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Breathe in, breathe out. That's what he was taught to do in medical school for numerous reasons. Patients panicking was one, that was a fairly common reason to teach them the exercise, but it came in handy for himself while working, especially cutting.
One slip-up of the blade and things could go severely wrong, a snipped stitch, a cut artery.
A foot missing.
He could hear the way Adam begged at him, the way he cried and SCREAMED at him to stop as he furiously cut through his ankle, biting down hard on his shirt sleeve while blood gushed everywhere, his body weak from how much he'd lost as he managed to pull himself away from the chain that bound him to the pipe.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Lawrence typed at his computer, eyes fixated on the screen he'd been staring at for the past hour, keys clacking as his fingers rhythmically danced over them. He let out a sigh as he finished writing the final report, leaning back in the office chair as it squeaked in protest. He ran his hands down his face, groaning as he rubbed at his eyes, struggling to open them back up. It was almost tempting to just lay back in the chair and sleep right in his office, but he didn't want to stare at his office any longer.
He pulled his hands away, managing to crack his eyes open to glimpse at the clock on the wall, the little hand barely hovering over the 11. He'd been at this for hours now, it was about damn time he went home and slept, ready to wake back up three or so hours from now. The doctor leaned forth as he quickly read over the report and fixed any errors he caught, sending the report out and shutting the computer down before reaching for his cane, leaning his weight into it as he stood with a groan.
Lawrence winced as he put pressure on the prosthetic leg, hand gripped tightly on the cane as he tried to stand. He took in a sharp breath, his other hand pressed against the desk's surface as he steadied himself, waiting for the pain to subside before it finally faded, the doctor letting out a sigh as he reached for his jacket. He only had the damn thing for about a month and he still wasn't used to it. A sick reminder of his decisions, and what he'd left behind.
Breathe in, breathe out.
"Don't think about it," he muttered to himself, slipping his arms through the jacket sleeves before grabbing his case from beside the desk. He took a few steps forth, a little cautious at first before he stepped out of the office, locking the door behind him before limping his way towards the elevator, starting to reach for the button before hearing it ding, staring as the doors opened to reveal a short woman pushing a cart.
"Sherry," he sighed as the woman stopped halfway, a little startled before calming down at the sight of him. "I didn't realize you were still here."
"Me? I should say the same for you," Sherry chuckled. "You're not usually here this late, Larry."
"I had some paperwork to finish. I'm not used to the amount I get here compared to my previous location."
"Right, you transferred from that Angel of Mercy place. Good thing, too, I heard about that orderly going missing. Do you know if they ever found him?"
Like anyone would be able to find Zep down there, rotting away with Adam.
Breathe in, breathe out.
"No, I don't think they did," Lawrence said, leaning against his cane for support. Any minute longer on the leg and he was sure it'd fall off, taking him with it.
"Well, thank goodness you got out of there," Sherry hummed, tapping her hand against the cart. "Anyway, I need to do my rounds on this floor, so I'll let you get going. You get home safe, you hear?"
"I will, thank you." Sherry smiled as she pushed her cart forth, letting Lawrence squeeze past her into the elevator, reaching for the floor button as he gave her a small nod, earning a wave back from her. "Goodnight, Sherry."
"Night, Larry."
Lawrence stared at the doors as they shut between them, leaving him alone in the small metal space that descended. It was too quiet, no faint music playing over the speakers to distract him from that uneasy feeling creeping in the back of his mind as he stared down at the floor. He tried not to think about that day, about the things he'd seen and heard, but especially because of his last words to him. He gripped his cane tightly, feeling his hand shake a little at the last words he ever told him.
"I wouldn't lie to you."
Breathe in, breathe out.
The elevator dinged softly, eyes shooting as the doors slid back open and the doctor slowly stepped out. The lobby was fairly empty, save for the receptionist who was too focused on a phone call as the doctor limped his way the hospital doors and across the street for the parking lot nearby. There was a parking garage beneath the hospital itself, a bit closer than where he was leaving his car everyday, but the doctor wasn't fond of the dark underground space, unable to shake that horrible feeling from even just standing in one.
Reminds him too much of that day.
The moment he stepped through the doors, he was met with a chilly autumn breeze, pulling his coat collar awkwardly to shield his face and keep warm. He wasn't fond of the cold weather, but he sometimes put up with it when Diana wanted to play in the snow, but nowadays, it just makes him think of that shitty little bathroom.
