Even When I'm Gone (Stay With Me series Book 2) Read online

  After the second week without my medication, I had completely lost control as my emotions raided me from all directions.

  The only thing I could think about was her.

  All I asked for was her.

  All I wanted and needed was her.

  Regardless of whether my eyes were opened or closed, she invaded every piece of me like a raging storm. To get me under control, they had reached out to Dolor and retrieved my medical paperwork before putting me right back on the agony-reducing pills, and finally, they had me right where they wanted me.

  Oscar had gotten what he deserved. And me? I had been cleared from all sex crimes. I’d never been associated with the prostitution ring, only a product of a prostitute.

  Unfortunately, they couldn’t clear me from the original crime I’d been placed at Dolor for originally. Even after explaining to the detectives I was innocent for the crime against Brad, the punter that had been on life support by the hands of my brother when I was seventeen, they still didn’t have enough evidence confirming it was Oscar.

  Oscar had a false alibi. I hadn’t.

  Brad had passed away two months ago.

  Now, I was charged with homicide due to mental illness instead of unlawful injury.

  Dolor was my only chance at freedom.

  Back to square fucking one.

  With one more year left, they sentenced me back to Dolor to finish what I’d started since I wasn’t involved with any other crime.

  I’d made a friend from my seven months in jail. His name was Travis.

  We’d exchanged our life stories like they were lived by other people. Travis was a good mate, only got caught up in the wrong crowd. Travis’s story was much like every other desperate bloke needing quick cash. He was the look-out guy during a robbery, and had a clean record before. The bloke grew up much like myself with an absentee father and shitty mum. There was hope for Travis, who mentioned he had a girl waiting for him. He had asked me if I had a girl. I’d told him I didn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to talk about her, let alone say her name out loud. Though, she always lingered in the back of my mind.

  I remembered the way I felt for her, and glad through these last seven months the medication had dulled the ache I knew I would have without it. Detoxing from the pills caused my Emotional Intensity Disorder to heighten those emotions and drove me into utter insanity.

  During transport back to Dolor, I was three days free from medication, teetering back and forth on whether or not it was worth feeling again—back and forth on whether or not I’d ask Dr. Butala or Conway to keep me off of them.

  Was it worth fighting through the pain?

  It didn’t feel like I had much of a choice.

  My feelings for her slowly raised from the ashes over the last six hours.

  Every hour more painful than the last.

  “We’re here,” the security guard announced as we pulled off the main road and onto a single path leading up to the gates of Dolor. The pavement beneath the tires turned to rock, and I glanced out the window to see Dolor under a grey sky.

  My body reacted to the closing distance of hers and nerves set in. I drew in a long and uneven breath. Three days without the pills, and I needed to take them every twelve hours. Already, I felt myself losing control and thankful for these restraints. My hands shook, and I closed them into fists to ease the tremors.

  The van pulled up to the front of the campus before it came to a stop. The security guard zip-tied my wrists together before unlocking the restraints from my wrists and ankles, and escorted me out of the van and through the double doors.

  “Oliver Masters,” Lynch greeted at the security checkpoint, “I’d like to say welcome back, but that all depends on you.” It had been seven months since I’d seen Lynch, and it looked as if the chap aged twenty years. His tailored suit didn’t mask the tiredness in his brown eyes or the apparent stress causing his hairline to recede at a much faster pace.

  “I’m not here to cause trouble. I want to make it through the year smoothly just as much as you,” I said, meaning every word. I refused to join my brother in prison.

  Lynch nodded and guided me through the scanner without beeps. As I walked through the halls to the office, I kept my head down and feet in front of me, unable to bring myself to see the library doors—the place her and I ran off to each Saturday morning to escape.

  Still, her laugh echoed through my head, reminding me.

  Her brown hair whipped in my memory as I chased her.

  Her heart-stopping smile projected in my thoughts against my will.

  “This way,” Lynch said, rescuing me from the moments of my past.

  The dean’s office hadn’t changed.

  Lynch held up a finger, picked up the phone, and I took a seat in the chair across from him on the opposite side of his desk. I wiped the sweat from my forehead across the sleeve of my shirt, shivering in a cold sweat.

  “Dr. Butala, yes … I have Oliver Masters in now … mmhmm…” Lynch nodded and hung up without a goodbye, “Your psychiatrist is on his way down now, so we’ll wait.” Lynch’s brown eyes met mine briefly before turning away. The color of his eyes matched a bottle of Jack, the same as hers, and my heart twisted from another reminder of her.

  Dr. Butala and I never agreed on much, but his intentions were good and honest.

  He believed in a chemical imbalance in the brain, and she—still not thinking or saying her name—thought it wasn’t a disorder, but a blessing to feel wholeheartedly. She loved me the way I was, but she had only ever seen one side of me. I never allowed her to see the other side of my disorder—the evil side.

  Butala knocked before Lynch welcomed him in.

  “Masters, glad to have you back,” he said with a hand on my shoulder. He was a small gentleman from India with a slight accent.

  I dropped my head in a single nod. “Glad to be back.”

  Butala took a seat beside me and rested my file over his lap.

