My cousin sighed loud enough that though I debated smothering him with a fluffy hospital pillow. The only reason I didn’t bother was because my right arm was full of stitches, and it hurt too much to lift it properly. Especially with the strength required to kill a cockroach like Widow.
Leaning back against my stark white hospital bed, I yawned through my lack of sleep and irritation, careful not to jostle my wounds too much, or accidentally touch my cousin and get his cooties.
“Widow.” I wasn’t in the mood to talk to people in real life, but seeing as I was hungry and could barely walk, I had no choice. Plus, he was barely people, so I guessed it was okay.
He opened his eyes enough to see my face. He was lying next to me, using my bed as though it was his own. I ought to have kicked him out, but for some reason I couldn’t do it. It wasalmost like my brain felt safer with him in reaching distance, even if I couldn’t understand why.
Well. I knew why. I just refused to think about it. It wasn’t true – it wasn’t real.
I was fine.
“Hmm?” He made some form of noise that interrupted his sighing.
“Shut the fuck up.” I begged. “You’re driving me insane and I’m hangry.”
Sure, I loved him. And yes, I owed him my life. But if the bitch didn’t learn to keep quiet, I was definitely going to plot his death. A very violent and slow death.
“How about no?” He sat up, yanking the pillow out from under my head, so I fell back.
It didn’t hurt, but it was enough for me to suck in a breath and let out an oomph.
“Dick.” I snapped at him, wishing I had the energy to fight. I would have loved to hit things – it seemed a fun way to stop some of the anger and despair that was rolling around inside my brain from overwhelming me.
“Bitch.” Widow had no venom behind his words and sighed again as he twisted to face me. “I need to talk to you. But it’s a life or death secret sort of chat. You can’t go running your big mouth everywhere. And as soon as I’ve confessed, I’m gonna go grab you a proper filthy burger and fries from that diner down the street – the one where you said you liked the milkshakes. You can have one of them too, with all the cream and shit in it that you like.”
I sat up, pushing my pillows back and ignoring his teasing, seeing as my stomach grumbled louder and my mouth drooled at the prospect of his offer.
“About what?” I asked.
His brows pulled. “Something bad. Super bad.”
I wondered what could be worse than anything that had gone on lately until I realized that there was nothing. No matter what had made Widow’s face look that way wasn’t any worse than anything I’d been through. Anything that I thought.
It wasn’t worse than watching my brother fight off two men with guns to keep his wife safe, only for her to die, anyway.
Only forhimto die, anyway.
“Okay, but let me preface this by saying I don’t actually care about your opinion. You’re just a nuisance and like, this means absolutely nothing that I’m telling you or asking for your thoughts.” Widow tried to grin, but it fell flat, just like my smiles did.
I wondered for a second how long it would take for me to smile for real. Like, sure, I had grinned like a psycho bitch when Widow had found me. But in my defence, I was tired, hurting, and starving. I was not in the right headspace, and now that I wasn’t… locked away, like rucking Rapunzel or something, I could regulate my emotions easier.
And my emotions were tired, mad and fucking depressed. Just girly things, ya’ know.
“Of course.” I bobbed my head, pretending that I wasn’t on the verge of crying from the sheer effort it was taking me to act like I was even slightly normal.
Like I didn’t hate myself. Or the world. Orliving.
Like I hadn’t spent an hour sobbing in front of the mirror as I stared at my face through the one eye that was fine, ignoring the other that had a patch over it. The patch might have been to help my eye heal, but it wasn’t helping with my looks. It only made me feel far worse than I already did.
“Okay, well, let me start at the beginning and don’t interrupt because I will get distracted.” Widow launched into an animated tale so he could confess his sins, barely stopping for air.
Sure, I liked knowing he could tell me his secrets. And yes, I knew he needed my advice and help on figuring out the best way to fix the mess he’d got himself in. But seriously? He couldn’t even pause for ten seconds to let me comprehend his words. I had just to hope my ears hadn’t given up like the rest of me had and do my best to remember each word that dripped from his tongue.
“Fuck.” I said the moment he was done. “You’re so dead.”
He ran his hand over his face. “I know. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
“I’m not dying for you.” I scoffed as my phone beeped a few times on the little rolling table and I pulled myself up so I could reach for it.
