Torture to Her Soul(23)

"And what if you can't?" She finally meets my eyes again. She's putting it all out in front of me, her heart on her sleeve, airing her grievances instead of bottling them in. "What if we both can't win?"

"I've already told you what happens then."

"What?"

"I give you the plank, Karissa."

It takes a moment for her to understand. The Plank of Carneades. If only one of us could survive, who would it be? Some people believe murder is justified when it's vital to save yourself. And while I'm not one to frown upon stealing another life, there are certain people I could never bring myself to take from this world.

Certain people like her.

Just her.

Because a world without her in it, I'm not sure is a world worth living in anyway. I've lived a life of darkness already, years where the sun didn't shine on me, and now that I've seen daylight again, I don't think I could ever turn my back to it.

She stares at me, not bothering to brush away a stray tear when it breaks free. It falls from her chin into her lap as she shakes her head, like she can't believe what I'm telling her.

She doesn't respond, doesn't press the issue, as she shifts around in the chair and lays her head against the arm of it, using the hard surface as a makeshift pillow. Silence smothers the room for a few minutes, neither of us speaking or even moving. My eyes are glued to Karissa as hers slowly drift closed.

Hours pass, each tick of the clock agonizing. I'm stiff and tired, annoyed and in pain, wanting to be anywhere but in this goddamn bed.

People leave me alone, stepping into the doorway and glancing in, but moving on without addressing me. It's late afternoon when Karissa reawakens, stretching and yawning, clearly uncomfortable sleeping in that chair.

She should be at home.

We should both be at home.

"You don't happen to know where the clothes I came here in are, do you?"

Karissa's attention shifts my way. "They were ruined."

"And you didn't bring me any extra?"

"No," she says. "Why?"

"Because I'd like to get the hell out of this place."

"You want to leave? Already?"

"I shouldn't have even come here."

"You were hurt," she says incredulously, sitting up straighter. "Like, seriously hurt. This is exactly where you need to be."

"There's nothing they can do for me," I say. "I'm not going to eat their food or take their drugs, not going to sleep in this bed with people I don't know lurking around. The only thing that can help me at this point is rest, and I'm not going to get that here."

"But—"

"Look, I'll walk out of here like this if it comes down to it," I say, motioning toward myself, "but I'd rather not have to."

She looks at me with disbelief. "Like that?"

"Yes."

"Wearing that gown?"

"Yes."

Her expression cracks with a small smile, one she quickly wards off, but she isn't fast enough. I caught it, and that smile is all I need to lessen some of the pressure in my chest.

Shaking her head, she stretches her legs out in front of her before standing up. "Let me see what I can do."

She strolls out, leaving me in the room by myself. Once alone again, I grit my teeth and force myself to a sit, shifting my body so my legs hang off the side of the bed. I lightly grasp the bandage on my side, breathing deeply, steadily, to try to ward off the pain.

I expect her to be gone for a while, and I have to piss like a son of a bitch, so I force myself up, gripping ahold of the bed as I steady myself on my feet.

My vision blurs and my body burns as I shuffle across the room toward the small, adjoining bathroom, shutting myself inside.

I struggle to relieve myself, one hand gripping the sink, the other only vaguely aiming as I piss all over the toilet seat. I wash my hands before shuffling back away, startled by the sound of the voice as soon as I step into the room.

"Whoa," Karissa says, standing just inside the doorway. "You're up."

"You're back."

"I am," she says, stepping around me. Her face flushes, that smile touching her lips again. "Here, found these."

She hands me a ball of dark blue clothing—a pair of medical scrubs. "You get these from a doctor?"

"Got them from someone," she says. "Found them in the staff locker room on the first floor."

"You stole them?"

"Borrowed them."

Shaking my head, I eye them peculiarly. They're clean and look damn near a perfect fit. Making my way over to the bed, I grip on to the frame to steady myself as I pull off the gown, letting it drop to the floor.

Karissa gasps, shielding her face. "You're going to do that right here?"

I let out a small chuckle, the laughter only fueling the pain more. "Yeah, well, it's nothing you haven't seen before."