Alone on his side, unable to feel any warmth until he was holding Adam. What he wouldn't give to have that again.
Lawrence made it to his car, almost unaware he got there so fast while his mind was wandering, keys clutched tightly in his hand as he slowly reached out to unlock and pull the door open, sliding into the driver's seat with a heavy sigh before tossing his briefcase and cane into the passenger seat. He sat there quietly, hands gripping the wheel as he took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling slowly through the nose as he sank back in the seat.
Breathe in, breathe out.
He sighed quietly once the thought no longer lingered, rubbing at his face as he leaned forth to start the car, engine revving as the radio lit to life, his eyes darting in its direction as a soft tune played from it, one he'd heard before during work. He didn't remember leaving it on, but he still hummed along with the tune, hand tapping against the steering wheel as it helped clear his mind further, pulling out of the parking lot and driving onto the main road.
The drive back was a long one, but at least he didn't have to deal with the traffic this late. Save for a few cars, the road was practically empty, most stores already closed or starting to close for the night the employees inside turning off the bright neon 'OPEN' signs and pulling down blinds to finish sweeping up and get the hell out before anyone knew they were still there. He eyed a few small restaurants that were open late, one of the few businesses that had any cars near it, wondering if he should pick up something tonight or just drive home and find something buried in the fridge.
With Alison and Diana gone, it was just himself to take care of, but he found it near impossible on most days. He was reassured by his own colleagues that he'll be able to get back into the swing of things once he got used to the leg, but they didn't know, couldn't understand. How could anyone know what he was going through?
Lawrence sighed as the song on the radio started to bother him, reaching for the dial to switch it over to find something a bit more lively to keep his spirits up, but stopped just inches away when he recognized the song.
It was an older tune, one he heard at a party years ago. It was how he met Alison, the two on either side of the room when the song played. A couple of drinks, some small chatter, and an exchange of phone numbers. It got them to bond.
Then it made him think of Adam.
He didn't seem like an oldies kind of fan, but he wondered if he even heard them growing up. He wasn't familiar with any of the newer songs out there, he started to wonder what Adam listened to, if he would've been interested in any of it. Rock seemed like his rule style.
Was he always a rock fan? What was his homelife like? Did his family care about him, the same way he and Alison cared for Diana, or did they resent him for his ways?
The same way HE cared for him?
Did they even know their son was missing?
Would they ever know he was still locked down there in that disgusting bathroom, holding onto the doctor's last words in hope?
Did he die in ignorant bliss that he'd be saved?
Or did he die cursing Lawrence's name in anger?
He gripped the wheel tightly, trying to push the thought away. He did what he could, he fought for his life to get out of there and find help, it wasn't his fault John dragged him away while unconscious, tending to the wound he gave himself and attaching the prosthetic. He remembered how cold John was, the way he spoke down at him.
So cold.
A cold hand touching his warm face, foreheads pressed together as he tried to comfort and reassure the terrified photographer. Tell him everything would be ok, he'd get them help.
"I wouldn't lie to you."
Lawrence blinked as a car horn blared, eyes wide as high beams shines through his windshield. The doctor sharply turned the wheel, narrowly missing the car coming his way as he steered his way back to his side of the road, gasping in shock as he tried to regain himself. He quickly pulled into the nearby parking lot of a small church, struggling to pry his hands free from the wheel, like they were attached.
His foot is still attached to the pipe, and so's Adam.
Breathe in, breathe out.
"Shit!!!" he screamed, hitting his fist against the wheel once he managed to let go. Lawrence laid his head against it, breath heavy as he trembled with anger. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it as he tried to breathe through the anger. He was the only one who experienced what he did and he was alone in this.
Who the fuck could he talk about this with? His co-workers couldn't possibly understand the trauma he went through, there was no kind of support group he knew of, and he wasn't exactly close to the others.
He couldn't expect Amanda to understand. Mark or Logan, maybe, but none of them were on good terms with each other. Diana was far too young to understand yet, and Alison was gone, she couldn't put up with his mental state anymore. He couldn't blame her for that, who would want to put up with him after all he went through?
Maybe Adam, but…
If he had just stayed awake long enough, crawled out before John reached him, then maybe, just maybe, Adam would be here.
Maybe he'd be wandering the city for a job, find some way to get his mind off everything Maybe he'd find a partner, someone who was willing to put up with his attitude. Hell, he probably wouldn't find anyone who understood him more than Lawrence did. He could see him coming to the house after the divorce, crashing for a few nights to a few weeks.
