2: 2
Twenty minutes later, they came back.
Keeping just the right distance between them, as if nothing had happened at all.
But I still saw it at a glance, the kiss mark half-hidden along Alice's collar.
Charles had a habit. No matter how caught up he got, he never left marks on the body.
Back when I used to cling to him and beg, he stopped me every single time.
And now he'd broken his own rule for someone else.
Even though I knew there was nothing they could have done in that little stretch of time, my heart still wouldn't stop aching.
All I could do was pull my eyes away in a panic and force myself not to think about it.
"Lindy, you must have been waiting forever."
"Allie bought you chicken soup. Drink it while it's hot."
Charles opened the soup and moved to feed it to me out of habit.
Then something seemed to occur to him, and his hand stopped short.
Of course I knew. He was keeping his distance to avoid looking bad.
And Alice, just as she had countless times before, took it from him without a word passing between them.
"Charles, move aside, you're all thumbs, you don't have the first idea how to take care of a sick person."
"Lindy, you really have to have a talk with him about this later."
Charles let out a soft snort.
"Says who. I'm great at taking care of people. One of these days you'll find out."
The two of them started bickering again, back and forth, neither one giving an inch.
A scene I once thought completely ordinary looked now like flirting dressed up as banter.
I lowered my head, mortified, my eyes falling on that bowl of chicken soup with cilantro floating on top.
I don't eat cilantro.
Charles knew that. Alice knew it too.
They just didn't have the attention to spare.
I went to set the soup off to the side, and my hand bumped into Alice's by accident.
The scalding soup spilled across the back of her hand, leaving it red and swollen.
I'd barely started to check how badly she was hurt when Charles shoved me away.
"Linda Sullivan, if you don't want to drink it, fine, but don't throw some spoiled little tantrum!"
"Are you okay? Does it hurt?"
I froze where I was, at a loss.
It was the first time he'd ever called me by my full name.
I dropped to the floor in a graceless heap, wanting to explain and not knowing what to say.
All I could do was watch Charles carefully dab medicine on Alice's hand, while the sourness in my chest bubbled up again.
That tender, pained way of his used to be for me.
But now it belonged to someone else.
The pain in my head swelled beyond anything I could hold back, and I couldn't stop myself from coughing up a mouthful of blood.
It sprayed bright red across the front of my clothes, glaring against the fabric.
Alice threw herself toward me, but before her hand could reach me, Charles pulled her back up.
"Linda Sullivan, aren't you tired of the tomato-juice act yet?"
As he said it, the love meter above his head dropped to 25.
I gave a bleak little smile, the taste of blood in my mouth growing heavier and heavier.
Somewhere along the way, whenever my head hurt too much, I'd started coughing up blood.
I didn't dare tell Charles, and I didn't dare see a doctor.
I was afraid that if I died one day, it would break his heart.
Later I learned to fake coughing up blood, copying tricks from online.
At first, Justin Fox would hold me and cry until he was shaking, begging me hoarsely never to leave him.
And now, all that was left was cold indifference.
I had succeeded. I really had.
But the place where my heart was still hurt so much.
I swallowed the froth of blood in my mouth as hard as I could, but no matter what I did, there was always more.
Seeing that I wouldn't speak, Charles shook his head in disappointment, gathered Alice up, and strode out.
It wasn't until the door clicked shut that I realized my face was already soaked with tears.
I wiped at them clumsily, reminding myself over and over that I wasn't allowed to cry.
I was going to die anyway. What did any of it matter?
