by Hayley Todd
“For now? Is she not going to make it?” There was Will! He sounded calm, but his voice was strained. He wrapped his big hands around mine. I still barely felt my body parts but I recognized the normalcy of that feeling anywhere. He was warm, which always felt like it was drawing me back from the darkness. Maybe that’s why I felt comfortable when Voice A was there. His skin ran on the verge of hot.
“That depends,” responded Voice C.
“On…?” Will prompted. Will didn’t play games. Whatever sleaziness was going on, he’d see through it in a heartbeat.
“The two of you. You could make a choice and have the potential to bring her back from the brink of abyss, or you could decline, and leave her fate up to...well...fate.”
I didn’t like this. I could feel writhing along my body, a dark sickly feeling beneath my skin. I didn’t...I couldn’t...it...didn’t feel...right…
“Shit! She’s having a seizure. Doc!” Voice C seemed genuinely frightened. It seemed as though for that instance, this were a real concern. And maybe it was. It’s hard to cash in your golden ticket if it gets damaged beyond repair.
Doors slammed open and something on wheels rolled in. There was a sharp pain in my...arm? I could feel the shuddering, uncontrollable shaking in my limbs, in a weird, disjointed way, anyway. It burned. That darkness hurt me in a way I hadn’t been hurt. It tore away at my edges, singing what bare allotment of my consciousness had been allowed to reappear. It hurt to my soul.
“What have you done?” thundered, Voice A. That poor door was slung open again, glass shuddering as it slammed against the wall. With all the vicious door swinging, I was surprised that the thing still had glass.
I had started to piece together what my room looked like. At the foot of my bed was a door. I imagined it to be one of those wooden hospital doors with a little pane of glass in the middle, covered by a curtain. To my left was a chair or couch or bed that was Voice A’s favorite place to sit. He pulled the chair/couch/bed closer to my bed, leaned on the edge of his seat, and grasped my hand in his almost every time he was in the room. I was glad for that. He was so warm. It seemed to help me stay “awake”. I wished I could thank him for that but I was beginning to worry that my muteness and immobility may be a permanent hindrance.
Voice C always sat on my right. There seemed to be multiple places to sit there. Voice B almost always sat there too. There seemed to be some seating close to me, and another set further back. Voice C often sat as far from me as he could get, unless he was alone. Voice B tended to either sit closely, or stand. He never strayed far from me. He always seemed to be prepared for something the rest of us weren’t expecting.
Unfortunately, I still hadn’t managed to piece together their names. No one ever used names! Which was unnervingly frustrating! It was like listening to a radio show where the story was interesting, but the characters had never been properly introduced.
“I did what I was allowed to do,” Voice C responded, calmly.
“Because you know what choice she’ll make if the option is to be alone or be with them!” Voice A roared. That was a kind of fury I had never heard from him. He took a step past where my feet should be, which meant he was likely advancing on Voice C.
“Carson, I simply made them aware.”
Carson! A name! My warm handed hero was named Carson. The name took shape in my head. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed, knight in shining armor on a pedestal in my mind’s eye. Or an angel. Handsome though. Endlessly handsome.
“You backstabbing, weasel,” Voice A--Carson, returned angrily.
“That. Is. Enough.” Voice B boomed from the doorway. Somehow, he managed to move things in the room. I could hear the scraping of furniture being shifted across the floor. “You have stepped over the line, Anton,” he said gruffly. Had I not been so familiar with their voices alone, I don’t think I would’ve caught the undercurrent of absolute fury in that tone.
And Anton! Another name! Wait...Anton? No...it couldn’t be.
Anton/Voice C scoffed, “I stepped on the line if anything. They can help her. They agreed to make the choice. I only enlightened them.”
“You’re a damned coward,” Carson hissed. He walked back towards the door and out, his footsteps retreating to the place that was away from this blasted bed.
“He’s not wrong. And you should know, that if this goes badly, I can’t stop him from coming for you,” Voice B murmured, nearly in a whisper.