  “First and foremost, I want to apologize again for putting you in an improper position with Oscar,” Lynch said, his tone soft and sincere. “If I’d known, I would have never allowed it. Can we put that in the past and start over?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Relief flashed in his eyes, but only for a moment. “Very good. Now that is out of the way, today marks the new school year, and we have already had a few mishaps over the last week. Though you didn’t advise me about your brother, can I count on you now to come to me if anything seems out of the ordinary?” Lynch asked, brow raised. “All I ask from this point forward is open communication.”

  Though I understood each word he said, his voice came in and out as if my head was submerged underwater. Hoping it would clear the fog in my eardrums, I shook my head. “What happened?”

  Lynch’s eyes darted from Butala then back to me. He drew in a breath, rolled his chair forward, and propped his elbows over the desk. “You’ll hear about it anyway so you may as well hear it from me,” he folded his arms, “It didn’t start until early last week, so it’s hard to say who is doing this, but there have been vulgar pranks. Now, I know it may be too much to ask, but you’re the only person I know that isn’t behind it, so I’m asking if you can keep your eyes and ears open.”

  “Vulgar pranks? What happened exactly?”

  “Cat mutilation found in a student’s dorm early last week. Then just yesterday there was a target sign written in blood outside a door,” Lynch said with distaste in his mouth. “Now I’m not asking for you to get involved, Oliver. I only need you to let me know if you hear or see anything.”

  My stomach jumped.

  I tried to swallow it back down.

  “Absolutely.” I had a hard time focusing, my body slowly defied me, and I ran my zip-tied hand up my forehead and through my hair.

  “Good, now let’s talk about your trea
tment plan,” he said, nodding approval to Butala.

  Butala opened my file as I processed the pranks and why it was so hot in here.

  “When was the last time you took medication?” Butala asked.

  “Over three days now.”

  “How do you feel right now, Oliver?”

  “Sick…”

  “Turn around, let me see you.”

  Pivoting my chair, Butala took the stethoscope from around his neck. He brought one end to his ears and the other under my shirt against my chest. It was cold to the touch, and the room fell silent as he stared at his watch.

  “Heart rate is abnormally high,” he glanced up, and our eyes met, “Pupils are dilated,” he turned to Lynch, “He’s already experiencing the beginning stages of withdrawal.”

  Ha. Withdrawal. Such a simple word for the turmoil thrashing around within, eating away at the dead parts of me, only exposing the remanence of regret and guilt. Perspiration rolled down my hairline like ice against my hot flesh.

  “Get it under control, I don’t want a repeat like the last time,” Lynch stated.

  Butala turned back to face me. “Oliver, other than sickness, what else do you feel? Angry, sad, happy?”

  My knee bounced again, and I stretched out my leg. “Nothing. I don’t feel anything, just this sickness.”

  “We can restart his treatment today, but with already three days of skipped dosages, it could take a few days for it to take effect. You could keep him in solitary until the medication kicks back in, but I don’t recommend it. Keeping him confined may extend the recovery time.”

  “What do you recommend?” Lynch asked Butala.

  Butala sat back in his chair, studying me like a science project. “Get him set up in his new dorm and have him start his new schedule in a week or so.”

  “Very well,” Lynch sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Oliver, please don’t make me regret this. It wouldn’t be a good start to the year.”

  While the security guard escorted me to the nurse’s station, I kept my head down. A few times up the stairs, I lost my balance and quickly fought to regain it. Having both my wrists bound didn’t help.

  It was mid-morning, and since classes started today, everyone should be on the third floor. Nurse Rhonda didn’t hold back and flung her arms around me. “Get these zip-ties off him, Jerry, this boy doesn’t belong in these!” She yelled at the security guard as she held me at arm’s length.

  “Rhonda, you always had a soft spot for them,” Jerry chuckled and took a blade against my ties.

  My wrist freed, and I rubbed the insides.

  “Oh, Ollie. You need a proper haircut,” Nurse Rhonda shook her head, “I’ll do that, then you can go over there and take a shower. I’ll have Jerry get your belongings you left from storage while you shower, yeah?”

  “Yeah, sounds good.” I strained a smile despite my dizziness.

  She pulled up a chair and grabbed the scissors and comb from the cart and gestured me to sit. “You don’t look so good. You’re pale.” The back of her hand pressed against my forehead before she disappeared behind me.

  “Going through withdrawals,” I explained and kept my head steady. “Not too short.”

  Rhonda smacked the back of my head. “I’ve been cutting your hair for over a year, boy. I know what I’m doing.”

  Despite my small laugh, it was enough to remember laughing was all I had done before.

  Six months didn’t seem like a long time, but it was enough time. I’d known I loved the girl who owned my soul the second I felt her, and I’d spent six months convincing her we were meant to be together and loving her completely.

  The last seven months I’d spent numb and without her.

  Three days were spent off the pills, suffering a heat stroke in a winter storm.

  And the last sixty seconds were spent counting the days since I’d met her to avoid the ripping my heart was doing during this wintery hurricane under the sweltering sun.

  Yeah, my body was fucking confused … to put it lightly.

