Children of Redemption (Children of Vice 3)

“Yes, now fire the morons who declared me brain dead,” I snapped at her, glaring out at the glass at the bloody idiots who apparently didn’t have the balls to face me since I’d regained my speech and upper body movement.

Three weeks.

Three fucking weeks just to get to this point, and my legs still felt like damn logs. I knew the feeling would come back, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t be pissed at how long it was bloody taking.

“Your condition was dire when you were brought in. They followed protocol—”

“If you mean they almost had me buried alive, yeah sure,” I snapped, annoyed. Now that I wasn’t trapped and was in full control of myself, I was goddamn pissed!

“You wouldn’t have been buried alive,” she replied, shining the damn light in my eyes. “You would have most likely gone into shock and then died of hypoxia.”

Looking away from her and toward the man beside me casually eating my damn applesauce, I asked, “Why is she still the chief of this hospital?”

Ethan blinked like he hadn’t been paying attention, needing to recall the question before answering. His green eyes looked to her and then back to me, “She gives us a discount.”

“We own half the hospital!”

“Doesn’t mean we don’t still pay,” he replied, taking another spoonful into his mouth before flipping the page of his book.

He couldn’t be serious right now.

“You can take him home now, Mr. Callahan,” she spoke directly to him.

“You’re not just saying that because he’s annoying, are you?”

She dared to giggle. “Of course not. I take the health of my doctors very seriously. He’s cleared all the tests, but he’ll need a wheelchair while undergoing therapy.”

“Can you sedate him? He’ll complain—”

“You really want to fight with me today?” I asked him, and he sighed while rising from the chair and tossing a wool coat to me.

I grabbed it and put it on, and he wheeled the chair over to me. Luckily, he knew better than to help me and just held it as I dragged myself over. He bent down, putting my shoes in front of me…and I could feel myself getting annoyed as he put them on my feet.

“Where’s Helen?”

“Why? You’d prefer if she did this for you?” he questioned, looking back at me.

“Yes, actually I would—”

“I thought you loved her. She’s working so hard to get all the motion back in her fingers, and you want her tying your shoes?”

I closed my eyes…because I’d lost this battle, and I was an idiot. I’d forgotten for a second, too busy being annoyed with my own progress. I felt weak…and after everything that had happened, all I wanted was control over myself. The medical part of my mind understood the very fact that I was functioning. That I had regained so much of my strength was a miracle. Most people never got any significant motor function back and spent the rest of their lives as a vegetable, communicating through their eyes. I should have been grateful for that, that I had so much of myself back already.

But I was starting to realize it just wasn’t in my nature.

I wanted what I wanted, and when I didn’t get it…no…I always got it.

“Thank you for not making this a big spectacle,” I muttered as he wheeled me into the hallway. The nurses, doctors, the very few people on our floor—they were all gone, nowhere in sight, and I knew he did that, for me.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said when we reached the elevator, and I was a tad bit nervous, expecting something when the doors opened. But instead it was empty. “Someone has trust issues.”

I rolled my eyes. “Years of having you as an older brother, can you blame me?”

Shit. I didn’t mean to say that—

“Years of having you as a little brother, can you blame me?” he questioned back, and I couldn’t help it. I smirked.

“So we bring out the worst in each other?”