I don’t know how, but I could almost sense Anton tense from across the room. Contradicting that feeling, he nonchalantly huffed a breath and responded, “Yeah, yeah.”
Oh, so that was it? Anton was afraid of Carson. But there was some reason that Carson hadn’t done anything about it. And so, the plot thickens…
Chapter Four
“How long has she been...like this?”
Kellic! My inner monologue leapt away from the darkness, suddenly aware of my best friend’s voice. She sounded tired, though normally she was a boundless fountain of energy. The sound was heartbreaking.
“Since the night she went missing,” responded Carson from my left. I moved my focus to where I should feel his warmth but I could feel nothing.
“That was two months ago! She’s been like this for two months?!” Will’s voice exploded from my right where he’d taken up residence. He was obviously shaken which was something I hadn’t really heard from him before. Will was like the sturdy oak, always strong, always reliable. I ached to hear him so distressed. I wanted to reach out, to tell him everything would be okay.
“I would hardly keep her from you had she not been,” Carson replied.
“You still didn't tell us for a week. And we weren't able to see her until now,” Kellic muttered solemnly.
Carson sighed, like this was an explanation he’d had to give a dozen times already. “Only for the best interests in her recovery. As soon as she was stable, we brought you to her.”
“We didn’t know what had happened, Carson,” Will stated. It was a flat statement. I could hear emotion tingeing the admission but it hurt me to even put that pain on Will’s face. “We thought she’d been killed, or sold to the sex trade, or, or,” he trailed off.
“I didn’t know if she’d survive,” Carson lamented.
“And if she hadn’t?” Kellic asked.
Carson stood up. I don’t know how I knew he did, but I could feel it. Almost like his body cast electricity into the air that I could feel when displaced. “I don’t know, dammit! I’m trying! For her. So far, she has survived. I refuse to go down that path.”
The room faded into silence.
After a while, Carson spoke again. “Have you made your choice?” The words hung in the air for several long seconds.
“I have. Will is still...undecided.”
What choice? Why did it seem like everyone in this room spoke in riddles. I guess two months had passed. Two months! How was the club? How was Tyler?! I wasn’t even sure yet if he had survived. There had been a lot of blood. He was a thought I forced back down into myself without assessing.
“When?” was Carson’s only reply.
“That’s why I’m here. Tonight,” Kellic retorted. “I’ll be back in the afternoon tomorrow to try to help.”
“Tomorrow? I mean...I want your help as much as everyone else but isn’t that a bit risky? A bit early? You don’t understand how tempting human blood can be. What makes you think you’ll be ready by then?” Carson exclaimed.
“Damien thinks I can handle it. He sees the benefits as outweighing the risks.”
“And what if you don’t make it, Kel?” Will asked, sullen.
“Is that really where you want to center your focus?” Kellic responded snidely.
His hand was in mine, his warm fingers interlacing mine. They felt perfect. They felt right. They felt like home. I moaned. The warm felt so good. It felt like it drew me from the darkness. It was something to hold on to, something tangible. It felt--
I moaned.
&nb
sp; I heard it! I heard that pathetic gargle of sound! It was the first time I had actually uttered a noise since “waking” up here.
“It’s working!” Carson cried. He leapt up and his hand left mine. My clarity seemed to cloud again, making my struggle to emerge a little more difficult. I hesitantly reached out until my fingers brushed the tips of his. “Damien!” he screamed, lacing his fingers back through mine, somehow understanding what it was that I wanted.
The door burst open. “She’s doing it!” Carson shouted. His joy was elating. I liked this man I’d never talked to, never met. I felt like I knew him deep down in my soul.
“Warm…,” I whispered. The sound was hard, and painful, and didn’t come out in a way I understood. It actually sounded like a sputter of spittle. It felt like knives grinding in my throat. My hand left his for a moment, shooting up to my face, which was entirely too tender to touch. I could feel some sort of apparatus hanging out of my mouth. Panic started to seep through me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t gasp. I couldn’t…
That unbelievably warm hand clutched mine again. “Breathe slowly through your nose. Stay calm,” Carson ordered, his fingers rubbing the back of my hand.
