1. It hurts everywhere

ROSE

Everything was fuzzy.

The last seven days— I didn’t remember any of it.

But I remembered the days before that, all the days I had spent with him, wrapped in his arms. Yeah, that was my bad luck. One moment, I was smiling like crazy; the next, I was crying like a broken record.

I knew it must be the effects of all the bottles I had drained over the past week. God bless alcohol— at least half of the time, I felt numb to the rage and the thunderstorm of sorrow. I missed him like my next meal. I wanted him like my next breath. And… I was seeing triple.

"Ha… guess I finally had enough," I hiccupped, then burst into a full-bellied laugh until tears rolled down my cheeks. "I fell in love!" I shouted into the emptiness of my apartment. "I gave him my heart, and he paid me back with heartache. But that wasn’t the only thing he gave me."

I stood up from where I was sitting on the floor in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and swayed on my feet. "He left me this," I muttered, waving my hands like a lunatic to encompass my surroundings. "And this!" I flung my arm toward my reflection in the glass, glaring at the red vermillion still smeared on my forehead, mocking me with its presence.

He wasn’t just a domineering, controlling jerk; he was a cruel, mean bastard.

Stomping across the floor, I grabbed the cushions and tore them apart, yelling all the while and crying. The tears wouldn’t stop. That damn wet liquid kept pouring from my eyes. I hurled the bottles from the table, shattering them into a million pieces. And then my gaze landed on the papers still lying on the floor, exactly where they had slipped from my bloodless fingers when I'd first read them.

My fingers trembled. I felt cold, my gut churning, threatening to expel the toxic liquid I had consumed. Slowly, I walked toward the papers.

I crouched down, ready to tear them apart, but just before my fingers touched them, darkness closed in around me, and I was out cold.

_

I woke to the sound of beeping. My head throbbed as if tiny hammers were pounding against my skull. It felt like it had been split open at some point. Worst of all, my heart ached, amplifying the pain in every fiber of my being. I groaned, my throat raw from dryness, my stomach twisting in agony.

Shouldn’t have drunk like an addict. Yeah, got it.

Peeking through my eyelids, I noticed only one bedside lamp was lit. The sterile scent of disinfectant told me exactly where I was.

Great, Rose. Well done.

But who brought me here? And how? The last thing I remembered was being in my apartment, tearing cushions apart. I cringed at the memory as the familiar emptiness started to slither through me.

Turning my head, I spotted him.

Michael.

If I thought I would find someone else, I was sorely mistaken.

Michael was slumped over the sofa, half in and half out. Without disturbing him, I tried to sit up, but just then, the door opened, and someone else walked into the room.

"Thank fucking God. You're awake!" Monica rushed to my bedside, holding a cup that smelled like coffee and for some reason the smell of it made me want to gag.

"Can I—" I swallowed, or at least tried to, before asking, "Can I have a glass of water?"

"Oh, sure…" Monica set her cup on the stool and held up a water bottle to my lips.

I gulped down the cool liquid as quickly as I could. Damn, that felt good.

She sat beside me and took the bottle from me when I finished. "How are you feeling?" she asked, her eyes scanning my face as she reached up to caress my forehead.

My eyes prickled with tears at her kindness. I gave her a wobbly smile. "Like I jumped off a rollercoaster."

She smiled back, though it was restrained, as she took my hands. "Rose, there’s something—"

"So, you finally decided to rejoin the living world." Michael’s voice echoed behind her, and we both turned to look at him.

This time, my smile was genuine as he approached. "I plan to lock you in a room full of nuns so you’ll never even think about words like beer, vodka, scotch, or bourbon— let alone drink them."

"Believe me, I already plan to stay as far away as I can from them," I replied.

But I doubted he even heard me; his eyes were locked onto Monica, and hers onto him. A silent conversation passed between the siblings that I was not privy to.

Letting them have their sibling moment, I reached for the water bottle and drank some more. When they both turned back to me, I asked, "Can I have something to eat? I’m really hungry."

"Oh, yeah, of course." Monica mumbled something under her breath that I didn’t quite catch before leaving the hospital room, presumably to get me food.

Damn, I was starving. I didn’t even remember the last time I ate.

Michael sat beside me where Monica had been moments ago. He smiled softly as he said, "You know, you scared us." He ran a hand gently over my hair, and for the first time in days, I felt comforted— having both of them here with me made me feel not so empty.

"Monica especially. She was so afraid for you, Rose. Don’t ever do that to my sister again, okay?"

My eyes welled up, and before I could stop it, a sob broke free. "I miss him, Michael. I miss him so goddamn much!" I hiccupped, all the bravado I was clinging on slipping away as I bared my bleeding heart to him. "He left… He just fucking left!"

"Shh…" He gathered me in his arms, holding me close.

I buried my face in his shirt, grateful for the warmth and support. But deep down, I wished it was him instead. I wanted the same man comforting me who had hurt me. I wanted Tyan to be here and take away my pain and replace it with his warmth.

"It’s okay. Hush..." His hand rubbed my back, trying to soothe me, but I knew nothing will ever be able to heal the wound my heart suffered.

"It hurts, Michael. It fucking hurts everywhere." I clung to him like he was the only thing keeping me together as I sobbed.

"It’ll be okay, I promise, Rose." His arms tightened around me. "Just stay strong."

We stayed like that for a long time. Until my breathing evened out and I relaxed in his arms.

"Uh-huh." A throat cleared behind us. We both turned to see the doctor standing in the doorway, looking awkwardly around the room. "Time to check the vitals."

"Yeah, sure." Michael looked at me, amusement evident in his voice, as he placed a soft kiss on my forehead before stepping aside to let the doctor do his job.

The doctor fiddled with the wires and the glucose bottle, checking my blood pressure and heartbeat. After a while, he started, “All things considered, I would highly recommend that you don’t indulge in alcohol like that. It can have a negative effect on the—”

“Oh, here she is…!” Michael exclaimed before the doctor could finish. His voice loud and full of relief, snapping my attention toward the door.

I followed his gaze and found Monica standing there— carrying a bouquet of flowers under one arm, a bunch of balloons tied to her finger, and both hands filled with large brown carry bags.

The mouthwatering smell of food hit me before anything else. Whatever she had brought, it was everything I didn’t even know I craved.

She rushed inside, and for a moment, everything else fell away. I vaguely registered Michael talking to the doctor, but my eyes remained locked on the treasure Monica was unloading.

Muffins. Chocolates. Chips. Cake.

God, I could’ve kissed her right then.

“I didn’t know what you’d like to eat,” she said, setting everything down with a helpless shrug. “So I brought all this.”

“It’s perfect. You are the best,” I whispered, already tearing into a packet of chips while holding a muffin in the other hand. I took a huge bite, letting the sugar and salt bury the ache I couldn’t name.

As I ate, I heard a phone ringing somewhere.

I froze, my breath hitching, heart slamming against my ribs. That ringtone— it was mine.

And with every beat, I begged and prayed to god. Let it be him. Please, let it be him.

____

A. Gupta