Sick

I closed Ramona's door, grabbed another shirt from my office, and then made my way outside the mental institution. I was unlocking my car door before my shock caught up to me.

My hands started to shake too badly for me to hold my keys, let alone unlock the door. I crouched and grabbed them, only to drop them again. I leaned back against my car and sank to the ground, forcing my hands to the ground so I wouldn't touch any of the burns on my torso.

“Fuck,” I hissed, and grabbed my keys. I dragged myself to my feet and managed to unlock my car door successfully. I got in and drove home.

Only when I threw my keys down at home did I realize I didn't tell anyone that I was leaving. I called Victor's cell, which was usually off anyways, and told him I wasn't feeling well. It was a poor excuse, but I haven't called off work since I started working with him.

I went to the bathroom, started the shower, running the cold only, and stripped down. I turned my stereo system on so that my walls just about shook, and took a deep breath before stepping into the freezing water.

The burns on my chest screamed in protest and my muscles locked up, the thrill making me want to leap away from the cold, but I locked my jaw and took deep breaths. I forced myself forward so the water ran into my hair, onto my face and down the rest of my body.

After just a couple of minutes, I stepped out of the shower, turning it off after I had a towel wrapped around my waist. I looked at the burns in the mirror, applying burn cream and taping gauze onto them so the fabric of my shirt wouldn't rub into them. I checked where her lips had touched my cheekbone and when I applied the cream, the sting from the wound almost made tears come to my eyes.

I put a bandage on my face, and took in my appearance. With all the dressing on my wounds, I looked as if I had just been through a battlefield or a cheese grater.

I wandered into my bedroom, and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. I took a few deep breaths and sat on my bed. I looked around my room, then laid back on it. I heard my phone ringing somewhere in my apartment, but I just didn't have the willpower to go and grab it. It was probably Victor, asking where the hell I was. Did he think I couldn't handle Ramona? Maybe he was calling to say I was off 'Ramona duty' forever. Which was fine because her counterpart, Ridley, was just fucking insane. She was homicidal, violent, and protective of Ramona.

I wasn't religious, and I never really pondered the existence of angels or demons. In fact, when I watched movies like The Exorcist and The Exorcism of Emily Rose, I thought it was complete bullshit.

But seeing Ramona become Ridley, that was enough to make anyone question their beliefs. Her eyes, those eyes, made me want to leap from a cliff, so I'd never stare into them again. They sought out the evil in everyone, and exposed every thought, every intention, everything that made you human, to her.

I rolled out of bed, careful not to rub against the newly dressed burns, and grabbed my phone from the living room. I checked who had called, and was surprised to see it was Samantha. I called her back.

“Sam? What's wrong?” I asked and she answered shakily.

“I need to see you, Elijah.”

“I, uh- sure, Sam. I'm at my apartment, just come on over,” I told her, knowing it was already probably a bad idea to invite her over.

“Thank you,” she whispered and hung up.

Next, I called Victor and left another voice mail, telling him I probably wouldn't be in for a couple more days and to call me back.



I answered the door when Samantha knocked and she slipped past me, ducking her head and wringing her hands.

“I told Victor about us,” she said and I froze, staring at her from the door. I slammed the door and walked over to her, grabbing her shoulders and shook her hard, once.

“Why would you do that? I'm going to lose my job now,” I hissed and she looked up at me. I stepped back from her when my eyes landed on the black eye that was forming around her right eye, and the cut on her lip.

“I had to Elijah. He was asking questions and just-” she broke off, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Did he do this to you?” I asked, touching her cheek lightly. She nodded and I didn't know what to do. “Sam, you and I- I mean, we're not seeing each other anymore. I can't,” I whispered and she nodded, tears running down her cheeks.

“I don't know why though, Elijah. Am I just not good enough for you?” I sat down on the couch, and ran my hands through my hair. The movement caused Samantha to look at me and she gasped. “What happened to you?”

“Don't worry about what happened to me, Samantha. It's not that you're not good enough for me... I just did a terrible thing. You're married, and-”

“I'm sure Victor will end the marriage now that he knows about us. What then?” I shook my head.

“I can't get into any type of relationship right now, Sam. If I get to keep my job, that'll be my life.”

“You don't seem like the type to be a workaholic, Elijah. Come back to me,” she said and slid onto my lap, turning my face up toward hers. She planted light kisses on my face, applying more pressure on my lips and running her hands through my hair. I grabbed her hands and pulled them out of my hair. She pulled back, and smiled sadly. “Please? Just once more? For me?”

I released her hands and placed mine on her hips.

“Just this once, Samantha.”