“Get this damn ventilator out!” roared Damien. A cacophony of footsteps thundered through the door.
Someone grabbed the plastic thing and wiggled their arms until it lurched from my throat, bringing the taste of bile up the back of my mouth. I gagged which sent explosions of agony through my abdomen and chest.
“Hey, hey, easy. Stay with me. Focus on me,” Carson urged, his thumb returning to that rhythmic stroking of my knuckles.
Thankfully, my breathing eased until I could manage a long draw of breath through my nose, and force it back out of my mouth. My panicked heart rate returned to normal and the urge to gag eased.
A weight that I hadn’t realized existed lifted from my eyes. And I could see. Thank the Lord! I could see!
The first vision I had stunned me into stillness and silence. This was my moment. I had imagined a hundred times now what my savior may look like, and now he stood beside me, plain as day. He was tall, really tall, at least as tall as Will. He had chestnut brown hair, entirely unlike the blonde I had imagined, and startling green eyes. They were like when you take in the growth of spring for the first time--vivid, and mesmerizing--cleansing away the cold dullness of winter.
“Car-,” I coughed, hard, racking my chest with pain. He leapt forward, placing one hand at my back and helped me move into the cough without hurting myself. He smiled at me and I felt like a hermit who had never seen the sun. His smile filled the room with light. It filled me with light. He was breathtaking. Stunning even. Quite possibly the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on.
“-son,” I finished after sputtering for another moment. “Carson…,”
“Jesus,” he gasped taking me in as though he hadn’t been watching over me for two months now, as though my presence was entirely new to him. He lifted the hand not clutched in a death grip with mine and brushed my hair from my face.
I groaned softly, not wanting him to remove his touch but unable to tolerate it yet.
He hissed a breath and pulled his hand back.
“No...y-you’re...warm…,” I murmured. My eyes drooped, feeling as though the darkness hadn’t relinquished its hold on me yet.
He smiled again, softly this time, gently, and returned to his seat beside me, tightening his grip with one hand and lacing his other hand over our entwined ones.
“You’re awake. You’re finally awake,” he crooned, peering at me.
“Come, let’s see to you, Ms. Santina,” said Voice B, Damien. I swiveled my head--all too quickly if the explosion of pain in my neck was any indicator--and caught sight of a man, maybe in his late thirties, early forties, standing in front of the open doorway. His held his hand out toward Kellic who sat on my other side and was now slowly rising to her feet. She smothered her hand over her face and hurried out of the room, daring only a quick glance at me. In that moment, I could see red liquid dripping from where her hand covered her face.
“She’ll be alright,” Carson cooed, returning my attention to him. The hospital staff gathered the ventilator and its attachments and rushed out of the room, swinging the door shut behind them.
“W-what...happened?” I whispered, struggling to make my voice cooperate after all of this time silent. It felt like I had been a part of everything in the last two months, and yet equally as though I were completely clueless.
Carson’s eyes, those spring green eyes, darkened. “What do you remember?” he murmured in a growl. His gaze was haunted.
“I-I left the club through the alley. I was...f-following someone. I-I was ambushed. I...got the shit kicked out of me.”
He laughed, softly and obviously tried to smother it. “I don’t mean to laugh. That’s just...an understatement.” He sat back, his hand still tightly wrapped around mine but not pulling against me. “I don’t know who lured you out, or what their purpose was, but I found you when that-that...beast was trying to...to…” he trailed off, shoving his fingers through his hair.
“Trying to...rape me?” I supplied hesitantly.
Carson breathed heavily, like he was trying to fight down a fury that he couldn’t contain. I caught his eyes perusing me from my peripheral vision. He obviously wanted to ask, but didn’t want to be the one to broach the topic.
“I...I don’t think he did. He almost did. But then...he was gone,” I blurted in a hushed tone.
