One Past Midnight (29 page)

My parents did most of the talking. Apparently Denise had asked them if she could visit me. I don't know why—maybe she felt bad about me landing in this place after her random
stock check of the drugstore. The thought reminded me of the current drug stash I had hidden beneath my mattress.

I sighed. Was now the moment to make my choice? Hand back the pills I'd stolen? Was today the day? Here, with my parents? That was what Ethan wanted—for me to make this choice for myself. But looking at Mom's and Dad's faces, their eagerness for everything to be okay, for it to be the way it once was, I just couldn't do it to them.

I'd let them have today and ask Ethan to help me get rid of the pills later. Also . . . I couldn't deny there was a small part of me that still wasn't a hundred percent ready to hand them over.

I took a deep breath. “It's really good to see you, Mom. I'm sorry things have been so . . .”

She waved a hand in the air, dismissing my attempts at an apology. I found it frustrating.

“Do you think I could maybe talk to Maddie on the phone in a few days? I really miss her.”

Mom and Dad looked at each other before Mom turned to me with a small nod. “That sounds like a good idea. She's been missing you.”

For the rest of the visit we talked about general stuff. When we said good-bye, they told me they'd visit again in a couple of days and couldn't wait until I was home, before more awkward hugging. I told them Denise could drop by tomorrow if she wanted.

After they left, I found myself thinking better of them than I had in a while. I was going to shift into an all-bad situation tonight—when Dex was done with me I didn't know what would happen. I hoped I would have the opportunity to set things right with my Roxbury parents.

For the rest of the day, the minutes dragged and raced all at once, my desperation to see Ethan building until it was almost unbearable. I needed to tell him about Dex, about what was happening to me. I needed to prepare
myself
for what was happening. Even though there was nothing I could do, I needed Ethan with me, holding me, telling me not to be scared. Where was he?

Night fell and Ethan still hadn't come.

I sat in my chair, paced my room, and stuck my head into the hall when there was a crazy rush of phone calls and nurses running up and down the corridors. But no Ethan.

When Dr. Levi walked into my room at 10:00 p.m., I was bordering on hysterical. It took a moment to register who he was, since he was in regular clothes instead of his usual doctor's coat.

“Sabine.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry to disturb you, but I was in the hospital this evening and thought I'd pop my head in and apologize for missing our session today . . .”

I tried to keep my tone calm. “It's okay. I figure I can just chat with Ethan tonight anyway. Is he here yet?”

Levi seemed taken aback. “Oh. Sabine, I'm . . . I'm terribly sorry . . . Ethan . . .” He cleared his throat. “Ethan won't be in tonight. Ah, would you like me to arrange someone else to visit you?”

“No! Where's Ethan?” I snapped, pacing again. “Is there something going on?”

Levi rubbed his face again, like he'd just gotten out of bed. “He's . . . Sabine, I'm sorry, but I have to get going. I'll be in to see you in the morning.”

I started panicking, shaking my head. “Wait, I can't . . . I need to speak to Ethan! Is he at work at all? Is he home? Where is he? Can I at least call him on the phone? Please. I promise he'd want to take my call.”

He shook his head. “Not tonight, Sabine.”

And he left me all alone, like he couldn't get out of there fast enough.

I was breathless.

Petrified.

The worst Shift of my entire life was ahead of me and I was alone. I hadn't anticipated, hadn't even
considered
that he wouldn't come back to me.

Because he wouldn't do that.

Where was he? Something had to be wrong.

Had they found out about us? Was he in trouble?

I contemplated using my key to get out, to search for him. But where would I go? I didn't even know where he lived.
And if I got caught and they found the key, I knew they'd blame him. I couldn't risk that.

I glanced around the room in a panic; my eyes fell on the battery-operated clock. The time!

Shit.

I sat on the bed as the minutes neared midnight.

I had chosen to live. Now I was going to die.

And the only person I wanted to be with had disappeared.

I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. I did everything in those final minutes to find my anchor. But I knew without a doubt, it was Ethan.

Deep breaths. I can do this, I told myself. If I wasn't going to be the one making this decision, I was damned if I was going to let someone else make it for me.

No matter what happened, I
was
coming back. To my life here, my family, my friends, my future.

To Ethan.

I felt my body convulse first, then the searing pain in my cheekbone from the sheer force of Dex's strike. The rest of the scene quickly came into focus. Dex on top of me, his weight heavy and clumsy, the room, the white bed, the half-open door, the empty bottle of champagne a few feet away. It wouldn't be long before I lost consciousness. If I wanted to try to stop him, it had to be now.

“Dex, please! I'm . . . sorry I hurt you!”

He slapped me with the back of his hand. “Not me that's getting hurt here, babe.”

He lifted his hand again. I used the last of my strength to push him back and set him off balance. His drunken state helped and he fell backward. I could barely see through my swollen eyes, but I tried to move, to get away from him.

It was useless.

My ribs screamed with pain and I could do little more
than roll onto my side and clutch my waist in agony. “Dex . . . please, this isn't you! You're . . . a good guy,” I said pleadingly.

But he wasn't listening—he couldn't. He had jumped to his feet and now swayed over the top of me. He landed another kick to my gut so startling it left me limp and gave him the opportunity to roll me back over so he could straddle me again.

“You're mine! No one else gets to have you!” he yelled, leaning over me. I closed my eyes, each breath more difficult than the last as my consciousness began to waver. I waited for the next hit. I hoped it would be over soon.

