Page 67 of Twisted Love

She steps closer, her gaze softening as she places a hand on my shoulder. “Honey, please. Just go home, get a change of clothes, and rest for a little while. You can come back later, but right now, you’re running yourself into the ground for no reason. You’re not helping your father by becoming sick yourself.”

I want to argue, to tell her that I need to be here for Dad, but the exhaustion is too much. Reluctantly, I nod. “Fine. I’ll go home, but only for a little while.”

“By the way, Earl brought you shoes and a change of warm clothes.”

I stare at my mother in astonishment. “He did?”

She smiles. “Yeah. That’s what husbands do for their wives.”

I take a deep breath. “Yup. I guess so.”

The cold air outside makes me shiver as I step out of the hospital and into the taxi. By the time I get home, I’m trembling, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. I force myself up the stairs and into the shower, hoping the hot water will help. Instead, it’s the final straw. My legs feel weak, and I barely make it to the bed before collapsing, my head is spinning and my chest feels so tight it feels as if I can barely breathe.

Nora’s voice pulls me from a restless haze. “You need to eat something,” she says gently, placing a tray of food on the bedside table. Her concern is evident in her voice.

I manage a few bites of soup, its warmth comforting me as it slides down my throat. But even lifting the spoon feels like an effort, and eventually, I lie back down, too drained to argue when she fusses over the duvet and turns up the thermostat of the heater. The room grows warmer, but the chill in my bones refuses to leave.

A sharp knock on the door comes later, startling me out of a half-sleep. The sound feels louder than it should, reverberating in my pounding head. I open my eyes to see the local doctor stepping in.

“Hello, Raven,” he says.

“Hello, Doctor,” I croak. “I’m actually pretty fine. Probably just need a couple of days of bed rest.”

“Well, someone looks like they are feeling poorly and it’s not me.”

His examination is brisk but thorough, and the look on his face when he’s done confirms what I already suspect.

“You’re not fine, Raven,” he says firmly. “You have pneumonia. If you don’t rest and let us treat you properly, this could get very serious.”

“I can’t,” I protest weakly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I have to go back to the hospital. My dad needs me.”

“Your mother told me to tell you that your dad is doing much better,” another voice says from the doorway. I look around to see Earl standing there, his arms crossed and his jaw tight. His presence is imposing, as always, but there’s a deep concern and anxiety in his eyes that makes me falter. “She also said he’s stable and getting the treatment he needs. The person who’s in danger right now is you, Raven.”

Anger flares despite my fatigue. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” I snap, turning my face away from him. The sharpness of my tone doesn’t mask the exhaustion behind it, and I hate how vulnerable it makes me feel.

“You’re staying here,” he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You need to let yourself heal.”

The doctor nods in agreement before turning to me. “He’s right. Pneumonia is no laughing matter, child. You must carefully take all medications I’m prescribing. He scribbles something on his pad and gives it to Earl before leaving.

Earl doesn’t move from the doorway, his eyes still fixed on me. There’s something unreadable in his expression, a mixture of frustration and worry.

I turn away from him and he crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, he just watches me with an intensity that confuses me. Then, without warning, he leans down and wraps his arms around me. The gesture is unexpected, and for a moment, I stiffen, unsure of how to respond.

The warmth of his embrace seeps into me, melting the tension in my body. The exhaustion catches up to me all at once, and I let the tears I’ve been holding back finally fall.

“I’m scared,” I whisper against his chest, my voice cracking. “What if something happens to Dad?”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” he says softly, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against my cheek. “Your dad is strong, and so are you. I’m going to fly in a specialist tomorrow, but you have to promise to take care of yourself too.”

I nod eagerly. “Yes, I will. Help him, Earl. Help him.”

“I will,” he says quietly.

We stay like that for what feels like hours, the silence broken only by the sound of my ragged breathing. His arms tighten around me, grounding me and eventually, exhaustion wins, and I drift off, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

The nightmare comes sometime during the night.

I’m back at the hospital, but everything is wrong. The walls are on fire, the flames licking up towards the ceiling. Smoke fills the air, suffocating and blinding me. I see my dad’s bed engulfed in flames, the machines around him sparking and crackling. I try to reach him, but my legs feel like they’re moving through quicksand.

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