Fix Me (Florida Flowers, #4) by Elodie Colt

Author:Elodie Colt [Colt, Elodie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B09S5SVRH9
Goodreads: 60385462
Published: 2022-05-18T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Skyla

“NOW WOULD YOU look at that,” Rita drawls. “Healing nicely, so far. I think we can remove the staples tomorrow.”

Her lips break into a megawatt smile as she prods the skin around my cheeks. She’s trying her hardest to infect me with her enthusiasm, but my immune system seems to block any form of praise.

Spare yourself the effort, lady. There are other patients who need your help. People who still have a purpose in their lives. Who haven’t given up.

I bite back the words as she slaps a bunch of skin-closure strips onto my cheek.

“How was the rest of your night?” she asks because clearly, loquacity lies in her genetic code. “Did you sleep any better?”

“Yes,” I reply, just to save myself another conversation about how everything will be fine and dandy once the worst weeks are over.

The nights are torturous. As soon as the sun sets and the blue sky wanes, I lose my shit. My skin starts to prickle as if a thousand crabs were crawling underneath, my lungs burn, my breaths burst out in pants. Like a werewolf sensing that a full moon is about to appear from behind the clouds, turning it into an untamable beast.

It’s the darkness. It sucks the light from my surroundings, pulling me back to a place lurking with dangers. The air liquefies, moving like a wave, the oxygen turns into salt, scorching my throat and tightening my ribs to the point I fear they’ll crack. It doesn’t matter if I close my eyes or not. As soon as night falls, I’m reliving this moment.

The moment of my death.

The monitor next to me detected my upcoming panic attack, going through the roof with fast beeps until Rita rushed in. In the end, I swallowed down my pride and asked her to switch on the lights.

That’s what you’ve become. A scared kid all over again. Afraid of the dark, haunted by monsters that don’t exist.

Rita leans closer as she fiddles with my bandages, blowing her coffee-sandwich breath over my face. I want to evade her eyes, but I can’t. Eyes narrowed underneath furrowed eyebrows, clouded with the same look everyone adapts the moment they enter this room. A look brimming with pity, unease, and bone-chilling despair. A torrent of scary-ass emotions swirling in the eyes of my parents, and my sister, and the doctors, and every nurse who ever brought me food, changed my catheter, or wiped my vomit from the floor.

And then there’s Mason. The poor-girl look flickered over his features for only a second before it transformed into something far worse.

Determination.

Tenacity.

Unshakable hope. That incessant have-faith expression, no matter how dire the circumstances, how pointless the efforts.

He’s convinced that he can save me. That he can fix me like a broken vase. Just collect the shards, glue them back together, and I’ll be as good as new. Totally delirious…

“Your parents visited when you were asleep, by the way,” Rita says, finally retreating and giving me some fucking space. “I asked them not to wake you.

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