But the impact never came. Instead his weight was yanked off me, and, after hearing a number of curses and thumping sounds that I knew had to be punches being thrown, I opened my eyes to see Ryan gripping Dex by his collar as he reared back to deliver a no-holds-barred fist to Dex's face before throwing him hard into the wall. Dex, with blood gushing from his nose, slid awkwardly to the ground.

Ryan took one look at me and had his phone against his ear. He crouched beside me. “Sabine? Can you hear me?”

I nodded, barely.

“Hi, yeah, I need an ambulance at the Liberty Hotel, room eight sixteen . . . Yeah, my sister, she's been badly beaten . . . I don't know . . . Just hurry up! And call the cops!” He dropped the phone and grabbed my hand, probably the only part of me that wasn't crying out in pain.

“Sabine? You have to stay awake, okay?”

All I wanted to do was close my eyes, but I tried. I'd made myself a promise.

“Where are you hurt?”

I struggled to speak. “Ribs, face.”

He nodded, giving me permission to stop talking, and glanced at Dex, who was starting to roll onto all fours. Ryan didn't even hesitate, striding across the room and pulling him up by the collar. “You son of a bitch!” He punched Dex across the face. Dex was out instantly.

Ryan rushed back to my side. He was shaking. “I'm gonna kill him! Sabine, stay awake. Did . . . ? Oh Jesus, Sabine, did he . . . ?” He looked like he was about to pass out.

“No. He . . . was drunk. Angry ‘cause . . . I ended it.”

“Well, can I just say, that was a damn fine decision.”

“Ry, don't . . . hurt him . . . please. Mistake.”

He looked at me like I was crazy. I was getting used to people looking at me that way. “Sabine, this goes beyond a mistake. He could've killed you. Jesus, if I hadn't gotten here early . . .” He squeezed my hand.

It was frighteningly true. I swallowed, my body exploding with pain. “Thanks, Ry,” I whispered.

As the sound of sirens neared, he kept his eyes on me, making sure I stayed awake. Medics ran into the room, followed by the police.

Ryan quickly handed me over to the paramedics and
dragged Dex over to the police. Dex was starting to come around, and I could just make out the police trying to stop Ryan from knocking him out again.

The medics gave me something, morphine probably, that made everything go blissfully numb. They ran through the tally of suspected injuries—broken ribs, internal bleeding, and the outside chance of spinal damage—then put me in a back-and-neck brace and loaded me onto a gurney and into an ambulance to take me to the hospital.

Once the police had carted Dex off, Ryan stayed right by my side, snapping at the medics intermittently for being too rough with me, even though they weren't. In the ambulance he called Mom and Dad, told them what had happened, and suddenly kicked into wise, mature big-brother mode—reassuring them that everything would be okay, trying to calm them down before they got into their cars and raced over to the hospital. Which of course they did right away anyway.

I couldn't help but think of Dex. What he'd done to me was messed up, but I suspected it had more to do with the alcohol than anything else. I wondered if he knew it could cause this type of severe reaction and that's why he never drank. I was sure Dad would find out—he was a lawyer after all. Dex had already been arrested but I was certain that before Dad even arrived at the hospital he would ensure that Dex was charged with every offense possible.

They wheeled me into the emergency room. For the next few hours the doctors looked me over and ran tests, confirming my broken ribs and a small fracture of my cheekbone that would heal on its own. Amazingly there was no internal bleeding. And when the doctor finally leaned over me and said with a smile, “You're black and blue, but you'll live,” I was actually relieved.

My Wellesley parents did not share my parents in Roxbury's inclination to keep family matters private. I knew that by the time they arrived, half the town would know about what had happened.

Sure enough, soon after they walked in, the flowers started turning up. It was embarrassing. Mostly because I'd been found in a hotel room. It wasn't going to take anyone long to figure out a close-enough version of what had happened.

In spite of my anger and pain, I felt sorry for Dex.

“Oh, Sabine!” Mom shrieked when she saw me. She rushed to my side. Ryan, who had been with me the entire time, started to move away, but I grabbed his hand. Right now, I felt safest with him beside me. He seemed to understand and stayed where he was.

“She's okay, Mom,” he said.

Mom put her hand on his head. “Thank the Lord you were there.” She started to sob.

Dad came back in after speaking with the medical staff. “I'm sure your mom has covered the obvious, so I won't bore you with a rerun.” He cleared his throat, his eyes full of tears. “The doctor says you're doing well.”

I tried to smile. “I'm okay, Dad.”

He nodded, looking away. “The boy,
man
—he is over eighteen—has been charged with assault among other things. He will most certainly serve prison time.”

I grimaced. “Dad, I think . . . I think this had something to do with him drinking.”

He nodded. “It certainly did. That bastard should've told you he was prone to severe psychotic reactions to alcohol. He wasn't even allowed to drink alcohol. There was an incident when he was younger—he and his friends got drunk and he beat a young boy to within an inch of his life. He was only released back into his parents' custody under strict guidelines that he have an alcohol test every week until he turned eighteen. This, combined with what he's done to you . . . the case against him is straightforward.”

I tried to take it in, both the revelation about Dex's past and the fact that he'd kept it a secret the whole time we were together. But even knowing what he'd done, I still felt guilty.

“Dad, I . . . He isn't this person. He never drank. I . . . I hurt him . . .” As I said the words my stomach churned.
Had I driven Dex to this? My Roxbury father often turned to alcohol to deal with his daily disappointments. Was I the common link? And yet, even as I thought it, I knew deep down it was more. Dex had a problem.

“None of this is your fault, Sabine,” Mom said, standing up. “I won't let you blame yourself.”

“I'm not. What he did was terrible. And looking back now, I should've known. I just . . . I think he needs help instead of punishment.”