MADISON

Corpse-like, I still had to accompany Caden to see a doctor, as promised.

I sat in his car, staring through the window with nothing else to say. I have tried, but invariably, he won't open up to me.

In fact, he despises me more than before, and he made sure to make that clear back in his room earlier.

Not only did he turn his room upside down and hurt himself, but he also said it out loud. He hates me.

Maybe I shouldn't have said the L-word.
Yes, I regret vomiting how I feel for him. And if I could rewind time, I would have stayed mute the ride back from Santa Cruz.

Maybe we could have maintained whatever kind of relationship we had yesterday. Maybe nice Caden would've stayed, but I went on and ran my mouth. Now we have lost everything.

At the hospital, Caden and I had to wait for Bryan to catch up.

When he got out of his luxurious car, he put on his hood and inclined his head to avoid attracting attention. Still, it did nothing because, in a matter of some moments, there were obsessive fans and flashes of cameras everywhere.

With Caden grabbing my hand and pulling me into the hospital (which left me wondering why), no one seemed to notice Bryan was with us.

However, at the reception, people began to notice because Bryan turned down every picture request, pleading with his fans to bear with him. He introduced them to me, addressing me as a friend and telling them about my minor accident.

Caden, for the first time, was strange in public. He wasn't smirking or mocking anyone. He had been quiet ever since we settled down around the waiting area. His fingers remained laced on his thighs. He focused his eyes on nothing in particular and never said a word.

By the time Caden and I got to see the doctor, I was quite famous around the hospital.

Yes, with present fangirl nurses, we were allowed to see the doctor at the same time, and Bryan was supportive even with Caden's weird attitude. He insisted on staying by my side while the doctor checked the cut on my neck.

"How are you feeling?" The doctor asked after taking a closer look at my cut.

"I feel better." I smiled at the middle-aged man.

I was sitting on the exam table with three men scrutinizing me, and my nervous legs wouldn't stop wiggling.

"You look tired. Is it from the accident?"

"No, I had a long day yesterday," I answered the doctor, while my gaze instinctively met those marvelous hazel eyes staring at me so sharply.

Staring back, I began to wonder what was going on in his head.

"I suggest you take some rest. The cut on your neck is healing, so you're doing good," the doctor informed me, while Bryan's hands moved up and down my back in a way that should have been soothing. However, it wasn't. I felt uncomfortable and wished I could tell him to stop.

But my mom says to be grateful. She has reminded me of that ever since she married Caden's dad, and so I was taught to politely accept people's kindness whether I wanted it or not.

"Thank you..."

I stepped down from the exam table with Bryan's help before I continued, "And my brother here had some accident over the weekend, I mean even recently. We are wondering if the wounds didn't get infected." I told the doctor, gesturing toward Caden.

When our eyes met, I found unease in his before he looked away.

"Can I examine the wounds, please?" The doctor called Caden to the exam table, and somehow, he obliged without protest.

He settled on the soft table quietly, glancing at me every so often, or brushing his hair with his fingers frequently and returning his hands to his pants pocket.

He was nervous and anxious. I could see it in his complexion.

The doctor used a tiny torch to attentively observe Caden's injuries for over a minute.

"Okay, I will clean it and apply some antibiotics, and you're good to go," the man politely told Caden, while he proceeded to put on disposable hand gloves.

But Caden summoned that arrogance and stood from the table.

"Great, I can do that myself; let's go," he said with a fake grin on his face and began approaching the exit.

"Caden." I lifted from the armchair and, without thinking, I grabbed his arm.

I shouldn't have, for he yanked away immediately, leaving me embarrassed in the middle of the quiet room.

"It's better if we do it here with expert instructions." The doctor calmly advised.

Caden scoffed, shaking his head in a traditional way, his bottom lip folded between his teeth for a second before he released it and ran his hand around his face.

He seemed agitated and frantic with anger.

I just wanted to help.

"For fuck's sake, shut up, when did expert instructions ever do anything lifesaving?" He thundered at the doctor.

The man stepped back, instantly pale, while he pleaded with Caden to "Calm down."

"Do not tell me to calm down."

Before any of us could stop him, Caden had the man up against the wall, squeezing his throat with a single hand while the man fought for his life.

It was an unfamiliar side of Caden I didn't know.

He was rude, arrogant, mocking, and mean, but he was never violent. For years he had maintained that, but maybe things have changed.

Maybe he had been different for a while, as he had said about his torn knuckles and busted face. He had been getting involved in fights, whether with his friends or those he considered enemies.

Not caring whether he would push me away, I wrapped my hands around his waist from behind him, trying to get him to release the man choking on his breath.

"Caden, what are you doing, please? Don't," I begged.

"They were all there, and they didn't wake her up. They didn't even try to wake her up."

Her? Who?

The man's struggles bridged any understanding I tried to figure out about what Caden had just said.

"Caden... You are going to kill him." I partially yelled.

I was panicking while I used all my effort to rip him away from the doctor, but Caden wouldn't budge until Bryan gave me a hand.

"Caden," Bryan warned my stepbrother. His firm hands stayed on Caden's heaving chest, restraining him from making any move toward the scared doctor.

While Bryan guided my stepbrother out of the exam room, I grabbed my bag from the armchair and apologized to the man struggling to breathe: "I am so sorry."

"Take him away from me." The doctor demanded, pointing towards the door like Caden was some monster.

I know. I felt the same too.

"What is your problem, man?" Bryan exclaimed, just when Caden shoved him in the chest and growled: "Know your place."

Weak, I tried to smile at Bryan. He was helpful. I can't imagine what would've happened if he hadn't been here.

"Can you please give us a minute?" I asked, most politely, and Bryan nodded, returning a soft smile before leaving, as I requested.

It was all I wished Caden could be, nice and understanding. But it seemed too much to ask.

Against the wall, Caden leaned, his hands in his pocket, his head down, making it hard for me to see the expression on his face because his hair was flowing over his face.

I dared myself to step toward him, assured he wouldn't hurt me.

"Caden?" I stopped a foot away from him, opposite him. "Please talk to me."

"You had to make me come here," he whispered, his head still down.

"What?" I confusedly countered.

"Because you're hurt," I said.

"Your man is waiting for you out there," he straightened and swallowed, still not looking at me. "You don't want to keep him waiting."

What does that mean? He had said that twice in the span of an hour.

Is he mad at Bryan for preventing him from being a murderer? Or for me bringing someone along who's willing to be around not someone unstable?

I exasperatedly exhaled, mimicking his shaking head signature. "You're not violent. You are not like this. Yesterday you attacked someone today you do the same."

He finally looked at me with doleful eyes, his brows lowered and pulled together when he mumbled, "He harassed you, Mad."

I stared into his eyes for answers to the sudden shift of his emotions, but he wasn't letting me in.

My lips parted, I tried to speak, but nothing came out.

Confusion had always been the heaviest feeling that drowned me in a dark abyss where my screams were muffled. It left me feeling like the desperation of finding an exit was insufficient. It made me crazy about the uncertainty of things. What's precisely happening? What a specific something means, or what I did wrong.

Unlike pain, which fades with time, confusion appeared to linger on. It left you seeking explanations no matter the years that passed. It didn't matter whether you were on your deathbed, or in your last hours of life. You just needed that answer.

"I don't understand you," I finally muttered.

He seemed to observe me for some seconds before he swallowed and took his eyes away from me.

"I don't understand myself either," he confessed and walked away, leaving me paralyzed in the empty space.