Every-fucking-where.
I’m in the middle of the hospital waiting area, but I can still see it dripping on the floor as I carried Bran in my arms. I can still see his pasty-white skin and hear the haunting sound that left his throat before he closed his eyes.
He’s been in surgery for seven hours. Seven fucking hours and the nurse has come through twice for blood. Twice.
Seven hours and I haven’t moved an inch from my position in front of the OR door. A nurse had to come out here to bandage my hand, because there was no way in fuck I was moving.
Seven hours of hearing Astrid crying. Glyn and Lan flew in from the island as soon as they heard the news and arrived a couple of hours ago.
Glyn has been hugging her mom and crying. Lan and Levi are now standing beside me after they finished pacing the corridor for the millionth time. Levi drove us to the hospital like a madman while I held Bran on my lap in the back seat, keeping pressure on his neck.
The bleeding never stopped. Not even temporarily. The more time passed, the closer I was to losing him.
I’ll never forget how his pulse diminished beneath my fingers, how I was begging and kissing his blue lips and asking, imploring, praying for a God I’ve never believed in to give him back to me.
I’ll do anything if you give him back.
If he asked for my life in return, I’d spill my guts on a platter.
I don’t want a life without him.
I can’t have a life without him.
“What did I say, Dad?” Landon’s eerily calm voice rips through the suffocating silence. He sounds collected, but I’ve never seen him agitated in my life. I’ve never seen the almighty Landon King tremble with rage like when I showed him that video.
I showed it to Astrid and Levi as soon as Bran was wheeled away for emergency surgery. They had to call in some hotshot surgeon who specializes in nerve repair.
My Bran kept that pain to himself for eight fucking years, to protect them—his fucking parents, siblings, and the whole world. I’m no fucking philanthropist. I shoved that video in their faces so they could see the pain that grew so big that he had to stab himself to end it.
I stood there watching him jam that piece of glass in his neck and felt the world tilt on its axis beneath my feet.
His body wasn’t the only thing that hit the ground. My sanity did, too, and it’s still there, floundering in the middle of his blood, choking and unable to come up for air.
Astrid fainted upon seeing that video. Levi looked like he was going to be sick, but he watched it to the very end, like me.
Landon vibrated with rage. His face was red, his fist was clenching and unclenching, and his upper lip lifted in a snarl like it is right now.
“What the fuck did I say, Dad?” he repeats in a clipped tone. “I said that you shouldn’t cater to him. I said that he’s a fucking iceberg who hides more than what he shows. I said that he needed to be fucking pushed, but no. You believed in space. You believed in treating him with kid gloves, peace, love, and fucking understanding. Look where that got us!”
“Lower your fucking voice.” Levi glares at him as Astrid and Glyn sob in unison somewhere in the background.
I don’t look at them. I can’t.
So I focus on Landon’s rage. Landon’s rage speaks to mine.
“I’m not lowering my fucking voice.” He shakes with the way he’s winding his muscles, a vein nearly popping in his neck. “That’s my twin brother. My other half. You don’t get it, Dad. He…he’s my. Other. Half. And I couldn’t be there to stop him from trying to take his own fucking life. I couldn’t be there when it got to be too much. He pushed me away and I thought he hated me. All this time, I failed to realize he hates himself.”
My injured fist tightens until I feel the burn of my wounds and keep my fingers there.
Levi clutches Landon by the shoulders. “If anyone should be blamed, it’s me. I failed him as a father. It’s not your fault, Lan. You wouldn’t have known.”
“Of course I would. I’m his twin brother. What’s the use of being labeled a genius if I couldn’t save the one person who matters?”
“None of you would’ve known.” I speak in a voice that sounds far away even to my ears. “He made it his mission to hide behind a fa?ade and pretend he was okay. If—when—he wakes up, you will not play this blaming game in front of him. It’ll only make him feel guilty and uncomfortable. He’s already had a lifetime of that, so you better get your fucking shit together when you see him.”