The Fabric of our Souls

James sets a cup of generic coffee down on the white plastic tray connected to the side of my bed. I don’t even care that it’s not a fancy blend, I just want the bitter liquid down my throat right this second.

“Careful, you’re going to burn your hand if you spill,” he grumbles. It’s eight a.m. and no one asked him to be here this early. Still, it means a lot that he’s set aside this time for me. Even if he did wake me up and throw the curtains open without warning, nearly blinding me.

He pulls out his laptop and starts clicking away on it. His boss lets him work from home most days anyway, so leaving Colorado and flying out to Montana wasn’t such a stretch for him. Sometimes I think James truly thrives on working, traveling, and being dressed in a suit, even though the only people he will see today are me and the hospital staff.

I still feel awful about it though. It obviously wasn’t supposed to end up this way. I was hoping to not be here for the after. Still, I’m sorry to my roommate, who’s refusing to talk to me now, and to my brother for having to deal with his adult younger sister.

The coffee is bland but my soul reignites a bit as I sip the hot liquid down. I watch him type for a while, missing my own laptop and wondering what I was working on the night I decided to die. Does it matter? I’m still not sure.

Obviously I won’t be going back to that life. Rehab is in the stars for me now.

My gaze shifts to the nightstand; there’s a black ring next to the lamp. Weird, that definitely wasn’t there yesterday. I set my paper cup down and grab the ring. It’s cold and matte, nothing special about it, no engravings or marks.

It reminds me of the sort of thing my mom used to leave me on my nightstand when I was a child.

She would bring me crystals from her work trips. The memories of her travel stories and the crystals consume me for a few moments before a dark and looming presence steals them away. My mother was a wrathful, cruel woman.

I was expected to be some sort of prodigy in school. Maybe that’s when I first fell sick. I ponder the thought as I run my thumb over the smooth edge of the ring.

“Did you bring this?” I ask as I hold the black ring up to James. He looks up for a brief second before shaking his head and returning his eyes to his screen.

Okay, was it the nurse from last night then? I look over at the door. It’s not like I’m forbidden to leave my room or anything. I shift off the bed and set my feet on the cold floor. The chill from the gray tiles shoots straight through my socks and into the soles of my feet, making me shiver and rub my arms.

“Where are you going?” James stops typing and frowns at me. All this frowning is going to cause him some major wrinkles in a few years.

“I’m going to go stretch my legs. Be back in twenty,” I mumble as I slip on my white hospital-issued slippers and make for the door. James grumbles but the sounds of his keyboard fill the room again, so I know I’m home free.

Time to find that nurse and maybe grab a snack from the cafeteria. I want to eat something other than goddamn pudding.

Hospitals are depressing.

Older folks walk around with the assistance of healthcare providers, and family members of patients are either waiting for bad news or receiving it. Sobs fill the third-floor lobby, and it fucking sucks. I hate walking through this wing.

I tune out the sounds and focus on finding the mystery man from last night. Some of the female nurses look familiar. They must’ve helped me in the first few days after I woke up.

Those days are mostly blurry.

“Hi, can you help me? I’m looking for, um, Nurse Hull?” I ask the receptionist sitting at the circular desk in the center of the lobby. There are three more chairs to her side for other staff members. She gives me a flat expression and looks like she could use an extra shot of expresso in her coffee.

“Hull? He’s off all week.” She gives me another once-over with disapproving eyes. My gaze finds her necklace, a pendant in the shape of a cross, sitting pretty at the base of her neck. Yeah, I suppose I’m pretty low in her view. My pale-pink hair and tattoos probably don’t help either.

“Thanks,” I say with the fakest smile I can conjure as I walk down the hall opposite mine.

He must be here somewhere. Is he even a nurse at all?

I spend the morning walking aimlessly and finding nothing more than sick people and tired workers. I can’t find Nurse Hull anywhere in this fucking place. James comes searching for me after an hour and finds me sharing fries with a nice woman in the cafeteria.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?”

I glance up and shrug. “I got hungry. Want some?” I offer him a fry and he scowls at me like the world is ending. “Jesus, just say no. Stop with the faces.” I shove a cheese-smothered fry into my mouth. He has that serious look on his face that says he means business and I’m not in the mood to argue. I thank the nice lady for the fries (I didn’t bother remembering her name) and walk back to my room with James.

