My Brother Came Back, and He Destroyed Them

Chapter 3

Early the next morning, Lyra came to the hospital again. When I woke up, she'd already sent my caregiver off and was digging around in her bag for something.

I frowned. "Bring me the wheelchair. I need the bathroom."

She looked up and smiled. "Freya, I'm looking for something. Give me a minute."

Half an hour went by, then an hour, and Lyra was still pretending to dig through that bag.

I lost my patience. "I told you to bring me the wheelchair. Can't you hear me?"

She met my eyes, and there was a taunt in her grin. "What's wrong, Freya? Not so high and mighty now, huh? Need help getting to the bathroom? If you're gonna ask, at least ask nice. So rude."

I didn't answer and reached for the nurse call button.

But Lyra stepped up and grabbed my hand, leaning down close to my face. "All you've gotta say is, 'Lyra, I'm sorry. It was all my fault. I'm begging you to help me to the bathroom.' Then I'll help you."

My body hadn't healed; I didn't have the strength to pull free of her. But I spat at her anyway. "You're a murderer. Why would I apologize to you?"

She gritted her teeth, wiped her cheek on her shoulder, and sneered. "Fine. Let's see how long you can hold out, then. You just hold it till your bladder bursts."

I looked at the shut ward door. Nash would normally have been here by now.

Lyra watched me, smiling. "You know what Nash is off doing? He said I'd been working too hard taking care of you, so he went to pull some cash to pay me for the trouble. Pretty sure he took it out of that account we set up for the wedding."

My body went rigid, and I stared at her.

Right then her phone rang, and she raised an eyebrow, smug. "Looks like Nash already sent it over…"

The tears came, and I'd hit the end of what I could hold in. I couldn't stop it. A warm, wet patch spread fast across the sheet under me.

Lyra reached out and yanked the blanket back. She looked at the soaked sheet and burst out laughing. "Oh my—Freya, you actually wet yourself!"

She picked up her phone and started filming me.

I covered my face with my hands, sobbing and screaming at her, out of my mind.

I didn't even catch when Nash got there. He grabbed my hands. "Freya, it's me. Look at me!"

Lyra stood off to the side, her eyes red. "Nash, Freya wouldn't let me touch her. She'd rather wet the bed than let me help her to the bathroom…"

Nash glanced down at the sheet, his brows drawing in just slightly. "Freya, how long are you going to keep this up?"

I broke and grabbed at him, trying to explain. "No—she's the one who sent the caregiver away. I asked her to wheel me to the bathroom, and she wanted me to beg her…"

"Enough!" Nash cut me off, sharp. "Freya, since you hate Lyra so much, she won't come anymore. I'm going out to get you a change of clothes. Can you please stop making this so hard on all of us?"

Looking at that flash of real contempt and distrust in his eyes, I didn't want to defend myself anymore.