Charade (Heven and Hell #2)(83)
Author: Cambria Hebert

He started to cry and pure rage lit through my body.

“He hit me, Sam.”

I was going to kill that SOB. As Logan talked, my limbs began to shake.

“He kept hitting me. He told me that I wasn’t doing my job. That I wasn’t submitting the way I was supposed to, that I was too strong.” His voice broke again and in a small voice he said, “I’m not strong at all.”

My vision was beginning to tunnel in and out. I was fighting for control. I was losing.

“He said he was going to break me. That I would do what he wanted from now on…”

I practically tore the door off the bathroom in the room and rushed in and yanked the faucet—the handle coming off in my hand. I looked in the mirror above the sink and glittering gold eyes looked back. Get control of yourself!

I splashed water on my face, ice-cold water, hoping to shock myself into calming down. I couldn’t change here.

Sam? Heven’s voice reached through my internal battle. What’s wrong? Why are you so upset?

It was her concern, her downright weariness, that broke the tension in my body and I sagged against the sink. She needed me to hold it together. She was breaking right now in fear for her mother. I had to be the strong one.

Sorry, sweetheart. Logan was just telling me again about finding your mom. It made me upset.

She’s so still.

But she’s alive, baby.

Yeah, yeah she is.

Be with her. I’m okay now. Come out when you’re ready.

I love you, Sam.

A long exhale released from my body and I pushed away from the sink. I love you, too. I tossed the broken handle into the sink bowl, and luckily, there was a water shut off valve beneath. I turned it to shut the water off and left the bathroom, closing the door behind me, grimacing at the way it hung loosely from its hinges. I hoped no one noticed it until we were gone.

Logan was there, tears staining his face. I sighed.

“I’m sorry. I got angry. I am angry. What he did to you, Logan. It’s sick. He’ll pay for what he did.” He would pay with his life.

Logan threw himself at me and I caught him, hugging him hard, silently vowing to let no one hurt him again.

“Are you mad at me?” Logan asked, his voice muffled against my shirt.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He pulled away then and looked at the floor. “I think I did.”

Everything inside me stilled. “What do you mean, Logan?”

“As he was hitting me, I blacked out… When I woke up, I was standing over Heven’s mom… with a glass water pitcher in my hands.”

Horror sliced through me, but I kept calm. I would not freak out. I would not. “You said that you went downstairs for some water that night.”

“There was blood on the pitcher, Sam. I beat her mother in the head with it and now she’s here, in a coma!”

“Shhhh!” I whispered and looked at the door. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but telling the entire hospital staff was not a good idea.

“I poured water on the floor to make it look like she slipped, rinsed off the pitcher and called 9-1-1.”

“No, Logan.” I shook my head. “You’re just confused.”

“No, Sam, I’m not. I can feel it. I did this. Me. There’s something wrong with me…” His voice trailed away. “There’s something inside me that’s evil.”

Denial, sharp and pungent, whipped through me. This was Logan. The little boy who loved to play football and pirates in the backyard. The little boy who trailed behind me every day after school and wanted to be just like me. This boy… this shell of a person that stood before me crying and confessing now was not my brother.

It dawned on me then.

He was right.

There was something inside him. And it wasn’t a hellhound.

It was worse.

Heven

The curtain was drawn around the bed. It was white and made of thick, stiff fabric. The lights were dim and the shades were closed over the windows. I figured it was for when she woke up, in case her eyes were sensitive. She was alone in the room, with no roommate. There was a standard hospital bathroom to the left and a blue chair next to the bed, with the curtain separating the bed and the chair. I went forward, measuring the steps I took and counting the breaths that filled my lungs.

I never wanted this. I told myself.

Over the past months, my mother and I had our differences. We disagreed a lot and our once-close relationship drifted apart. I regretted it then, but it was easier to blame it all on her and be angry.

I should have tried harder.

And now it might be too late.

I could be an orphan before the age of seventeen.

Losing a father had been horrible, unbearable even. What would it be like to lose a mother too?

My sob was a loud echo in the room and it disturbed the stillness of the space around us. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and took a deep breath. I was stronger than this. It wasn’t too late and my mother was not going to die. Even the nurse said so. I collected myself and pulled the curtain aside.

My mother looked small and pale against the white sheets. The scratchy blankets that the hospital used were draped over her still frame. Beside her, machines beeped and monitors recorded the beating of her heart. An IV was taped to the back of her hand and a large white bandage was wrapped around her head.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, stepping closer to the bed. “I’m home from Italy. It was a good trip.”

She gave no indication that she could hear me, but I kept talking. I told her about my trip and the plane ride. I told her about the places we went and the people we met. Soon, though, I fell silent, feeling awkward at the sound of my voice.

“What happened to you?” I whispered, taking her hand.

Of course she didn’t answer. I leaned over her, studying her features. The machine next to us began to scream, beeping crazily. A nurse ran in and glared at me. “You’re standing on the IV tube.”

I jumped back like I’d been burned. “I’m sorry, I—I didn’t know.”

The nurse sighed. “It’s fine.” She came into the room and pressed some buttons. The beeping stopped. “Be careful,” she warned before leaving the room again.

I sat down in the blue chair next to the bed, tucking my feet beneath me, making sure I was nowhere near the wires and tubes. I stared at Mom for a long time, wishing she would wake up.

She didn’t.

But I did begin to feel my heart race and my hands shake. I was upset, but not like this. I realized that it must be Sam. Something must be happening.