Zion's Garden - Chapter 4.2

One at the morning passed, but Zion did not return. I threw the bottle of pills in frustration, watching it skitter across the floor. At some point, I crumpled on the sofa, sleep dragging me under like a tide. Just as I’d found him the day we met—folded in on himself, vulnerable and unmoving.

Waking drenched in sweat from a nightmare, the sound of cymbals thrummed three times. I sat up on the couch, the soft rustle of a blanket slipping to the floor. Although I was certain I’d left the lights blazing across the mansion, darkness had seeped in during the night. Heart pounding, I stood, flipping the ceiling lights on, the sudden brightness pressing against my temples as I searched the room.

Where is he?

Without hesitation, I strode across the room, shoving open the door to Sion’s bedroom—a place I usually avoided, haunted by an unspoken reluctance. But now, it was empty. The familiar scent of him clung to the air, making me inhale sharply, then freeze, realization dawning with a cold shiver.

What am I doing?

Shaking my head as if to dislodge the stray thoughts, I told myself it was only natural to be concerned. I was Zion’s doctor, paid an obscene sum to monitor him, after all. Concern for a patient was instinctual, necessary. Yet room after room yielded no sign of him. I returned to the living room, staring down at the fallen crimson blanket, my breath hitching.

Had Zion covered me while I slept? The idea felt foolish. There were silent, unseen figures in this place, ghost-like attendants who did everything without acknowledgment. It wasn’t necessarily him.

A strange hollowness opened up inside me, and I reached for the pack of cigarettes in my pocket, craving nicotine almost as much as the open night air. Turning away from the front door, I opted for the back exit. The thought of meeting Zion returning home, smug with a knowing smirk, was intolerable. I didn’t want him seeing how I’d waited, unbidden and foolish.

Sliding open the tall glass doors, the cool night breeze rushed to meet me, soothing my simmering restlessness. My fingers, ready to light the cigarette, faltered, and I pocketed it instead, striding toward the large, oval-shaped pool. It was absurdly grand for one man. Under the blue halogen lights, the water shimmered, and I let the silence press down. But then my step caught on something.

I looked down. The moonlight glinted off something dark and polished—Zion’s shoes.

“What the hell…”

Lifting my gaze, I noticed it then: a pale shape, unmoving, floating on the water’s surface. I was sprinting before the thought finished forming.

Splash!

The icy shock of water swallowed me whole, biting at my skin as I swam, arms slicing through the dark expanse. My fingers found him, limp and cold. Wrapping an arm around his torso, I struggled to kick, breath and strength ebbing with each stroke. The pool felt endless, deep and treacherous. Cursing the cigarettes I’d smoked, I dragged him, the weight of him pulling me down like a stone. When we reached the edge, I heaved him out, gasping for breath.

His face was ghastly pale, lifeless.

Fumbling, I pressed my ear to his mouth—no breath. My mind blanked, a roaring white noise.

“Zion, no…”

I found the pulse point behind his jaw—nothing. Without hesitation, I positioned his head, opening his airway, my body moving on autopilot. I pressed down on his chest, counting compressions, mouth sealing over his to breathe life into him. Again and again, the sharp crack of pressure beneath my hands warned of broken ribs, but I didn’t stop. I willed my breath into his lungs, my world narrowing to the feel of his chest beneath my palms.

Please. Please.

The cold was gone. Sweat poured down my face, and time stretched unbearably until—

A harsh, wet gasp, followed by choking. Water spewed from Sion’s mouth, his body jerking as he coughed, eyes fluttering open, glassy and bewildered.

“Doctor?”

The word, hoarse and broken, snapped something inside me. My legs gave out, and I fell back, a tremor coursing through me as the tension shattered all at once. He blinked up at me, breathing ragged.

“I… I’m not dead, am I?” he rasped, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.

A sudden rage flared hot in my chest.

“Die? Who the hell gave you permission to die?” I snapped, climbing over him, my fist finding his face. His head jerked sideways, and blood trickled from his split lip, but I didn’t care. Grabbing his shirt, I hauled him up, voice cracking.
“If you’re going to die, do it somewhere out of sight, you bastard! Are you making a statement? What’s so damn hard about your life, you spoiled, entitled asshole? You’ve got everything, and you’re going to—what? Throw it away? Life’s a game to you? You think I’ll stand by and watch this circus? Answer me, damn it!”

Zion raised a shaking, wet hand to his forehead, laughter spilling out, strange and empty.

“Haha… ha… ha…”

I didn’t release my grip, even as his laughter wracked his body.
“What’s so funny, you lunatic?”

“Doctor… you’re adorable.”

“Shut up, Zion. Unless you want me to push you back in.”

“You shouldn’t have pulled me out, then.”

“I said shut up.”

“It wasn’t because it’s hard, Doctor.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t trying to die because it’s hard.” He fumbled in his drenched pocket, pulling something out. My eyes caught on it, and rage coiled tighter as the item dangled before me: a handful of used condoms.

He chuckled bitterly.

“They told me I should still use them. Didn’t want some strange disease raising suspicion for her husband. But forcing something that doesn’t work… it’s laughable, isn’t it? Some fifty-something tycoon’s wife—she wasn’t even my type.” His smile turned into a grimace. “It crumpled, I laughed. Offended the client, I suppose.”

And then I understood. I understood why he’d left with such hollow eyes, why he’d looked back at me as if headed for slaughter.

“You… then tonight—”

“Yes, Doctor.” His voice dropped, edged in weary resignation.
“You said it yourself, didn’t you? You can’t stand people who sell themselves.”

The words hung between us, sharp and suffocating.