He'd complain about something so small like his shitty landlord or neighbors demanding he turned his music down at night, which Lawrence would only shrug at. He'd talk about his own work problems in return, Adam making some snarky comment that he would scoff at, unable to hold back a smile.
Or maybe he'd cook dinner for them and grimace at Adam's terrible table manners, only to wonder how long it'd been since he had a decent meal. He could forgive it, especially when it's the only company he's had since the divorce.
Or maybe they'd have a couple of drinks and tell stories, laugh over each other's horrible jokes, including Lawrence's really bad dad jokes that'd make Adam groan in annoyance, or reminisce on that horrible day, thinking how lucky they are to be alive with Adam taking a pack of cigarettes out. Lawrence would tell him off, remind him how bad they are, but all Adam asks for is a lighter and next thing he knows, the cigarette's in his hands.
And they'd just sit in silence.
Sharing a cigarette together.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Lawrence sighed as he lifted his head up, rubbing at the tear starting to slip from the corner of his eye as he leaned towards the passenger's side, shutting the radio off in the process. He pulled his cell phone out, opening the glove compartment as he sifted through the poorly managed collection of takeout menus, something he started when he and Alison both had to work late shifts and knew neither of them felt like cooking when they got home. He found one for a small Chinese restaurant not far from him that was still open at this late hour, gently resting it on the car wheel as he skimmed through it while flipping his phone open. After all that, he definitely didn't feel like cooking, there was no point in making it difficult on himself. As he dialed the number and held the phone to his ear, he gripped the wheel with his other hand, taking a deep breath with the ringing on the other end.
Breathe in, breathe out.
—
Lawrence stepped through the front door, bag hanging off his arm as he kicked the door shut behind him with the prosthetic leg. It was only him living there now, the house feeling empty as it always did. Diana was there last night, but after dropping her off at school, she would've gone to Alison's later that afternoon. Maybe it was a good thing, especially after working so late.
He walked into the dining room where he placed the bag down, leaning his weight on the cane for support as he slowly settled down in the chair. It felt odd not sharing the table with a family anymore, sitting alone at a table that felt justa bit too big for him now. All that extra space for extra plates and loose pieces of paper covered in crayon doodles, depicting a happily married mommy and daddy holding their little girl's hands.
Breathe in, breathe out.
He took a quick glance at the clock on the corner table behind him, the digital face blinking the time in bright green numbers, quickly switching to the next minute. He'd gotten digital clocks for the house and his office since, the ticking just put him back in that horrible place.
Ticking down the seconds, minutes, hours until their demise, unless he shot Adam. He didn't know the consequences until he saw the photo, not understanding how Adam could hide such information at first.
Looking back, he understood now.
Breathe in, breathe out.
He tried to eat a couple of bites, barely picking at the food in front of him as he stared off. His mind felt numb, almost like he wasn't there anymore, staring at the mixed rice that seemed unappetizing now. At least, he felt like he was staring at it.
By the time he turned back towards the clock, within a blink of an eye, yhe time had gone forth by nearly an hour. The food was cold by now, and he wasn't as hungry as he thought. With a huff, he shut the takeout box and grabbed his cane, standing with a grunt as he gathered the leftovers and hobbled his way to the kitchen, finding a space in the fridge to store the tiny box.
They weren't that good reheated, but he wasn't going to let food go to waste so easily like that. 'It'd just have to be tomorrow's dinner,' he thought. He grabbed for the bag on the table, hearing a soft 'clack' on the wooden surface as he turned, spotting a wrapped fortune cookie sitting right in front of his seat, just waiting to be opened by him.
He really didn't feel like eating, yet that curiosity struck him. He never believed in those little fortunes, but he liked to humor Diana with them, which always brought a smile to her face. With a sigh, he picked up the cookie and unwrapped it, cracking it in half as he looked.
No fortune.
How ironic.
Lawrence huffed as he balled up the cookie in the wrapper and tossed it in the trash, making his way upstairs without a second thought. He was quick to enter his bedroom, closing the door a little too hard behind him as it slammed shut, flinching as he stepped towards the dresser, fishing out a pair of pajamas and finally sitting down on the bed's edge.
