Page 126 of This Side of Beautiful

I tried to move. Something held me down. Frowning, I blinked against the dim light, my body sluggish. A dull ache sat heavy behind my eyes, pressing at my skull. I tugged again. Still restrained.

Leather straps. Both wrists.

Unease crawled over me, slow and suffocating. I turned my head, scanning the room. Pale yellow walls. No windows. No clock.

A hospital. Maybe.

I flexed my fingers. The skin at the crease of my elbow stung. A red-dotted bandage covered my vein. Blood had been drawn, but there was no IV. No tubes.

My chest tightened.

Why was I tied down?

I shifted my wrists, testing the hold of the restraints. Tight, but not painful. Not handcuffs. If I had been arrested, wouldn’t they have cuffed me?

The thought made my stomach twist. My heart picked up speed, not racing but uneasy, like it knew something I had not figured out yet.

Had I killed him?

I swallowed hard and pressed my head back into the stiff pillow. The memories began to unfurl, hazy at first, then clearer. The house. The fight. My father’s face, bloody and contorted with rage. My mother screaming. My own fists, bloody. Shaking.

I forced my breath to stay even, but my body felt weighted, like I was sinking beneath something too heavy to fight.

How did I end up here?

Had my parents called the cops? Lied? Said I attacked him unprovoked?

I closed my eyes briefly, trying to pull the pieces together, but everything was just out of reach.

The restroom door creaked.

I turned my head.

My mother stepped out, wearing sunglasses.

Her face was unreadable.

“Mama?” I squeaked out.

Fresh tears rolled down her already-stained cheeks as she rushed to my bedside.

“Why am I like this? Where am I?”

She brushed my hair back like she used to when I was a boy. “It’s almost five in the afternoon. You’ve been in the hospital since yesterday. They sedated you because you wouldn’t calm down enough to breathe when the medics arrived.”

“Why am I tied up?”

Her lips curved slightly. “Shh… it’s okay. You’re under observation.”

I glanced around the room again. “Is this the psych ward?”

“Yes. I asked for a private suite.”

“Does anyone know I’m here?” My voice came out rough, like I had swallowed glass.

The last thing I needed was headlines screaming about Landon Hayes being locked in a psych ward, especially with our second album about to drop. Even though I had quit the band, I didn’t want anything to hurt them.

A dull pounding started in my temples. The media would twist this. They would somehow blame Janae. They always did.

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