The Fighter (Book 1)

Chapter 29

I found that scars and wounds brought me out of flashbacks, and used that to my advantage. My foot did not heal. I wouldn’t let it, tearing the cuts open each morning after a sleepless night. I was numb to the pain. I was numb to everything.

Zack often asked why I wrapped my foot up each day when it should be better by now. He didn’t know I wasn’t sleeping like a normal person. I took thirty-minute naps on good days. The day Zack found my foot a bloody mess was a nap-day.

I was on the couch, and I fell asleep to the sound of Eros and Genesis playing video games on the other couch, trying to keep their voices down. I didn’t mind when they yelled. I thought it was funny.

Maybe I kicked the bandage off in my sleep, or maybe Zack got a bit too curious. Either way, he was glaring at me when I woke up. “What?”

“Get up.”

I huffed, sitting up and placing my feet on the floor. Blood seeped through the cuts on my foot and I watched it pool up on my skin.

“What’s that?” he pointed at my foot. “Why hasn’t it healed?”

I shrugged. “Do I look like a doctor?”

“Let’s go,” Zack tugged me off the couch. I yanked–tried to yank–my arm out of his grip. He pushed me into the passenger seat of his beloved car, buckling me in and climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Where are we going?”

“A doctor.”

“I don’t need a doctor.”

Zack sped out of the driveway. Sometimes his driving scared the shit out of me…And when I say sometimes, I mean every damned time I got in his car. “You need a doctor, Treble. You’re hurting yourself. Why are you hurting yourself?”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He sent me a quick glance. “Why, Treble? Just tell me why.”

I shook my head. “I want to go back.”

“I want you to be safe. We’ll go back when you see someone,” he stepped on the accelerator to make the next light before it turned red, nearly taking us into the bumper of the car in front of us.

“Not like it’ll kill me.”

“Do you want to die?” he asked quietly. “Is that what this is about, sweetheart?”

I was silent. I didn’t exactly want to die, but I wanted things to be easier if I didn’t die. “I’m not sure anymore.”

“Treble, you know you could’ve told me, right? You didn’t have to do this, sweetheart. I’ll always be there for you.”

“I know.”

He was quiet until we turned into a driveway. I frowned. This wasn’t a hospital or a doctor’s office or a counselor’s building. This was a house. “My parents have a friend–an angel–she’s a doctor for Beings. She can help.”

“I don’t need help,” I sighed. “I’m not sick.”

Zack was quiet, eyes skirting over to me before he got out of the car. I rolled my eyes and climbed out. A tall angel greeted us and he led us into the house, making small talk with Zack before a woman–the doctor, I guessed–entered the room. She embraced Zack in a quick hug before he introduced me.

The angel’s name was Laila, and she took us down a long hallway and into a room with comfy couches. “What’s up?”

“PTSD, I think,” Zack shrugged. “She hasn’t slept in days except for thirty-minute naps some days. And her foot. She cut it a few weeks ago and keeps-”