He placed his cane beside him as he slowly peeled away the layers of his work clothes, dropping them on the floor and putting on the pajamas. When he got his pants off, he stared at the prosthetic leg, hand running over the smooth, plastic surface. It was a bit of an upgrade to the one John gave him, but it still hurt like hell. He'd learn of phantom pain and limb sensation when he was still in school, but he hadn't realized how often he would feel it. The pain
How long had he been crawling down that hallway, looking for a way out as his stump leg bled out behind him.
He couldn't take it anymore, he needed to stop the bleeding.
He found the closest pipe he could, steam billowing from its neighbors before diving his leg against it, hot searing pain shooting through his whole body and spinning his head as he screamed.
Screamed and screamed and screamed until he couldn't take it anymore, waking up in a disgusting cot where he saw John for the first time since the hospital, attaching the new leg in place.
Breathe in, breathe out.
"Shit…" he muttered as he slowly pushed himself up, bending down on his good leg as he reached under the bed. He felt around until his hand touched the top of a cardboard box, pulling it out and placing it on the mattress before pulling himself back up, a strained groan escaping as he got himself back on the bed's edge. He hesitated for a moment, hand balled tightly into a fist as he wondered if this was healthy at all.
Why couldn't he just forget it ever happened and get on with his life?
It's not fair.
None of it was fair.
But if he forgot, who was going to remember Adam?
His hand brushed over the box, mindlessly tracing over the tiny stains and dents that adorned it before he removed the lid, staring down at the pack of cigarettes and the dark blue striped fabric inside. He started with the cigarettes as he took one from the tiny carton and a lighter tucked beneath it, holding his hand close to his face as he lit the cigarette and took a drag before exhaling slowly, smoke billowing away into the moonlit beams peering through his curtain.
He wasn't sure when he started, even when he knew how bad they were for one's health. Coffee only made the stress worse, and anti-depressants only did so much.
He hesitated for just a moment before he reached back in and finally picked the fabric up, staring at Adam's flannel as his eyes lingered on every little detail he could find. Tears in the fabric, shitty stitches, and stains that he didn't dare wash out, he didn't know what was there before or after the "game", but he didn't want to risk losing them. Hell, he was certain washing it would only damage the flimsy shirt.
He brought flannel close to his chest, breathing in the faint cologne he was sure Adam threw on himself to smell nice. There was no hint of that putrid bathroom smell, though he felt he'd gone noseblind to it. They were only in there for a few hours, yet he got used to it all. The sights, the sounds, the smells, it almost felt like he'd known it his whole life.
Maybe he did.
Maybe that was truly the night he felt reborn.
Breathe in, breathe out.
His fingers curled tightly into the fabric, almost afraid some unknown force would snatch it away if he didn't hold on.
Breathe in, breathe out.
All he could smell through the smoke was the lingering cologne he wore.
Breathe in, breathe out.
How different could things have gone, he wondered.
Breathe in, breathe out.
He closed his eyes, hugging the flannel closer as he tried to dream up a new reality, a new way he could've saved him.
—
Adam laid curled up on the bathroom floor, voice hoarse from screaming his head off as he laid still. This was his fate, all alone on a dirty bathroom floor with a REAL rotting corpse beside him, wondering if he was ever going to see the light of day again.
If he was going to see HIM again.
What an idiot he was to trust his word like that, letting him crawl away to save himself. He should've strangled him the moment he was within reach, smashed his head in with the toilet lid like he did Zep, but he didn't. He was a coward. Pathetic, like Jigsaw said.
Nobody was coming for him, he'd accepted that.
He was going to die alone.
Then the door slid open.
"Adam."
That voice, he recognized it.
He couldn't lift his head, unable to look at his savior as the lights flooded the room, making him squeeze his eyes shut with a groan. He felt a hand gingerly touch his shoulder, making him flinch before settling in while another hand touched his back. He tried to figure out if this was real or if it was all just some sick hallucination in some desperate attempt to give him hope, make him think he was gonna make it.
"Adam..!" the voice called out again.
"Larry…" he muttered, barely able to talk over a whisper as he felt one of the hands move to his chain, hearing a faint click as the shackle loosened from his ankle. He couldn't move, he was afraid of ruining the illusion.
That's all this was, some sick hallucination or dream his dying brain conjured up to make the pain stop, he was sure of it. This was the light and he was going towards it.
Adam reached a hand high, fingers curled tightly as he tried to grab for something. He wasn't sure what, he just needed something, anything, to let him know he was finally being taken out of here, some kind of ethereal being.
