Page 197 of I’m The Worst

It’ll be over soon.

Asterile smell and the steady beep of a monitor drag me out of the dark. I blink slowly, my eyes burning as the overhead lights slice into my skull. White walls. White sheets. Machines humming beside me.

I’m in the hospital wing at the Citadel.

I turn my head, and pain ricochets through my body. Someone adjusts the blanket over me, and my eyes snap open.

Gage is standing beside the bed, his face drawn tight with exhaustion. There’s stubble shadowing his jaw, dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

“You’re awake.”

My throat feels flayed raw. I swallow against it and force out the only thing that matters.

“Jackal?”

“He’s okay. Banged up, but okay. He’s with the vet.”

My body goes slack against the mattress as tears spill sideways into my hairline. Gage drags a chair closer and drops into it, forearms braced on his knees.

“Jesus Christ, AJ. What happened? Who did this to you?”

The memories come back in flashes:

The mask.

The knife.

Jackal barking.

The weight of him.

The safeword.

My stomach lurches so violently, I turn my head toward the side of the bed, but there’s nothing in me to throw up. Just a dry, painful heave and the taste of bile. Gage is there immediately, one hand hovering uselessly near my shoulder while the other presses a cup of water into my hand.

“Easy,” he mutters. “Easy.”

My fingers shake so badly, he ends up holding the straw to my mouth while I take a few tiny sips.

“You scared the hell out of me.” He leans back in the chair, dragging a hand over his face. “I showed up at your house and found you bleeding on the kitchen floor. I thought…” His voice catches, and he swallows hard. “I thought you were dead.”

Guilt stabs through my chest. “I’m sorry.”

His head snaps up as his eyes lock onto mine. “Don’t do that. Don’t apologize. Not for this. Not to me.”

Blinking through more tears, I look away. The ceiling blurs.

“Just tell me who the fuck did it.”

“They were wearing a mask.”

“What?”

“I didn’t see their face.”

It’s not a lie.

Because the man who did this wasn’t the Wolff I thought I knew. It couldn’t have been. But the shame of it is already a living thing inside me, clawing at my ribs. I threw myself at a monster. I told him I loved him. I begged him to want me. And then he came to my house and…