Page 57 of The Devils They Are

"What the—" I mutter, stepping toward the room, feet near stumbling over themselves.

"Wait, sweetheart," Sandra shoots out in a desperate plea. "We tried to call you."

I push the door open without stopping for her, eyes falling onto the empty bed. It's made perfectly with fresh sheets—and no sign of Mom or her belongings anywhere.

"Where is she?" I ask, fighting back the urgency and nerves. Spinning around, I find the nurse that has brought me so much comfort recently. "Sandy, what's going on? Did they move her?"

Sandra braces herself against the doorframe, the look on her face sending every single nerve in my body into a full-blown panic. "We tried to call you," she repeats softly.

Nothing happens immediately because my brain refuses to connect the dots. "My cell—I left it in his… someone's car," I fumble over my words, pausing as I shake the thoughts and get back on track. "Where is she? Where is my mom?"

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. She passed away about an hour and a half ago."

My heart clenches painfully in my chest. She's lying. She has to be. I just saw her a few hours ago. Mom wasn't doing great today, but she was sitting up and talking to me, joking about this stupid weather. The past week I finally saw the old version of her—happy and content, smiling like she wasn't destroyed four years ago. Like she hadn't wasted the last few years of her life, shattering all she worked hard for because one man decided to do irreparable harm. Besides, she was only in the hospital for monitoring… for a few tests. Wasn't she?

Oh, my fucking God.

It isn't until Sandra lets out a squeak and pain radiates up my legs that I've realized I've fallen to my knees. My hands reach out in front of me, pressing flat against the hospital floor, lungs struggling to take in oxygen as I start to get lightheaded. "She's dead?" I whisper, failing to choke back a small sob.

This can't be right… The hospital was only temporary. We had a plan. She was going to come home and get help. She was going to get better. I have pamphlets of AA meetings and detox programs on the kitchen table waiting for her.We had a plan.

We had a fucking plan. It was going to change everything.

"Let's get you into the chair," she says, grabbing my arm.

"No!" I yell, making her jump. "I need… I need to get out of this room."

Pushing myself to my feet, I bolt past her. She calls out to me, begging me to stop but I ignore her, not bothering to wait for the elevator.

I sprint down the stairwell of the emergency exit as spots start to appear in the corners of my eyes.

I can't breathe. Why can't I breathe?

People stare at me with alarm and disapproval as I rush through the main reception of the hospital, not stopping until my feet hit the asphalt outside. Rain patters the ground, coming seemingly out of nowhere again. Large droplets start to soak me as I hunch over, bracing my hands on my knees.

She can't be gone. I just saw her. We had finally reconnected—exactly what I had wished for so long. She was battling her demons, ready to face life again.

We. Had. A. Plan.

Suddenly, it's like a brief second of clarity, my mind replaying the last few minutes. Sandra's words circle back through my mind, and I clutch onto the only tidbit of information that I deem important.

"She passed away about an hour and a half ago."

I'm nearly two hours late, held up by…. I can't bring myself to admit the words. I was in such a foreign, peaceful daze in Rylan's truck, the two of us chatting easily like we aren't mortal enemies. It wassomething…an intense feelingI've never experienced before. But if the cage hadn't broken and I hadn't gotten into a heated argument with Hunter, I wouldn't have ever been in his truck. I would have gone to the beach like I planned and been here on time.

I would have been with her in her final moments.

Sobs break out against my will, my frame heaving as I fight the wave of heaviness that threatens to send me to the ground again.

Forcing myself upright, I choke back the tears as I do what I've always done best. I push all the emotion away, compartmentalizing it until I'm nothing but a numbed, soaked mess on the curb.

My feet start walking on their own accord, my body no longer feeling the cold rain as I start the trek home in the dark. Cars pass without a care in the world, and it dawns on me the sickening realization that the world keeps turning. Just like when Dad left. Even at fourteen, I understood that life can be cruel, but I forced myself to turn off the grief, pushing on like it didn't tear me apart.

But…

I did that forher. It was never for me. I just knew I needed to step up, to care for her like she had done for me all of my life. That's what love is—it's about sacrificing your needs when someone you care about has greater ones. And now, I have nothing—no one.

They still need you, Bexley… You have to push it aside. Don't give up. Don't let this drown you. You're stronger than your demons and worst nightmares.

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