An angel, maybe.
An angel of mercy.
He felt a hand grab his, squeezing it tightly as he was lifted from his feet, Adam grabbing onto his angel's arm for support. He felt so weak in its strong hold, barely able to walk on his own as his angel practically carried him out, unable to open his eyes as he leaned against him. His angel led him down a long path, a few twists and turns around what he felt were the corners of wherever that damned bathroom lay, hoping it was far behind them by now, and finally feeling the bottom step of a staircase beneath his foot.
This was it.
He couldn't remember anything past going up the stairs, practically convincing himself he finally died and consciousness finally faded before he found himself waking up to a soft beeping at his side. Slow and rhythmic, almost lulling him back into whatever sleep he was in until he recognized the sound.
A heart monitor.
"Adam."
Adam finally cracked his eyes open, his gaze meeting that of his angel's, breath hitched as he stared deep into those baby blues.
"Lawrence..?"
"You're alright," Lawrence reassured, hand on his shoulder as he leaned over the hospital bed. Adam couldn't take his eyes off of him, watching the doctor check the monitor and IV bag at his side, only then noticing the needle stuck in his arm as Lawrence moved a hand down to check it.
Adam placed his own hand over Lawrence's, boney fingers feeling along the doctor's as he felt a lump in his throat, breath suddenly shaky as reality hit him.
This was real.
Adam threw his arms around Lawrence, shaking as he struggled to find his breath again. He couldn't breathe, it felt like he was being suffocated, despite the gentle hold the doctor had on him, like he was comforting a child after a bad nightmare.
"It's ok, I got you," he shushed, rubbing Adam's back as he felt the photographer cling onto him. "Just breathe, Adam. Breathe."
"I-I can't-"
"Shhhh, just breathe in."
He felt Adam sharply breathe in, a little too quick, his dirtied nails digging into his shoulders.
"Now, breathe out."
Adam exhaled, practically shaking as though he'd start crying any minute now. Lawrence breathed with him, the two of them holding each other close until Adam stopped shaking, a small whine coming from him as he sobbed against the doctor's shoulder.
"I got you," Lawrence whispered, running his fingers through Adam's matted hair as the photographer started to settle in his arms. All this time, it suddenly felt right to finally hold each other.
"Just breathe in, breathe out."
—
"-and after that, Kathy upstairs complains about the smell, says she's gonna report me to the landlord," Adam rambles from the sofa, waving a beer bottle in hand as Lawrence chuckles from the kitchen. "I tell her, 'If you're gonna snitch on me for weed I don't have, then expect me to snitch to your book club about passing Mrs. Novikova's cooking as your own.'"
"You're terrible, Adam," Lawrence laughed.
"No, SHE'S terrible, she's the one cheatin' a poor Russian widow out of meals."
"Adam, have you considered she WANTS to make Kathy these meals?" Adam snapped his fingers at the doctor as he took a sip of beer, quickly putting the bottle down as he waved his hand, Lawrence staring at him before sighing in disappointment. "Oh, don't tell me you stalked them for photos.."
"No, I talked to the old lady. I wasn't planning on it, she asked me if I could get some photos in exchange for food, and I wasn't passing up a chance to eat that day."
"So, what'd she say?"
"Kathy said she was very into making 'exotic meals' and wanted to make something for her family."
Lawrence paused, knife hovering over the tomatoes before shaking his head, dicing them up.
"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," he muttered, scraping the cubed tomatoes into the cooking pot on the stove and stirring the spaghetti together.
"Yeah, well, Kathy thinks the old lady's too dumb to catch on, but when I drop off the photos tomorrow, she's gonna regret ever taking advantage of her."
"Adam."
"What?" the photographer whined, throwing his hands up in protest. "I never said I didn't take photos..!! Besides, I'm doing a civil service, protecting old ladies from criminals!"
Lawrence shook his head as he finished stirring, pulling two plates together as he scooped out a couple of spoonfuls on each one.
"Thank you for your service, Adam," he said, grabbing utensils from the drawer as he picked up one plate, his other hand finding the counter for support. "Now, come enact your civil services here and help bring dinner over."
"Finally, I'm starving." Lawrence chuckled as Adam met him in the kitchen, grabbing the two plates and bringing them towards the sofa while the doctor slowly hobbled his way over with his cane gripped tightly in hand. Slowly, he lowered himself with a groan beside the photographer, his free hand finding the sofa's arm as he finally sat down. Adam gave him a look, mouth open as though ready to ask if he was alright before Lawrence nodded to him, a reassurance everything was fine.
