On the Edge (The Grange Complex Book 1) novel Chapter 25

Sasha

“What do you mean?”

“Well, apparently Dexter accepted the medication and finally opened up. That was only two days ago, and everyone is still wary about any progress.”

“Did he say anything about it?”

“I’m not quite sure. The nurse said that he probably realised that he wasn’t getting out of the hospital any time soon, so he gave up. Decided to act like a grown man for a change.”

“Thank God,” I muttered.

“You know, I need to tell you—Dexter does care for you a lot.”

I inhaled, feeling as though my heart had stuttered in my chest.

Crap, where did this come from? I felt the usual warmth rising in my body. I wanted to forget about him and move on with my new life. Dexter said some crushing things to me, things that I couldn’t simply forget.

“Mrs. Tyndall, when I moved in, Dexter had many female visitors and he wasn’t particularly discreet about it. I believe that he used sex as a distraction, an outlet for his bipolar issues. He won’t have changed—I haven’t tamed him. He showed me his true colours in the hospital and said some very hurtful things that I can’t forget. Now, with proper medication, his illness can be managed. I’m moving out in two weeks and I–”

“I believe my son has fallen in love with you, Sasha,” she cut me off.

I went silent, staring at her as if she handed me my still-beating heart on my palm. I needed to get up, but I flopped back on the chair. Love—that word sounded funny even to me. Dexter didn’t believe in love or emotional attachment.

“Did he say that?” I asked.

She didn’t reply. Okay, so it was clear that he didn’t drop on his knees and reveal to her that he finally found the love of his life. Besides, I couldn’t imagine him even saying something like that.

Mrs. Tyndall cleared her throat. “No, not exactly.”

“He doesn’t love me, Mrs. Tyndall. It was just sex between us, that’s all.”

“Dexter shared with me what he said and the way he spoke to you in the hospital. I believe that week gave him some time to think and now he regrets what he said.”

I needed more air, because all of a sudden I felt like I was suffocating. He called me a fat, whiny lay and told me he was done with me. This whole thing went too far. I wasn’t ready to hear that he finally came to his senses, that he understood that he’d done wrong. Whatever. He had weeks with me and never once told me that he wanted me to be anything more than a quick fuck.

“Dexter believes… I won’t directly quote him, Mrs. Tyndall, but to him love is for wimps, so it’s impossible. He doesn’t love me and there won’t be any reconciliation between us.”

“He’s a man, Sasha, and it takes them longer to grasp something so obvious. I’m not here to convince you to give him another chance. That has to come from him. I just wanted to thank you for looking out for him. My husband took his own life. He, too, went to the doctors and they never looked into his mental well-being. This illness could be genetic, and now after so many years I can finally begin to understand what had been going on.”

I felt like I was betraying Dex and myself. I couldn’t go to visit him, because I knew that if I saw him, I couldn’t deny that I was in love with him. Dexter needed to get back on his feet on his own. His mother could say whatever she had to, but we both knew that Dexter wasn’t willing to change.

Mrs. Tyndall didn’t stay long. We chatted a bit more about his behaviour and the fact that the doctors believed that finally he had the right medication to control his illness. All I wanted was to move out before he returned, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to start over without saying a proper good-bye.

Dexter

It had been two and a half fucking weeks and I was still stuck in the ward. It didn’t take me long to grasp that Bishop was a self-important asshole. I couldn’t fucking bribe him and the big nurse wasn’t falling for my charms. They were relentless, trying to convince me to take the meds, but I knew better. For months I had been taking my own drugs, and I didn’t need Prozac to feel like a new me. I spent most of the time in my room, staring at the wall, thinking and analysing what happened to be me.

For about a week I refused to see my mother and brother. Jack was in the army and he was away somewhere in Germany. I was glad. He didn’t need to see me like this. I knew that I was a stubborn fuck. My own inner darkness had been mounting since the moment Sasha had walked away from me. This place wasn’t helping. Nights were the worst, because then I had dreams. Shit—so many intense dreams that pulled me back into the oblivion.

One morning, I woke up abruptly after dreaming about my father. I missed him and I still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that he made that selfish decision to leave us. I was just a kid then, but I should have known that there was something wrong. Now I remembered all the symptoms, the outbursts of anger, the mood swings. I always did what he asked me because I wanted to make him proud.

I remembered very well that day when I found his body. He had been drinking in the evening and arguing with Ma about her talking to the neighbour next door. He thought that she was having an affair, that she was cheating on him. I couldn’t listen to him, so I went out to see a girl from school that I desperately wanted to date. I spent my last pocket money on some shitty flowers and chocolate, thinking that if I impressed her she would finally choose me. Dad always taught me to show people how much you cared for them, so that’s what I did. When I showed up she was standing outside her house with a popular kid a year older than me, and they were kissing. I couldn’t believe it. I had been helping her with homework, bringing her tea and sweets during breaks. I thought she was the one.

She didn’t even notice me and I was devastated, furious with the fact that I wasted so much time with her. Back then I was naive enough to believe that I had a better chance of going out with girls if I treated them well.

That evening I stayed up until the early hours of the morning, walking around the neighbourhood waiting for my father to find me and give me hell about being late. He didn’t come, so I went home. Mum’s car was gone. I knew she was probably out looking for me. I headed straight for the attic, planning to stay there and wait for Mum, wanting to be somewhere else. The attic door was stuck, but I managed to open it. As soon as I stepped inside, my eyes took in my father’s swaying body. He was hanging from the ceiling. For a long moment I just stood there trying to snap out of my shock, the darkness slowly consuming me. A cold chill invaded the marrow in my bones, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I had no idea how long I stood there. Maybe half an hour, maybe an hour. Finally, I heard my mother’s car and I went to get her. For about half an hour everyone in the house was screaming, crying, trying to deal with the shock. I went back to my room and clenched my fists. Before I knew it, tears began falling and didn’t stop. My father had left me; he took the path of death and despair.