desertion

77

LYDIA

The smell of the hospital made my stomach churn. I hadn't been able to eat since I got here, except for those small bites of the chicken. Every time I ate, it made the nausea worse. I didn't want anything to eat.

I just wanted to be at home.

Home, where my bed didn't have rails. Home, where the walls weren't painted that ugly shade of off-white. Home, where the air didn't reek of disinfect and death.

Here, it felt like someone died every hour. Nurses walked in and out of rooms, delivering news that would break someone's world. I had seen too many families leave this place in tears, their lives changed forever, including my own.

And I hated it.

I curled further into the bed, pressing her cheek against the cool pillow. Dad had left earlier to check on Chris, leaving me with Buck and Miles. Normally, I would've been okay with that. But today, everything felt off.

I glanced at Buck, noticing the faint bruise on his eye. It hadn't been there yesterday. Curiosity stirred in my fog of exhaustion, and I forced myself to sit up slightly.

"What happened to your eye?" I asked.

Buck and Miles exchanged a glance, the kind that screamed we don't want to talk about this. That only made me more suspicious.

Buck reached for the notepad we'd been using to communicate. He started writing, but Miles stepped forward, putting a hand on his arm to stop him.

Miles said something, his demeanor angry. Buck responded, his demeanor the opposite, calm. Whatever it was, it escalated quickly. I watched helplessly as Miles gestured wildly, his frustration clear, while Buck stood his ground.

I couldn't hear them.

I couldn't hear the argument, couldn't hear their voices, couldn't understand what was happening. It was like being locked out of a room where something important was happening.

"Stop it," I said.

Both of them froze, turning to look at me. My gaze darted between them, my frustration bubbling over. "Just tell me what happened."

Buck gave Miles a pointed look before turning back to the notepad. He scribbled quickly, then held it up for me to see.

Maddie left. I knew she was going to leave. Chimney found out and he got mad. He hit me.

I tilted my head, the words not quite making sense. Maddie left? What does that mean?

"What do you mean by leave?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Buck hesitated, his expression unreadable. Then his shoulders slumped, and he looked at me with a sadness that made my chest ache.

That was all the answer I needed.

"Did she leave permanently?" I asked. "Like... is she never coming back?"

Buck shrugged, flipping the page of the notepad. He wrote something else, then turned it toward me.

I think she'll come back, it read. But I don't know.

I sank back against the pillows, the weight of it all pressing down on me. Maddie had left. Buck didn't know if she'd come back. And here I was, stuck in a hospital bed, powerless to do anything about it.

What was it with hospitals?

It felt like every time I ended up in one, the world outside kept falling apart. People left. Secrets came out. Everything changed.

I closed my eyes, hoping for sleep, for an escape from the heaviness in my chest. But it didn't come. The room was too quiet, too still, and my thoughts were too loud.

Buck and Miles stayed, their presence a silent reassurance. But I couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped. Not just in the hospital, but in my own body.

I didn't want to feel the way anymore. I didn't want to be here.

I just wanted to go home.