“You never tried it again?” Annabel asked.

I shook my head. “No, it was around then that Breakneck reached out to me. As a member of the Raiders, I guess he saw a change in me—one that was worse than my brothers. Maybe he had a soft spot for cases like mine because he had experienced something similar in the past. Or maybe he just wanted to help out a brother’s kid. At first, I wondered if he was just some other pervert like Kurt. But then I remembered how kind he had been the day my father had taken me to him. So when I was just twelve I started going with Breakneck when he worked at the free clinic down in Atlanta. I got to help out doing small chores, which kept my mind occupied, and at the same time, I got to see people who were far worse off than me.”

“And that’s what eventually helped you move on?”

“That and time. The old adage about it healing all wounds is true. Of course, the pain is never completely forgotten. It’s more like it lies buried below the surface. Certain sights, smells, or sounds can bring it back.”

Annabel raised a bloodstained hand to tenderly touch my cheek. “Thank you for saving me. Again.”

My brows shot up in surprise. “You really mean that?”

Cocking her head to the side, she remained contemplative for a moment. Then her eyes once again met mine. “Yes, I do.”

It was at that moment that Breakneck appeared in the doorway. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered with wide eyes.

Annabel snatched her hand away from my cheek and then ducked her head from Breakneck’s stare. Shielding her from the barrage of questions I knew he wanted to ask, I said, “Annabel needs you to take a look at her wrists. She may need stitching. I’ll clean up in here.”

When he realized exactly what had transpired, his lips pinched together tightly. I could imagine that inside he was silently seething.

With a wince, I pulled myself off the ground. Unsteady on my wounded leg, I weaved back and forth for a moment. Once I was stable, I reached down to help Annabel up. She couldn’t bring herself to look me in the eye, so I gently put my finger under her chin and tipped her gaze to mine. “You let Breakneck take care of you while I clean up. Then, if you’re feeling up to it, you can take a shower, or we can get one of the nurses to clean you up. Okay?”

She nodded and then padded barefoot out of the bathroom. With an agitated sigh, Breakneck turned to go, but I grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” I hissed under my breath.

“Don’t what?” he demanded.

“Don’t be hard on her.”

His eyes flashed with rage before he pushed me inside the bathroom and shut the door. “You want me to coddle a girl who almost threw her life away this morning? A girl who should be fucking grateful she’s alive at all when so many aren’t?”

I shoved him against the blood-spattered wall with more force than I’d intended. “For one minute, leave Sarah out of all of this. Think back to that eleven-year-old kid you stitched up one day and then weeks later tried to put back together when he fell apart.” Breakneck blinked in acknowledgment. “You cannot and will not discredit her pain. She has every fucking right to want to take her life. That’s not our place to judge. Our part is to help her see there’s a reason to go on no matter how hard it seems right now. You feel me?”

“Yeah, I feel you,” he replied.

After releasing him, I took a step back. “Glad to hear it.”

His gaze dipped down to my leg. “Are you all right?”

“Just a little tender, that’s all.”

“Maybe I should have a look at it.”

“Take care of Annabel first.”

“Chivalrous to a fucking fault,” he muttered before turning and leaving me.

I didn’t want to alert the medical staff to what had transpired with Annabel, so I ducked out of the bathroom and then stole a bucket and mop out of the supply closet. I also grabbed a pair of scrubs so I would have something to change into once I finished cleaning. After a quick sweep of the floor and walls, I returned the supplies, then took a long, scalding shower.

My calf still hurt like a motherfucker, but at least the stitches hadn’t popped and there was no bleeding. I slipped the scrubs on and took one last inspection of the bathroom before going outside.

Breakneck had finished up with Annabel’s stitches. Annabel’s and Bishop’s attention was drawn to the television while Breakneck stared at his phone. At the sight of me, Annabel jerked her gaze to mine.

“Shower’s all yours now.”

She nodded and then turned to Breakneck. “It’s okay if I get the stitches wet?”

“The gauze should protect them. Just don’t stay in long. And if you start to feel light-headed, call out for one of us.”

“Okay,” she replied. After taking the spare hospital gown from the side of the bed, she went into the bathroom.

Bishop glanced between me and Breakneck. “You think it’s safe for her to be alone in there?”

“I did a sweep of the bathroom. There’s nothing in there she could use, even if she was so inclined.”

“Where the fuck did she get a razor to start with?”

I shrugged. “Maybe she asked one of the nurses for it. Since she wasn’t on suicide watch, they probably didn’t think a thing about it.”

“You don’t think she’ll be a repeat offender and ask them again?” Bishop asked.

Before I could reply, Breakneck said, “No. I think she’s going to be all right.” When I shot a questioning look at him, he gave a brief jerk of his head. “For a first-timer, she did a number on her wrists, but the wounds weren’t deep enough, and after talking with her, I don’t think she needs to be put on suicide watch or anything like that.”