I nearly jump out of my slippers when I see a ghastly doctor waiting for us. He looks decrepit, with glasses from the 1800s or something and an extremely vexed expression that exaggerates all the wrinkles on his face.

I nudge James. “See, that’s what you’re going to look like if you keep up the scowling.”

He bites back the frown that I know is pulling at his lips and furrows his brows anyway. “Wynn, this is Doctor Prestin. He’s going to evaluate you for commitment to Harlow Sanctum.”

Dr. Prestin extends his hand to me and I shake it with a strained smile. His hands are cold, much like his horrible smile. He smells like peppermint candy and not the good kind. My arm hair raises with goosebumps and my stomach curls.

“Nice to meet you.” I force the words to come out smoothly as I pull my hand back and shove it into the safety of my fluffy sweater, desperately wishing I had sanitizer to scrub over my palm.

His dull brown eyes analyze me from behind his glasses. “A delight, Miss Coldfox. do you think your brother’s suggestion is the right choice? I’m curious about your thoughts on rehabilitation.”

James looks over at me, guilt ebbing in his gaze, but it’s me who should feel horrible. I’m a fucking adult. He shouldn’t have to shoulder my bullshit the way he does.

“I do. I’m… not well. I don’t expect you to understand but I just don’t want to live. Everything sucks, I have no ambitions, nothing matters… I don’t matter.” I say the latter in a hushed tone before firming my resolve and standing straighter. “But I want to.”

“I see.” Dr. Prestin writes something down in his notebook, snapping it shut after he’s done, and assesses me once more with his dreadful gaze. “Well, from your record and my interviews with Mr. Coldfox and yourself, I do believe it’d be in your best interest to receive full-time care in our facilities. I will have the paperwork finalized and at the front desk upon your arrival tomorrow.”

My eyes widen. I’m being admitted tomorrow? I thought I’d be able to spend a little more time with James out of the hospital, but I guess it makes sense. He’d just be babysitting me the entire time and he has promotions to worry about.

Dr. Prestin takes James out into the lobby as they talk more about the amenities at the rehab and the time frame for my treatment. How are we going to pay for all of this? The doctor may be creepy, but he’s dressed in the most expensive suit I’ve ever laid my eyes on. My insurance policy lapsed after I quit my job… I don’t even want to think about money right now.

I let out a long sigh and drop my shoulders in defeat. What was the point of all of this? I am a complete waste of space. All I ever bring to others is pain. If I wasn’t so fucked up, I could’ve actually pushed myself to kick this relentless urge to stop existing.

But whatever will be, will be.

I can’t change the past. I can only hope I’ll get better.

I open my window and slump into one of the chairs at the coffee table, staring out at the sky as the sun sets across the city. The leaves on the trees are bright orange and red. Fall is heavy in the evening air, and the scent of fresh rain rides the wind.

Closing my eyes, I try to enjoy the moment for what it is. This is my first new day, my second chance, and new beginning.

I will get better. I don’t have a choice.

“Everything dies in the fall. It’s kind of nice, isn’t it?”

I gasp and sit up straight at the sound of Nurse Hull’s deep voice. He’s standing by the window, leaning on the ledge, staring back at me. His blue eyes are calm and assessing. I’m on my feet in seconds, wondering how long he’s been standing there looking at me.

“Who are you really?” I ask with a stern look.

He’s wearing a black hoodie with a dark gray skull embroidered on the left side and gray sweatpants, not nurse-like at all.

“Are you even a nurse?” I furrow my brows as worry ebbs into me. Why does he keep coming here? He changed my IV out yesterday… Fear dilutes my blood at that thought.

His blue eyes flick back to the window, uninterested. “Does it matter?”

I want to say Of course it fucking matters, but I stop and think about his question. Did he hear me speaking with Dr. Prestin?

“I guess not,” I mutter, sinking back down into the chair James has been living in for the last few days. “I’d still like to know your name at least.”

He sets his elbow on the windowsill and presses his palm to his chin as he gazes down at me. Orange rays of sunlight dapple across his cheeks and his eyes glow with cold fire.

“It’s Liam.”

