Chapter 223

I walk into Neil’s room with a strong determination. Neil needs to wake up. Steven believes that I’m the one who will be able to wake him. I hold onto that confidence, making it my own…

Right up until I come to Neil’s bedside and get a truly good look at him.

He looks even worse up close than he had through the window. He truly looks like a corpse lying there, the hospital bed his coffin. I feel like I’m at a viewing and should kneel down and pray.

With how pale he is, I expect him to be cold, but when I take his hand, I nearly snap my hand away with how scalding hot he is. His body must be working overdrive to combat the poisoning. Or maybe it’s the poison itself searing him from the inside out.

No matter how hot he’s burning, I take hold of his hand with both of mine, like I’m holding on for dear life.

“Neil,” I say.

The others brothers didn’t follow me in. I can feel their eyes on me through the window. It certainly adds to the pressure. Do they expect Neil to rouse straight away from my arrival? Do I?

“Neil, can you hear me?”

He makes no response. He remains still as death, with only the beep of the heart machine and the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathes to remind me that he’s alive.

I remove one of my hands from his and gently cup his cheek instead. The skin on his face is hot too. It cracks something inside of me, and I have to bite back a tear.

It’s far too early to give up.

“Neil,” I say. “Please wake up.”

I search his face for a flicker of hope. A twitch or a shiver. Anything that would tell me he’s fighting this thing inside of him.

He must be in so much pain for his body to shut him down like this. Neil has always been tough, he’s a fighter. He’s fought the silver for so long. How frustrating it must be for him now, to be trapped inside a body that was failing him.

If my words or my presence reach him at all, I can’t tell. Nothing has changed from the moment I walk in.

Of course, it wouldn’t be so easy.

Not knowing what else to do, I decide to talk.

“I’ve missed you, you know. It’s only been a couple days but it feels like an eternity since I left the Pyramid.”

I take a shaky breath. It’s easier to talk to him when he’s like this. I feel all my secrets welling up inside of my chest, bubbling inside of my throat, ready to push out of my mouth without inhibition.

“The penthouse is nice. What am I saying? It’s gorgeous. I can’t imagine I live somewhere with that kind of view. I can see all of campus. I can even see the Pyramid.” I sigh. “But it’s lonely too. Sometimes I feel like Rapunzel trapped up in her tower. It’s the silence that really gets me.”

I squeeze Neil’s hand. “I miss having people around me, even if those people are four frustrating jerks and a mischievous baby.”

I don’t know what else to say in the moment so I let my words trail away into quiet.

Then Neil’s fingers twitch against mine.

“Neil?” I ask, trying to contain my excitement. I search his face again, looking for movement, any sign he might be waking up.

I wait and I wait, and I keep waiting. Neil’s hand has gone still again. His face remains an emotionless slab.

He’s not waking up.

Eventually, I remove my hand from Neil’s for only a few seconds to grab a chair and bring it close. I sit at Neil’s bedside then, holding his hand, praying that each following moment will be the one where he wakes up.

When I glance at the window in the door, I see an empty hallway. The brothers maybe gave up on me – or at least, on a quick and easy solution. They must have gone back to the waiting room.

A few minutes later, a doctor enters. We greet each other. I recognize him as one of the vetted ones that was allowed to treat Neil in the Pyramid.

“Neil squeezed my hand,” I say excitedly. “It was just the once, only for a moment, but I’m sure I felt it.”

The doctor nods critically. “Sometimes a coma patient’s muscles will spasm. That’s normal.”

All of the air left the room – or maybe it was just the air from my lungs. At once I went from hopeful straight back down to despaired.

I stay quiet now, as the doctor checks Neil over and then switches his IV.

I refuse to leave Neil’s bedside, even to eat. Eventually, Beau brings me a sandwich from the cafeteria. He brought one for himself too. He pulls a second chair close to mine and we sit and eat together. It’s difficult to eat with one hand, but I refuse to let go of Neil’s, afraid I might miss another twitch or spasm.

“You didn’t say he was this bad last night.” I don’t want to accuse Beau of hiding things, but I can’t help but feel a slight stab of betrayal.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Beau says. “I was under the impression you wouldn’t be able to come here. If you knew the full truth, you would have broken the doors down to be here for Neil.”

He laughs a little, but it’s hollow and shaky. It quickly dies.

“Neil kept getting sicker and sicker. Then, when they were finally prepping him for surgery, he passed out and wouldn’t wake up again. Nothing the doctors did could wake him up.”

Beau’s words are loud in the quiet of the room. I place down my half-eaten sandwich, suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore.

“I’m glad you’re here, Nanny,” Beau says, voice much softer now. He doesn’t elaborate.

Steven took a big risk inviting me here, knowing it might go against Neil’s wishes and be for nothing, if I couldn’t wake him up. I feel ashamed I failed so far.

At least, I suppose, I could tell Beau about the muscle spasm. I imagine it won’t come as much of a shock. The doctor earlier made it sound common.

“I felt a twitch in Neil’s hand earlier,” I say. “Almost like he was trying to hold my hand.”

Beau, sandwich half-raised to his mouth, stills. His gaze shifts to mine. “You did?”

“Yes. The doctor said muscle spasms were common.”

“Common? Nanny, one of us has been at Neil’s bedside nearly every minute from the start, and we’ve never noticed any kind of movement like that.”

I feel a shred of hope rising in my heart, but I’m afraid of it. It I let it take root, and then something bad happens to Neil, I will never recover.

“The doctor seemed sure…”

Beau considers, then he narrows his eyes a little. “When was the doctor here?”

“A little while back. Like, twenty minutes before you came in?”

Beau glances at the clock on the wall.

“I haven’t felt any more movement since he left,” I say.

“The doctor came in, talked to you, and then left?” Beau asks. It feels like he’s probing for something. I don’t know what the big deal is.

“He changed Neil’s IV,” I say, motioning my head to where the packet of fluids was slowly dripping down.

Beau’s eyes suddenly darkened, angry and dangerous. “He what?”