The Secrets We Keep

The Forty-Ninth Chapter

Christopher

"Do you need help?" The nurse from yesterday morning asks as I stubbornly push myself up and off my hospital bed. I shake my head even though I can feel my breath come out unsteadily. It hurts putting any weight on my arms but as soon as my slippered feet hit the hospital floor, I feel fine. 

Besides my upper body, the rest of me is mostly unscathed. I have a few shallow cuts on my face, which I saw earlier when I was in the adjoining bathroom, but I've suffered worse injuries. 

Even though I told everyone that I could do this, that I could walk from my room to his, I'm aware of all the nurses and orderlies lingering closely in case they don't think I can. 

Just as I'm exiting my room, I see Detective Reyes walk up the pristine hallway. She sees me and slows down her steps until we're walking in step together. 

"You know, your father will have my head if he finds out I'm letting you do this," she says as she leads me to Damien's room. But even without her, I would've found it. His is the only one with a heavily armed and tattooed man standing outside it. 

"My father?" I ask absently, trying not to let her words get to me. 

"I've run into him while he was visiting you. He's a pretty intimidating guy. We've had to keep him away from Damien's room every time he comes here." She winces as the words come out but I'm too disturbed by this new piece of information to really grasp it. 

The thought of my father visiting me while unconscious doesn't fill me up with the warm and fuzzies. It makes sweat break out on my forehead. 

As she nods to the security guard to open the door, I turn to face her. "Can I talk to him alone?" I ask and her expression becomes wary. 

"I'd prefer if I were in the room," she says and I look down at her hip, where her gun sits holstered. 

"I'm not going to hurt him and he's not going to hurt me. I just want a civilized conversation with him without either of us having to mince our words. And in any case, you'll be right out here if there's a problem."

She pinches her nose but sighs and I can tell she's relented. "Please don't make me regret this," she says and as the door widens, I see her partner sitting on a chair in the room. She waves him out. "Come on, Lloyd. We're stuck on the other side of the door."

Detective Teffin doesn't look like he wants to leave but she gives him a look and whatever psychic message she's trying to send is obviously received because he jabs a finger in Damien's direction before walking my way. 

"Don't try anything," he says to him and as I round the doorframe and enter the room, I wonder what Damien could possibly do to me. He's lying too still and too straight on his bed and his entire body is so covered in bandages that he looks like a marshmallow. 

"The only thing you could do is spit me on," I say as the door closes behind me. But try as might to be nonchalant, it's frightening to see Damien like this. Compared to him, I got lightly toasted and I can't imagine the amount of pain he must be in right now. I go to the chair the detective just stood up from and slump down wearily. 

"Don't give me ideas," Damien says and I see his body wiggle as he tries to look at where I've sat down. "So is this the part where you beat me up for trying to kill you?" His voice is sarcastic, which is how Damien usually sounds when he's talking to me but there's an undercurrent of something else in there, a barely hidden frustration. 

"Please, like you could succeed in even trying," I scoff and I watch as his eyes slowly lose their hostility.

"You don't think I did it?" He asks and I watch him struggle to sit up on his elbows. He winces but I don't dare ask if he needs help.