Carson breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned his head down, resting his forehead against my knuckles. “Yeah, that. That was me.”
The warmth of his skin against mine gave me momentary pause. It took several seconds for his words to sink in. “Wait, what? What was you?” I asked.
“That pig getting knocked away from you,” he replied. “That was me. If I had been a few seconds later...I...I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself if he would’ve…”
“Raped me?” I whispered, as though saying the words made it real.
He grimaced but nodded. “Or killed you. You were so near death. Entirely too close. It was all entirely too close.”
“I-I don’t...I...Can...Can we take this slow?” I said, stumbling over the words.
His eyes flew wide and he lurched up. “Y-Yes, of course! I didn’t mean to overburden you. Dammit, I’m not doing this right.”
The door behind him opened with a slam, crashing into the wall behind it. The roar slammed into my head, making it throb and I jerked in surprise, my ribs complaining from the harsh movement.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” said Anton. It was the bartender, Anton. My bartender, Anton.
“Y-You! You were...there! You were there that night!” I thrust my pointer finger toward him, lurching forward despite the agony in my torso, feeling uncontrollably furious.
Anton looked taken aback, hurt even.
“Yes, he was, for all the good that it did,” Carson mumbled, returning to his seat.
Anton sighed and moved to sit on my right. “I didn’t realize she had gone missing, for the billionth time. And she had been gone only a few minutes before you arrived anyway.”
“That was almost more than enough, you coward,” Carson snapped. His hand tightened on mine which I now realized, Anton was staring at. He looked down at joined fingers for a solid thirty seconds before his eyes whipped up to Carson’s, furious. “Do not start,” Carson warned. “This is not the time.”
Anton sucked in a deep breath, leapt up from his seat and paced along an outside window I hadn’t yet noticed. It was dark, whether because it was night or because of a blackout screen in the windows, I wasn’t quite sure.
I really looked Anton over for the first time. He was tall, maybe 6’3”, and sported a head of auburn brown hair. He had amber eyes, the color of autumn leaves and flickering fires. They had the appearance of a storm too. They were troubled, lined with anger, and burning with turmoil.<
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Anton turned from the window and stared daggers at Carson. “What does she know?” he hissed, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. He leaned against the wall, tilting his head back.
He was good looking, despite the sharp look in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. He was probably a few years older than me, but he was fit, muscles quite visible through his clothes. His arms looked like they could snap someone in half if he really wanted to.
“Could we not talk about me like I’m not right here,” I asked, softly, my throat still raw. I momentarily forgot I could speak and the words slipped out before I could stop myself, before I could even decide if I wanted to say them.
Two sets of eyes snapped to me. Carson’s softened. He looked almost like he felt bad. Anton’s hardened on me, looking me over with scrutiny. He stood stiffly, like he felt uncomfortable but I found it funny that he could feel discomforted in the current situation. I had only heard him discuss me like a prize for months now in a haze of uncertain consciousness.
“Sorry,” Carson finally apologized for Anton when he didn't make a move to speak. His thumb stroked the back of my hand but he didn’t even seem to notice. It sent a thrill down my spine.
“So,” he began, “you got really banged up that night.”
“How bad was it?” I asked, barely moving. I still seemed to have a significant pain in my torso and made an effort not to exacerbate it.
Carson’s eyes flashed. “That bastard put you through the ringer. He broke six of your ribs, collapsing your rib cage and your right lung. He broke your arm, a full snap of the bone. You had bleeds on your brain, a broken jaw, a cracked skull, and he broke your back. None of that is to even broach the bruises and abrasions. You were almost completely purple and your skin was torn to shreds. The handprints bruised into your thighs…,” he trailed off, taking obvious effort to drag in a heavy breath.
Anton stepped closer, his face thoughtful. His fingertips lightly brushed my leg. “Not as though he can do it again,” he murmured flippantly. He sat down on what turned out to be a blue armchair alongside my bed.