Toxic (Ruin #2)(23)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Gabe gently leaned over and used part of her sweatshirt to wipe the wetness away. “Wearing my favorite sweatshirt, beautiful?”

“You noticed!” She beamed.

“I always notice what you wear,” he whispered, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. She coughed, earning a concerned look from Gabe. “How about I grab the guitar and bring it over and you can join the rest of the group. You hum the song and I’ll play it, sound good?”

“Like a team.” Her mouth gaped as she stared at his eyes.

“We’re always going to be a team, Princess.” Gabe gently helped close her mouth and then wheeled her over to the rest of the group taking the guitar with him.

I was cemented to the ground. Was he stalking me now? Why was he here? And how did he know the girl?

“You coming, teach?” Gabe taunted, his eyes challenging. He turned around and said over his shoulder, a little quieter. “Or do we have to teach ourselves?”

“Right.” I stumbled after them, losing a bit of confidence as I realized that if anyone should be teaching, it should be Gabe, not me.

Each group was already playing with their instruments. Thumping mixed with a few people blowing into their recorders like they were going to war would give a normal person a headache. But it was music to my ears, even the misplaced cow bells. Because every single person was smiling.

Even Gabe.

Curse him for having such a captivating smile.

I hated that I was jealous. Because I had absolutely no right to be! I didn’t even like him, but still… I wondered what it would be like to be that girl. The one who had held his smiles. Who deserved them.

Because he wasn’t smiling at me — he was smiling at her. As if she was the only girl in the world.

Chapter Sixteen

I didn’t know how much more my heart could take…each time she smiled, I lost a bit of myself because her smile wasn’t the same, her eyes were lost to me, but I’d made a promise. I was stuck in purgatory…and anything looked good from where I was standing. Even Hell. —Gabe H.

Gabe

Saylor looked nervous as hell. She clapped her hands twice. Those who could do so followed her rhythm. Others, those who were paralyzed like Princess, were told to shout with the claps.

Pretty brilliant, because that way they didn’t feel left out. And Princess had some pipes on her. I was probably going to be deaf by the time class ended.

Ten minutes.

Ten more minutes, then I’d take Princess on our Friday afternoon walk, read her a story, and kiss her forehead.

I’d say goodbye like I always did.

She’d make me promise to come back like she always did.

And I’d puke in the bathroom before I left… like I always did.

“So that’s it for today! Good job everyone!” Saylor clapped as everyone cheered and started handing their instruments in.

“Gabe.” Martha tapped him on the shoulder. “Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.” I looked at Princess. “Be right back. Be good, okay? No more stealing or talking to pirates.” I sent a smirk in Saylor’s direction. “Or sailors.”

“Ahoy Matey.”

Yeah, that was probably going to be her new favorite phrase for the next month. Thanks for that, Saylor.

I followed Martha to her office.

I knew the news was bad when she refused to make eye contact.

“What is it this time?”

Martha opened up her folder. “The good news is, we caught the lung infection in time, but she’ll most likely need to go on oxygen.”

“Shit.” I hung my head in my hands. “She’s too frail. Her body can’t handle infection after infection.” Pneumonia meant that whatever was caught in her lungs wouldn’t be able to get out. Normal people hacked until the crap left their bodies. Princess would just choke on it until it killed her. Paralysis made pneumonia even more deadly than it already was.

“Gabe…” Martha licked her lips and leaned forward. “You’re the only family that cares, really the only family she has. Maybe if you talk to her, she’ll take the oxygen without us having to sedate her.”

“Sedating her could kill her.”

“Not if she’s on oxygen.”

The only sound I could hear was the clock on the wall ticking. Seconds went by, minutes.

I hated time. I hated that I was responsible for her and that I never felt like I knew what I was doing.

“Pneumonia is treatable, Gabe. She’ll be fine.” Martha closed the folder.

“Can I have a minute?”

“Sure.” She scooted her chair away from the desk and left the office, the door clicking closed behind her.

Just me and the clock.

And more decisions.

Decisions I wasn’t in the right mind to make.

“Don’t!” Mrs. Unifelt screamed. “Don’t let her die!”

I grabbed her arms and tried to pull her away from the hospital bed as the doctor rushed to Kimmy’s side.

“Get her out of here!” He pointed at me. Mrs. Unifelt was strong, and at eighteen I still hadn’t packed on enough muscle to pry her body away from her daughter. She was fierce that way, like a mother cub protecting her young.

“You have to do what you can!” Mrs. Unifelt yelled again. “Please!” Tears streamed down her face and landed on my arms. Her tears were warm as they slid down my skin, but I was cold, shivering, dying right along with Kimmy.

I knew it was for the best. Kimmy wouldn’t want to live that way, trapped inside her own body, a vegetable. We’d never talked about it, but I couldn’t imagine her wanting to live, yet never actually being free. To never run again, never have kids, never be normal again.

“We’ll try,” the doctor finally said. “But you have to leave.”

Hours later, they let us see her.

I wasn’t prepared for her to look so normal.

She looked like my Kimmy, though her face was still bruised, her jaw locked shut.

“Talk to her,” the nurse said. “She can hear your voice.”

“Kimmy?” I whispered. “It’s Parker… I love you, Kimmy.”

Her eyelids moved and then flickered open. She looked horror-stricken, like she’d been to hell and back.

Her blood pressure skyrocketed as the heart monitor beeped.

“No.” she mouthed. “No, no!” Her head moved back and forth.

And then the seizure hit.

The next time she opened her eyes, they were empty.

The girl I loved was gone.