Chapter 15 Not the hospital
Melissa Pov
Ethan guided me through the back exit, away from the gallery, away from the noise and lights. The cool night air hit my face, sharp and real.
“Let’s go to the hospital,” he said, his hand steady at my elbow.
“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended. “Please, not a hospital.”
He stopped, turning to look at me. “Melissa, you’re bleeding…”
“I’m fine. It’s not that bad.” I pressed my trembling hands harder against my neck, willing them to stop shaking.
His eyes searched my face. Whatever he saw there made him relent.
“Okay. My car’s around the corner. I have a first aid kit.”
His car looked expensive… it seems he had a thing for cars.
He opened the passenger door and I slid inside, my body moving on autopilot.
The interior light cast everything in harsh white. I caught my reflection in the side mirror and quickly looked away. I didn’t want to see what I looked like right now.
Ethan retrieved a white box from the trunk, then slid into the driver’s seat. He popped it open…it contained antiseptic wipes, gauze, medical tape, all neatly organized.
“This is going to sting,” he warned.
I nodded, tilting my head.
The antiseptic burned like fire against the wound. I hissed through my teeth, my fingers digging into the leather seat.
“Sorry.” His touch was careful. It was nothing like Troy’s brutal
Touch.
He worked in silence, cleaning away the blood. His jaw was tight, that muscle jumping every few seconds.
“He broke the skin,” he said quietly. “But it’s not as deep as I thought. You’ll bruise badly, but…”
He didn’t finish. Just reached for the gauze.
I watched him work quietly. We shared classes, passed each other between periods, existed in the same space without ever truly connecting or talking at all.
Until now.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Ethan.” My voice came out hoarse. “Why are you suddenly helping me? We’ve gone to school together for how long? Three years? And you’ve never said more than two words to me.”
His hands stilled against my neck.
“And how did you even find me?” I continued. “In that storage room?”
He pulled back, pressing the last piece of tape into place. For a long moment, he didn’t answer, just stared at his hands.
“I…” He looked up, meeting my eyes. “I saw you rush past me in the gallery.”
“So you followed me.”
“I started to walk away,” he admitted. “I told myself it wasn’t my business. But then I heard…” His jaw clenched. “I heard you scream. And I just ran.”
We sat in silence, the weight of what almost happened pressing down on us.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “If you hadn’t…”
“Don’t mention.” His voice was rough. “Don’t think about it, Troy is a bastard”
But I was thinking about it. I couldn't stop thinking about it.
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.
“Hey.” His hand came up, brushing it away. “You’re safe now.”
His touch lingered. His eyes dropped to my lips.
My breath caught.
He leaned closer, slowly, giving me time to understand what was happening.
Part of me wanted it… I wanted the attention of this insanely handsome lovely man.But when his lips were inches from mine, reality crashed back.
I jerked away, pressing myself against the door.
“I can’t,” I breathed. “I’m sorry, I just…I can’t.”
He froze, then slowly withdrew. “No, I’m sorry. That was completely inappropriate. You just went through something traumatic, and I…”
“It’s not just that.” My voice was barely audible. “Everything is really complicated right now.”
He nodded, though disappointment flickered across his face. “I understand.”
He didn’t. He couldn’t possibly.
“Let me take you home,” he said, starting the engine.
We drove in silence, the city lights blurring past. My mind felt stuffed with cotton, thoughts sluggish and disjointed.
“Actually,” I said as we got closer to my neighborhood, “can you drop me off at the corner?
He glanced at me, curious. “Why?”
“I just…” I scrambled for an excuse. “I don’t want to wake anyone up. The sound of a car pulling in.”
It was a weak excuse, but he didn’t push for an explaination .
He pulled over two houses down, the engine idling quietly.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “I can walk you to your door…”
“No, I’m fine. Really.” I reached for the handle. “Thank you, Ethan. For everything.”
“Melissa, wait.” He caught my hand. “If you need anything…if that guy comes back…call me. Please.”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I would, and slipped out of the car.
I waited until his taillights disappeared before walking toward the house. My heels dangled from my fingers…I’d taken them off in the car, unable to stand the pain anymore.
The house loomed ahead, dark except for one light burning upstairs.
Mom’s room was dark. They must still be at the charity event.
Inside, the silence was oppressive. I climbed the stairs slowly, each step an effort.
In my bathroom, I stared at my reflection. The gauze stood stark white against my skin. I peeled back the edge and immediately wished I hadn’t.
Troy’s bite mark. It had turned to an angry shade of purple and red , the shape of his teeth imprinted in my flesh like a brand.
I covered it back up, swallowing hard against the nausea, how did I ever love that monster? I’ll never understand it.
In my room, I opened my bedside drawer and pulled out the pill bottle my doctor had prescribed after Dad died. For anxiety and sleepless nights.
I swallowed two dry, not bothering with water.
Then I lay down on my bed, still in my dress, waiting for the pills to take effect.
They made everything fuzzy at the edges, but my mind wouldn’t stop.
Troy’s face. His hands. His teeth.
Victor Kane appearing at exactly the right moment.
Gavin.
Always Gavin.
I sat up, the room tilting slightly. The pills were starting to work, making everything feel distant and dreamlike.
Through the wall, I heard nothing. Gavin’s office was silent.
But I needed to know. Needed to understand if he’d sent Victor Kane tonight. If he’d somehow orchestrated everything.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I was on my feet, padding into the hallway.
Mom’s room was still dark.
Gavin’s office was closed, and there was no light underneath.
My heart pounded as I approached. I pressed my ear against the door.
Silence.
Slowly, I turned the handle.
The office was empty.
Moonlight filtered through the windows, casting everything in silver and shadow. His desk was neatly organized. Papers stacked precisely. His laptop closed.
I shouldn’t be here. I should leave.
But my feet carried me forward anyway.
I moved around the desk, trailing my fingers along the smooth wood. Everything was so controlled, so carefully arranged. Just like him.
My eyes landed on the built-in cupboard along the far wall. Dark wood, brass handles gleaming in the moonlight.
I walked toward it, drawn by something I couldn’t name.
The handle was cool under my palm. I pulled.
Locked.
Of course it was locked.
I was about to turn away when I noticed it…a small key hanging on a hook just inside the desk drawer, partially hidden beneath a stack of business cards.
My hands were shaking again as I took it. This was wrong. This was such a violation of privacy.
But I couldn’t stop.
The key slid into the lock with a soft click.
The cupboard door swung open.
And my mouth fell open in shock.