Liam… He’s easy to get lost in. His black hoodie fits perfectly, showing off his lean arm muscles. My eyes drift down to his junk. I mean, come on, he’s wearing gray sweatpants—I can’t be blamed for noticing his package.

Fall is gray sweatpants season, after all.

“So, why’d you do it?” His deep voice snaps me back into focus and I find that damning grin pulling at his lips. He sounds curious and taunting, not at all sympathetic.

I set my feet on the seat cushion and pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and resting my face on my forearms.

Of course. Everyone wants to know why.

How many times do I have to keep saying the same shit to different people?

“Does it matter?” I throw it back at him and he smirks diabolically at me.

He reaches down to my wrist and I hold my breath as he pushes my sleeve up, revealing the stained bandages. He runs his thumb across the tender flesh and heat rises in my chest. Our eyes meet. The tension in the air is thick between us. His crooked smile sends shivers up my spine and a chill through my veins. He looks longingly at the dried blood and hunger flickers through him at my painful wince.

“I think next time you should wait.” He says it coldly as he continues to gently brush against my wound and I’m too stunned to do anything except stare, bewildered, at him. I’m mesmerized by everything about Liam—specifically, the darkness within him. Because who the fuck touches someone like this? And why does the sick and depraved part of me draw closer to it?

“Wait for what?” My breath hitches—my next one rides on what he’ll say next.

He kneels in front of me and pulls a little stone from his pocket, placing it in my palm. It’s smooth and ebony—onyx? “For anything. Someone, something, anything. Wait for a devil like me if you have to.”

I narrow my eyes at Liam. He’s fucking insane. “I don’t know you, I don’t think—”

He laughs and covers my mouth with his hand. His scent sweeps over me; his cologne smells earthy, woodsy. “You didn’t let me finish.” Liam pulls his hand back. “You should wait… and it doesn’t have to be for anything specific. I’m just saying—wait for the weight of the world to pass. Wait until the tremors that wrack through your skull drift into the depths again. Wait until the sun rises, and the light makes you feel a little less pointless.”

We stare at one another for a few silent moments. I’m speechless because what he said made that wall in my mind crack. I haven’t cried in years, nor do I feel the tears now, but his words sink deeper than most have in a really long time.

Almost… like he gets it.

“What if waiting doesn’t work?” I whisper.

Liam smiles easily at me. His presence is like an eerie forest. I want to stay for a while and sit quietly in his dreary gravity. “You let me know and I’ll hold you until the darkness fades.”

Why does he act like he cares about me? “Why would you offer me something like that? Why do you care if I’m alive?” I furrow my brows at him. Vulnerability tugs at my heart.

His eyes narrow and that taunting smile returns to his lips. “Because it’s so much better to watch things squirm in pain than simply die, Wynn. You’ll let me know, won’t you?” He extends his hand to me with his pinky out. I consider him for a moment before deciding to entertain whatever this is.

Almost all his fingers have some sort of black ring wrapped around them, some matte, others glossy. The matte ones look exactly like the ring I found on my nightstand last night. The back of his hand is completely tattooed with simple lines that run over his tendons as if his veins are branches.

This promise doesn’t mean anything… and I’m going to mini prison tomorrow anyway. So why not have one day of dark fairytale bliss?

“Okay, I will.” I wrap my pinky around his, gripping the stone he gave me in my other hand. “What’s with the stone?”

He gazes nostalgically at my fisted hand. I wonder if onyx means a lot to him, given that he has so many.

“It’s onyx. Rumored to banish grief. You’ll have to let me know if it works for you—I didn’t get much use out of it.”

The stone warms in my palm with the meaning he gives it. I have no clue if that’s true or not, it’s a fucking rock for all I know, but the mind is a powerful thing. The hope that it could banish grief is more than I’ve had in a while.

“Do you think… it can cure me?”

He tilts his head and his eyes darken as he murmurs, “No—”

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

James stands furiously in the doorway.

Liam flinches and a nervous grin forms on his beautiful face. He winks at me before shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket and heading toward James and the exit. “Was just leaving, man. See you later, Wynn.” He raises his hand in a wave and his ebony rings glint back at me. I try to remember every little thing about him, because I’m not sure fate will ever bring us together again.

I look back down at the stone he gave me and a smile tugs my lips. Liar—those rings are all onyx. He’s still holding onto the hope they’ll banish his grief too.