Everything is fine.
The two ate in silence for the most part, making little conversation about their day, Adam bringing up the stray cat who started to hang around his apartment balcony before the dinner ended with Lawrence bringing up two new patients that were brought in that night.
Two Jigsaw victims, just like them.
"Are both of them gonna be ok?" Adam asked.
"I don't know, they're not in my department.." Lawrence mumbled. "The older one, I heard he was a medical student, dropped out to take care of his sister and was lying about being a certified doctor to get the drugs she needed. Cut his own tongue out for his 'game'."
"Jesus…" Silence rose between them, leaving tension in the air as they tried to finish eating before putting their plates down in defeat. Adam heaved a sigh, running his hands down his face as his shoulders slumped, Lawrence placing a hand on his back. "Stealing recipes or stealing drugs, does anybody really deserve that?"
Lawrence didn't answer, his eyes casted downwards towards his own leg as he mindlessly ran a hand over it, feeling where his prosthetic was attached.
Breathe in, breathe out.
"Wonder if someone should make a support system or something.." Adam suddenly muttered. Lawrence chuckled softly, looking over with a smile as the man beside him leaned back with an arm slung over the sofa's back. "Maybe not me, I couldn't see myself sitting in a circle, whining about my problems to people. Hard enough to do that to a therapist in private, imagine doing the same thing with a dozen strangers."
"What if I was there?"
Adam sat quietly, taking a moment to ponder before giving a shrug and laughing softly.
"Maybe. Hey, you mind handing me my cigarettes? They're in the right pocket." Lawrence scoffed, shaking his head as he grabbed for Adam's jacket on the sofa arm, digging out a pack and lighter from the pocket. "C'mon, don't get onto me for wanting a smoke, now."
"I've told you once, I've told you a million times, they are bad for your health," Lawrence started, handing the items to the man. You'd think after that bathroom, you'd quit."
"It helps me relax. You got your ways to unwind, I got mine." There was no stopping him, he knew that as he watched Adam hold the cigarette close, lighting the end behind his hand before leaning back on the sofa to take a long drag, blowing the smoke upwards. His eyes lingered on the smoke trail, watching it dissipate lazily beneath the slow spinning fan above them, disappearing into nothing before he caught a glimpse of the cigarette's glow from the corner of his eye. He turned his attention back to Adam, watching him take another drag, the photographer glancing over with a raised brow as he started to smile at him.
"You sure you don't want a hit of this?" he asked, smoke billowing.
"I'm sure.."
"I know that look, doc. You gotta unwind." Lawrence stared at the cigarette, then back at Adam, sighing as he leaned back with a hand out.
Adam took a long drag, placing his own hand over his and pushed it down. He opened his mouth to say something, stopping as the photographer scooted closer to him and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. Heart pounding in his chest, Lawrence froze, warm hand cupped against the side of his face and foreheads rested together, watching him lean in slowly as he pressed his lips to him, the doctor slowly inhaling the cigarette smoke and eyes shutting slowly.
Breathe in…
Breathe out…
A sudden ringing startled Lawrence from his thoughts, making him gasp as the burnt out cigarette fell from his lips, quickly brushing it off the flannel as he tried to catch his breath. He sat still for a moment, listening to his cell phone ring two more times before he dug it out of his pocket with a sigh, staring at the unknown caller id that lit up. Despite no name, he knew who was calling. He's the only one actually crazy enough to call at this late hour. He huffed in annoyance as he flipped it open, holding it up to his ear while rubbing at his eyes.
"Gordon," he mumbled
"Lawrence," Hoffman replied.
"What is it?"
"Amanda's been trying to reach you all evening."
"Well, as I'm sure she understands, I'm a doctor who has to work late sometimes."
"I tried telling her that already, but she'd rather hear it from you." Lawrence would've smiled at that, a long time ago. Amanda never did listen to Mark, they always bickered like siblings. "I'll make this quick, you're needed by the usual address."
"I understand.. I'll be down there in a bit."
"Don't take long." Lawrence listened to the click on the other end of the line, shutting his phone with a snap as he let it slide from his hand and hit the floor. Fingers curled into the flannel once more, shaking as he tried to calm himself down.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
"Oh, Adam… I'm so sorry…"