love for drugs was the strongest force in his life.

If he survived, I would pull out my last resort to attempt to help him.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Rayland? Do you hate yourself so much that using drugs is all that brings you happiness?”

The way my grip squeezed around his hand was probably too tight, but he had me angry enough to hit him, even on his deathbed.

“When you wake up, I’m beating your ass. What the fuck were you thinking?”

Although my teeth sank deep enough into my bottom lip to take off a chunk, it failed to help contain my building anger. “That’s right, you don’t think until after the damage is done. You have that in common with your brother. Why can’t you be like your sister? The girl’s been through hell in this family and is always the first to offer a friendly smile and a helping hand.”

Arjen remained silent while I spoke to my cousin, encouraging him one moment and scolding and cursing him out the next. I traced a delicate finger along his clammy cheek.

“Everything is going to be all right. I’ll have a nice surprise for you when you wake up,” I promised him.

When the nurse and doctor entered to check his vitals, I gave them the space they needed to do their jobs. The doctor left me with a troubling medical update, informing that it had taken three rounds with a defibrillator to get Rayland’s heart back. He’d had fluid in his lungs and pulmonary edema, which had put him in respiratory distress. Continuous fluids and Naloxone was his lifeblood, and only time would tell if he made a full recovery.

Arjen returned and placed a calming hand on my back before rubbing it soothingly up and down. Neither of us said a word to each other, but some type of communication was being shared anyway. His behavior with me didn’t match the rumors and details I had been able to confirm that built his reputation of pure savagery.

Our heads jerked in the direction of the door when Desiree tore through it in tears. Khane was right behind her. His presence added to

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