I smile at him. "The only thing I need is right next to me."
***
I wake up and Cutter is gone. Glancing around the room, I catch sight of him in the chair by the bed.
Why did he move?
The door opens and Twisted walks in.
"Heard that you were up." He walks over to the bed and Cutter opens his eyes, sitting up in his seat. "How you feeling?" Twisted asks.
"Like crap, but it'll pass." I offer him a smile. I feel like I need to keep my spirits up with everyone else being so upset. The last thing they need is me bringing them down.
He turns to Cutter. "We need to finish up in the garage."
My head snaps up. That's where Lucy said Dylan was.
Cutter stands up and comes over to kiss my forehead. "I'll grab one of the girls to come hang with you for a little." He walks over to the door but when I call out to him, he turns.
"I want to see him."
They look shocked at my admission.
"No." Cutter's voice is firm.
"Please, Cutter. I need to do this."
The two of them look at me but don't make any move to leave. With a shake of my head I flatten my hands against the bed and work on pushing myself up, groaning with each inch.
Cutter comes toward me but I hold up a hand. "No, let me do this."
Inch by inch I move, pushing through the pain and pooling all of the strength I have. He needs to know that I can do this; that I won't break.
The feeling of elation once I'm sitting up quickly gives way to regret. My ribs scream and my stitches feel like they are ripping open.
But I won't let that stop me.
"I need the last time I see him to be a time when I show him that he can't beat me. I don't want to live with him thinking he won-that he beat me and destroyed me like he wanted to. I need this to finally move on."
Cutter mumbles, turning away from my gaze.
I look at Twisted, who hasn't moved a muscle. His eyes rake over me and I'm hot with the sudden impulse to hide. Instead, I lift my chin and meet his gaze, acting every inch the old lady I am.
"I think it's good."
My composure slips and my mouth drops.
"If you remember, Lucy needed that same closure. Not like he's in any shape to do anything. We'll all be there." Twisted shrugs his shoulders and looks over at Cutter. "Thing is, if she goes down there, you gotta let her handle it. You can't jump in when he comes back with some asshole remark, because you know he will. This is her chance to take back what the bastard took from her, and you have to be man enough to let her do that on her own." He claps Cutter on the back and shoots me a wink before walking out the door.
Cutter stands in the middle of the room for what seems like forever before he turns to me. "I get why you say you need this. Doesn't mean I like it."
I understand where he's coming from. If it were him in the same situation, I probably wouldn't be happy about it, either. "I don't like it either, but sometimes the most important times in our life aren't the happiest. Someone once told me that I had a strength inside of me and that I could do anything. Dylan made me feel like nothing. I want to show him he was wrong and that no matter how he tried, he didn't break me."
Cutter smiles at me for the first time since I woke up. "I could learn a thing from you."
"Just one?" I cock an eyebrow.
"Watch it." He laughs as he bends down. "I'll carry you down. Doc is bringing you crutches, but they aren't here yet. You need to let me know if I'm hurting you."
I nod my head, knowing that he will, but I won't let him know it. His arms slide under me and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. It would be pretty impossible for it not to hurt-my body feels like it's been run over by an eighteen-wheeler. I wrap my arms around his neck and lay my head against his chest. As he takes me down the stairs and through the main room, all eyes are focused on me. And as much as I don't want to hide away, I can't bring myself to look at them right now.
Cutter walks toward Twisted, who's holding a door open. The minute we pass the doorway, a stench like I've never smelled hits me. I start to cough because the air feels so thick. Cutter nods to where Dylan hangs. And I say hangs because he's suspended from the ceiling, his arms holding his weight. A dirty sheet cloaks him, a hole cut away for his head to poke through. "They covered him, for your own good. I don't like you being here, so try and hurry this up."
I take in the floor beneath Dylan, stained with blood and other weird marks, the origin of which I don't want to consider. A chair has been placed in front of him, far enough away that he couldn't reach even if he wanted to. Cutter sits me down and I take a minute to regain my composure before looking up at Dylan.