Chapter 52

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I chickened out.

I was planning on going to see Caley that night, but I couldn't do it. Once I got to her door, I looked inside and saw Gerrard sitting next to her. She was lying on her side, facing him, her silvery blonde hair splayed out on her pillow. He was leaning forward, with his face on the bed, playing with her hair. She was just staring at him, as if she wasn't actually seeing him. He was talking and smiling, but she was expressionless. And when I saw the two of them there together, it made me angry.

I admit, I was jealous of Gerrard. I had barely spoken to him, but I knew I hated him. But a part of me knew that the reason I disliked him so much was because he was always with Caley. He was, as Abbey said, doing the things that I should have been doing for Caley. And as much as I tried to project that jealousy into hatred for what Caley had done, I knew deep down that it was just me trying to make myself feel better. So instead of going inside and speaking to her, I sat in the dark hallway outside her door with my head in my hands, enhancing my hearing so that I could hear what Gerrard was saying and making myself feel worse and worse.


This went on for the next few nights. Everytime I gathered up the courage to go and speak to her, I backed down once I got to the door and ended up just sitting in the hallway, listening to her speak to Gerrard or scream in pain.

Her condition was definitely worsening. I could tell that much by just looking at her every night from the door. She was pale and thin. Her cheekbones stood out sharply on her face and she had dark circles under her eyes. She was skin and bones, her hair falling limply around her face. Her eyes were dark and tormented. Even from my distance, I could tell she had numerous scars on her arms and legs from where she fought against the iron shackles that kept her from hurting herself severely. Everytime I looked at her, I felt something twist inside of me. This was not the Caley I had fallen in love with. This Caley was broken and tortured, fighting for her life even though she had no hope.

On the nights that Gerrard wasn't with her, she'd sit up in her bed and look out the little window that was mounted high up on the wall. She would just stare out the window without blinking and I wondered what she was thinking. Once I tried to read her mind, but her mind fortress was up. It was amazing that even in her state of weakness, her mind was that powerful. I had no idea what she was thinking about. She never cried. Not once. Her face held the same blank expression all the time, but it was in her eyes that I could see the pain and sadness. Even from the distance, I could tell that she was suffering. I didn't need to hear her screams to understand that.

Every night, I sat outside her door like a coward, hating myself more and more for not being able to go inside and just talk to her. Why was it so difficult for me? I knew I was still angry, but at least now I was willing to see her. But why couldn't I go inside?

I knew the answer, but I hated myself for it. I couldn't go inside and actually face her because I was afraid that she wouldn't say anything to me. I was afraid that she hated me because I had taken so long to actually come see her, that I had let her suffer for so long and let her go through so much torture.


One night, I had gotten to her door just as Gerrard was leaving her room. He looked distraught, upset, and when he saw me, his expression turned into anger.

"You son of a bitch," he said through clenched teeth, closing the door behind him and muttering a spell that prevented sounds from entering the patient rooms. He moved so quickly, I barely had time to register what happened. Before I knew it, I was pinned up against the wall, with Gerrard's angry face right next to mine.

"You son of a fucking bitch," he shouted again, slamming me against the wall. I just stared at him.

"You fucking cowardly piece of shit. Do you realize what you're doing to her? Do you realize what YOU'VE DONE TO HER?!" he yelled, throwing me to the ground. He started pacing back and forth, clawing at his hair like a mad man.

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