Read The Healing (The Things We Can't Change Book 3) for Free Online

that it all belonged to Ian Parker.
    Evie is standing behind the desk, facing my direction. I see it all; the bare forearm, the gauze, the giant knife in her other hand, laid against her forearm. I see it, but it isn’t until I see the long ribbon of blood welling from the long diagonal cut that I really process what she’s doing. And then I lose it.
    “Evie, what the FUCK?” I scream. I’m across the room and behind the desk so quickly I can’t even process it. I just know one minute I’m shouting her name, and the next I’m there behind the desk, knocking the knife out of her hand and sending it flying across the room.
    It’s all chaos for one blind, hysteria-filled moment; I’m shouting but I don’t even know what I’m saying and Evie is shouting back at me but I can’t even hear her over the roaring my ears. I think I’m asking her over and over again what the hell she’s doing, and she’s screaming for me to leave but I know that I can’t.
    Instead I grab her arm because it’s bleeding all over the fucking place now, large rivulets trailing down toward her wrist. Evie tries to pull away from me but I don’t let go, only yank the gauze off the desk by one end, so it flies off the desk and into the air, landing on the carpeted floor and half the roll unraveling as I pull desperately on it.
    “Stop!” Evie is screaming, fighting me with everything she has and the blood on her arm is making my hold on her slippery, but I still refuse to let go. “Stop, Zeke! Let go of me! Get out! You have no right to be in here!”
    “No! You’re fucking crazy, Evie! Quit! Fighting! Me!” I have to grunt out the last few words because she’s trying to push me away with her free hand, and finally I give up on having any tact and get her into a headlock, capturing her beneath me so I’m in a superior position due to my height and strength.
    She’s screaming and kicking and hissing now, giving no thought to her cut wrist or the droplets of blood that are falling to the desk and the floor. I know she’s probably panicked not just because I found her, but because I’m touching her. I know I should have some respect for her because I know she doesn’t like to be touched, that it terrifies her, but shit , she’s terrified me and I’m losing my mind because she’s still fucking bleeding and all I can think is that I’ve got to make it stop.
    I wrestle with her until she’s in front of me and I have her pushed up against the desk, am practically lying down on top of her to get her to hold still. I don’t know if she’s just tired herself out or if she’s feeling lightheaded from all the blood she’s lost, but Evie isn’t struggling as hard, though she’s by no means giving up. I ignore her struggles and clumsily use my free hand to wrap the gauze around and around her arm. It’s a shitty bandage, sloppy and clumsy and hardly all that effective, since it’s not very tight, but it’s a battle sure enough, and I refuse to quit until I’ve won.
    Finally, I’ve practically wrapped the whole roll of gauze around her arm and only then do I back off, wiping my sweaty brow and my chest heaving with both exertion and horror. Evie stays slack over the top of the desk, her cut arm still outstretched in front of her, laying on her side, her other arm curled at her side and clenched in a fist. She’s breathing heavy too but shows no inclination to get up from her sloppy position.
    “What the hell , Evie,” I finally push out, and my voice is hoarse. “What are you doing to yourself? How long have you been doing that?”
    Her eyes close, squeeze shut tightly and her mouth pinches into a tight line, and she doesn’t answer me, only lays there and breathes, out and in. She’s wearing fewer clothes than I’ve ever seen in the past few weeks, some kind of sleep-boxer shorts and a lightweight t-shirt with no shoes. My eyes rake over her and I see all the scratches and scrapes on her thighs, some scabbing over, others