I Fell in Love with Hope(66)

“Don’t be,” C says. “Turns out I’m more of a reader, anyway.”

“Coeur,” Neo says, practically shaking in his chair. “I’ll be right out. Go.”

One thing C and I have always related to is the point of our elsewheres. Mine is traveling through inanimates. C’s is in the mind. He retires there with half his consciousness because it’s a peaceful place where reality can be what he wants it to be. It’s a world where lies turn into truths, and C can tell himself whatever lies fit a comfortable narrative.

I can see it going through his head. Those little lies.

That day he walked past a seemingly innocent scene. Neo and the boys from his team in by the lockers. The bevy of bruises he’s found on Neo’s body, the subtle ones, the aggravated ones, every single odd hue. Every occurrence he walked into his lamb’s pen to find the same shadow of a wolf against the wall and did nothing.

C closes his hand around the shoulder strap of his bag, and now, all of him is present.

“No, I think I’ll wait here,” he says, turning around and grabbing the extra chair by the bed, putting it next to the desk.

“Um, Coeur,” Neo’s dad clears his throat. “Neo and I have some things to discuss if you don’t mind–”

“I don’t mind,” C says. He mimics the same polite, flat tone Neo’s father uses. Taking a notebook out of his bag along with his phone to plug his earbuds into, he pretends to work on homework, tapping his ear. “My hearing’s faulty, anyway.”

“C, c’mon–” Hikari says, grabbing his shoulder.

“Young man–”

“Yes?”

“Listen to your friend,” Neo’s dad’s voice drops. “Before I get security involved.”

C voice drops lower. “I’m not leaving him alone with you.”

Neo’s dad looks to his son.

“What have you been saying?”

“Nothing,” Neo says, panicking. “I didn’t say anything.”

“He didn’t need to say anything,” C says, leaning back in his chair. “The second you slip up and leave the blinds open or put one of those bruises somewhere more visible, I’ll be the one calling security.”

C’s never been too bold. And as he pointed out, he isn’t an athlete anymore. His heart is on its last legs, and his skin bruises with a flick.

“Dad?” Neo is familiar with the red tints clouding his father’s vision. He swings his arm past Neo, pulling C up by his collar.

“Dad, no! Please!” Neo begs, whimpering. Sony and Hikari try to step forward, but C waves them away.

“Please don’t hurt him,” Neo cries. He grabs at the hem of his father’s coat, his fingers trembling. “Dad, take my books, take everything, just leave him alone, please–”

“Quiet!” Neo’s dad yells, the arm that isn’t holding C, raised, like an ax threatening to fall. Neo flinches hard, hiding his face.

“Touch him again,” C bites, reaching for breath. “Do it. Give me a reason.”

Neo’s dad turns around, presumably to grab Neo and show C exactly who’s in charge. Hikari and Sony let out a second’s scream when he does. Because instead of grabbing Neo, he’s met with me.

On reflex, Neo’s dad reaches over my shoulder to push me aside, but I don’t budge.

The room goes silent. An uneasiness rises in Neo’s father from his stomach to his face.

“I know it’s odd, I’m stronger than I look,” I say, holding the chair’s back behind me, bridging a barrier.

Neo’s dad looks at me the way everyone does when they get that funny feeling in their gut. That they know me. That they’ve met me before. That I somehow have more power than I seem to from afar.

I can feel his lungs. I can feel his heart racing as the stunned look on his face gradually fades back into anger.

“I understand why you do what you do,” I say. He wants control, and when it slips away, he uses violence to get it back. The pattern is common. A rule that men have turned the other cheek to for centuries. Because none of them can get their heads around the fact that, “Control doesn’t exist, sir. Only uncertainty does.” It dawns on me that he doesn’t realize how serious I’m being. That none of this is mockery, and all of it is truth. “And unless you leave right now, I’m not certain you’ll leave this room without an escort.”

I hold up the nurse call button connected to the wall. It blinks red. Neo’s dad looks out of the corner of his eye. The blinds are barely drawn, but even through the thin lines, you can see Eric at his station, noting a chart and checking his pager.

Neo’s father lets me go. He rubs his hand over his face, much like he did when he entered. He straightens his jacket, looking down at Neo, who’s staring at the ground, squeezing his wrist so hard his hand could fall dead from the joint.

“It was my mistake letting your doctors keep you here this long,” he says. “I should’ve handled your tantrums myself.” He leaves with a threat of his own, the kind that drives a final prick of fear through Neo’s chest. “I’ll be back with your mother.”

The moment the door shuts, we all exhale audibly, like a tense muscle finally released from flexion.