  I rubbed my palms up and down the rough material of the blue pants I wore from the jail, allowing them to absorb proof of my weakness. Even through my struggles, she dominated every breaking fragment. The thought of her alone kept my blood pumping while the rest of me wasted away.

  I had to know. “Ms. Rhonda?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How is she?”

  “How’s who?”

  I drew in a deep breath.

  “Mia,” I exhaled. “How’s Mia?”

  It was the first time I’d said her name out loud, and as soon as it left from my lips, the ache intensified, the need for her taste conquered the need of a numbing fix. Her name was both a stifling curse and a vital prayer. Her name invited more rips inside my chest and more memories of us together.

  Memories of the way she made me feel.

  Memories of the way I’d made her feel.

  Perfection.

  She’d always fit perfectly in my arms. She’d fit perfectly on top of me. I’d fit perfectly inside her. She’d fit perfectly beside me, against me, under me, bodies entangled and aligned.

  Every way, we’d fit without flaw.

  Her body was my kingdom come.

  Her divine kiss was my salvation.

  Her soul was mine’s paradise.

  Mia was my evermore.

  And I’d known since the moment my soul felt hers.

  My lungs shrunk as my heart shook in her name.

  “Mia’s holding up, that one. You’d be proud of those girls, you know. Her and Bria spent the summer organizing a support group for girls suffering from sexual abuse. She’s been keeping busy, that’s for sure.”

  Freeing a steady breath, I smiled. Mia was okay—a temporary fix until I could see her.

  “It’s a shame what happened,” she added.

  And just like that, my smile dissolved. “What do you mean?”

  “The bullying against her, Dean Lynch didn’t tell you?”

  “Bria?” Don’t say my girl’s name, Rhonda.

  “Mia. Found the dead cat herself right under her bed last week,” she snipped another layer of hair as it fell at the corner of my eye, “Poor girl has been through enough.”

  My fingers gripped the arms of the chair, and the ache twisted into anger. She had to be mistaken. Mia had never gone out of her way to upset anyone, at least not since I’d found her. “Has she had any meltdowns? Made visits in here or solitary since I left?”

  Was she still the same light-brown eyed girl?

  Was she still my Mia?

  “No, as I said, she’s been doing real good,” she sighed and tousled my hair, “alright, you’re good for a fortnight. Time to hit the shower.”

  Jerry, the bald guard, came back with my belongings in a trash bag, and I spent my shower thinking of Mia, trying to control my emotions at all costs.

  I needed to see her.

  But not like this.

  My hands ran up and down my face over and over under the water, in an attempt to drown out the slow-building rage inside me.

  Someone had targeted Mia.

  My clothes had been washed, and I slipped into my gray pants and black tee, feeling more like my old self, though the spells of sickness still loitered inside me and my emotions grew after each passing second. Rhonda checked me over before Jerry walked me back to my dorm.

  “This isn’t my dorm,” I stated, standing in front of Mia’s door beside Jerry.

  Jerry didn’t bother with an explanation as he unlocked the door and turned the knob. The door swung open, and a gust of new memories engulfed me. Swirling the memories I’d buried deep in my subconscious.

  The padded walls had been removed.

  A desk sat against the wall on the right.

  A be
d complete with headboard and footboard welcomed me.

  “Where is the girl that was here before?” I asked, my gaze touching every place I’d made love to her. There. There. And there.

  “Hell if I know. This isn’t my wing. I’m on third,” Jerry said and gave me a nod. “Don’t forget, dinner at five-thirty.”

  Then the door closed behind him, leaving me to fend for myself against the pictures inside my head. After dropping my bag on the floor, I sat at the edge of the bed and closed my eyes. It was all too much. Nausea whipped around in my stomach, anguish seeped through my pores and stabbed every part of me, and above all, I was bloody exhausted. The clock above the door read lunch had passed, and she would be with Dr. Conway for another forty minutes.

  Collapsing over the mattress, I closed my eyes.

  Unavoidable images of her lying under me, light brown hair sprawled across the pillow while her hips swayed in eagerness to be filled flashed like a movie. I remembered her supple pink lips turn raw from the damage mine had done while the rest of her shook under the pleasure I gifted her. Watching her come undone while still inside her, being a part of it, the purpose of it, the pulsating …

  Mia...

  Over three hours had passed before my eyes sprang to life. Rolling into a sitting position over the side, I ran my palms through my shorter hair and down my face. Every cell, muscle, and vein pounded against my skull as the rest of my body shivered in the bitter abandonment of Mia and the pills.

  I could only choose one.

  The pills were a necessary evil right now.

  But Mia was my endgame.

  I tilted my head, and the room swayed around me as I tried to find the clock. Dinner was almost over. Bringing myself to my feet, I jumped up and down on my toes to bring myself to life and wake the fuck up.

  The last thing I wanted was for her to see me like this, but we didn’t have much time. It wouldn’t be long before I’d be back to the heartless asshole, and right now, all I wanted was to see her eyes. I needed to make sure she was still with me. I wanted to feel her touch, kiss her lips, and have her eyes on me. My feelings for her flowed from my pumping heart to the rest of my body, screaming out for her.