Page 96 of Fame and Obsession
“Yeah, Pheebs?”
“You. Love.”
“Phoebe Ryan, don’t you dare fucking close your eyes! Do you—”
Silence washes over me, blanketing me in cold darkness.
* * *
The bright light hits my eyes, and I immediately close them. Why is everything so damn white?
I try to swallow and groan. My throat feels like I’ve eaten a handful of glass. Not only that, there’s muted humming sound in my ears.
Where the hell am I?
The last thing I remember is falling and then a crushing pain in my chest.
Am I dead?
It’s certainly bright enough to be heaven.
Opening my eyes wider, I focus on the room. There’s not much to it. But even in my groggy state, I know the slow beeping and wires resemble a hospital room.
I’m not in heaven. I’m in hell.
Hard breathing turns my attention to the left. A man sits beside me, his hand tightly clasped around mine and his forehead resting against my arm. Judging from the soft sounds he makes, he’s asleep.
Familiar floppy blond hair catches my attention, and I smile. “Gage?”
He shoots straight up, his bloodshot eyes searching until they settle on my face. “Oh, Pheebs, thank God!” He pulls me into a crushing hug.
“Gage! Gage, I can’t breathe. Too tight.”
He releases me with a grin, his eyes heavy with fatigue. “Sorry.” His smile quickly fades, only to be replaced with a scowl as he slaps my arm.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
“Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again, do you hear me? I’ll kill you.”
I can’t help but laugh. “That’d defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?”
“You know what I mean. I can’t believe you’d OD over some guy, Pheebs.”
As his accusation registers, I clench my fists. “I didn’t OD, Gage.”
“You had a seizure, threw up, and fainted in front of me.” His jaw tightens. “I know an OD when I see one.”
I feel myself shake. “Gage, I’m telling you, I didn’t OD.”
“The pills were on your bed, Phoebe. I saw them myself.”
“Yes, because I took two.” I hold up two fingers. “Two, Gage. I’m not suicidal!”
As our argument escalates, high-pitched beeping from multiple machines fill the room. Within seconds, a swarm of nurses barrel through the door.
An older one with graying hair barks orders, moving in between us while pointing at Gage. “You, get out.” Without missing a beat, she shoves her rough hands under my shoulder and pushes. “You, roll on your left side until I tell you to move.”
Gage disappears from my field of vision, and panic sets in. “Gage, don’t leave!”
