The Coffee Date

Chapter 19 - Meet The Easy Out

Suddenly, as if a miracle, she felt air hit her lungs.

Her eyes opened, her first breath soft and gentle, albeit slightly surprised. Her name-sake orbs scanned the room, her mind attempting to piece together where she had been. What happened. Where she was.

Thomas Sinclair. For some reason that poisoned name was stapled into her mind. Why could she see nothing but him? Nothing but the sick and twisted way he had smirked down at her while ripping a blade through her body. While feeling her blood coat his hands. Watching as the terror seeped into her eyes and her body went limp beneath him.

Ah. That was why.

Beside her, she could hear a faint breath which snagged her attention away from the nightmares that lingered beneath eyelids. That lingered behind open eyes.

Nathan was resting propped up against the couch her small hospital room held. His clothes bloodied, his eyes tired and open, his posture slumped and frazzled. One leg was propped on the couch, the one on which he rested his elbow and propped his head into his palm. His other leg rested against the floor, his spare hand draped messily over it.

How long had he been waiting here?

Hearing her shifting must have snagged his attention for as fast as a bullet his head whipped to the side and caught her lingering gaze. His body leaped out of his stressed stance and instead flung to the side of her bed.

"Hazel," He breathed in awe, leaning forwards his eyes dancing against her pale face. His eyebrows were squished together in concern, the worry hiding every feature of his delicate but pale face. His hair was frazzled and strewn about - she assumed because of how he ran his hands through his hair whenever he was nervous. The way he squished his fist against his hairline she always found charming. A pure sign of what he cared for in life.

Hazel attempted to sit up, pressing her hands into the sheets to push her body upwards, but his hand flew out and brushed against her arm, hushing her.

"Hey, hey, just relax, okay?" Quickly, he reached behind himself and snagged a chair looming nearby and swung it under him so he could remain strictly at her bedside. "Don't push yourself, your medication is still settling."

Her eyes, while remaining on him whenever he spoke, shifted and slid sloppily around the room, admiring the silky smooth curtains and the eerily white walls. The quaint mixed with the sickly. She could tell they tried their hardest to make the room as comfortable as possible, but nothing could remove the gut-wrenching aura of illness that coated the walls.

"The police are still looking for Vic, but they think they have an idea of where he is."

"Vic?" Her voice was slow and gentle. Sloppy and laggy. Nathan didn't mind waiting for her to speak. It was a quiet reminder that she was still there. She could take all the time she needed to talk. He would listen until the end of time if she needed. He owed her that.

"Yeah, Vic. Vic Gates." He paused, his eyes watching as hers blinked with misunderstanding.

"No." She whispered. Her brows furrowed with confusion, her snail-pace brain slowly connecting the dots. "No," She spoke, louder this time. Still the same innocent exhaustion as before, but now so Nathan could properly hear her. "It's Thomas."

Nathan hesitated, his eyes lingering against hers. "Thomas Sinclair?"

"It was him. He did everything." She shook her head slowly. Nathan hands danced on the edge of holding her still. "He set up Vic. We need to find Thomas."

"Are you sure?" Nathan asked, less with mistrust, more of concern. Was her mind thinking straight? He didn't know what to believe with the amount of medication she was on. She had been sleeping for hours, so much so that Nathan had to do a walk once every so often or else he would risk falling asleep or his legs would cramp. He didn't want to risk being in either of those states when she awoke. He needed to be 100% present for her. For her sake more than his own. Being in pain, being alone, being in an unfamiliar place. He didn't want to risk her being thrown through that. Not again.