Never Have I Ever

Chapter 19

 (Nash’s POV)

I hate hospitals. I hate doctors. I hate nurses. It’s been a week. Staring up at the white ceiling with wide eyes, I wondered if I was ever going to sleep at all. I doubted it. Here in this place, I don’t think I could. My brother was everywhere here. Pain shot through me just thinking about him. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t dream. I wouldn’t let myself. The only time I did sleep was when I passed out from fatigue or they drugged me some more with sleeping pills. The nightmares that I did have, I couldn’t remember. Thank god.

Someone knocked loudly on the door. I gritted my teeth. How many times did I need to tell these people I didn’t want any visitors? I hadn’t told them enough times, I guess, because someone was already jiggling the doorknob to open the door.

I hurled the plastic cup sitting on my bedside table towards the door as it started to open. My eyebrows raised in surprise when I saw that it was my Dad. I wanted to laugh when the cup hit him in the middle of his chest, and he set his lips in a straight line.

            “What are you doing here?” I asked him in a gruff voice. He hadn’t come the night of the accident. What makes him think I want him here a week afterwards? He narrowed his eyes at me.

            “What? You don’t want your old man here with you?” he drawled, parking his old ass right on the chair in front of my bed.

            “No,” I spat out the word, trying to keep my anger in check. He had cold eyes. I hoped that I would never turn into him. I wouldn’t be able to stand looking at myself, seeing his appearance in my own. It would make me sick.

            “Your mother is worried sick. Don’t you think you’ve put her through enough?” My eyes widened, still in disbelief that they blamed me for what happened. My own fucking parents. I turned my head so I wouldn’t have to face him anymore, and I knew it annoyed him when he slammed his fist down on the table. The table’s legs rattled a bit.

            “Then go,” I told him. He didn’t. He stayed right where he was, calm as ever. He was always calm it seemed, but I could see the rage in his eyes, the burning rage that was always there. Always pointed right towards me.

            “You’re out on your ass the next time you worry your mother like this,” he ground out, “You understand me, boy?” I could hear my heart race speed up as my own rage bubbled up inside my stomach. The heart monitor they had me hooked up to started to beep uncontrollably. I already knew a nurse would come in at any second. My father was in my face, breathing down on me in short pants. I knew he was more than pissed; just by the way his hands shook. He’d never hit me, but he’d yell until his voice was hoarse.

            “Yeah,” I said tightly. His burning gaze glared holes through me, egging me on. “Yes,” I corrected myself. “I understand.”

My throat burned for alcohol to ease the pain in my ribs. Every time I turned, it felt like fire was licking my bones. The meds they gave me weren’t strong enough. I wanted to pass out. I wanted to forget pale blue eyes and long tangled blonde hair. I’d hurt her enough times to know she was done with me for good.

I watched my father take his sweet time getting up and leaving, like he was mocking me. Mocking me for being a disappointment, for not having parents who cared. My mother couldn’t stand to look at me. I don’t think my father ever really did look at me in the first place. He saw right through me, and only really looked at my brother.

I lay on the bed, closing my eyes. My heart race was slowing down, finally. A nurse poked her head in.

            “A girl named Lissa says she’d really like to see you,” the nurse with the kind smile and warm eyes said.