by Leah Holt
I couldn't stop the world from disappearing.
And as I prayed for someone to help me, as I begged the heavens to allow me to stay here on earth, everything just vanished.
There was nothing but black.
Chapter Four
Emery
Am I dead?
Faint crackling filled the void in my head, drawing me back from the darkness and into reality.
My lids shot open as a stabbing pain zipped up my back, curling like sharp talons into my ribs. Gulping for air, I was only able to take in short quick bursts of oxygen.
I can't breathe!
Why can't I breathe?
Coughing hard, I held my ribs and tried to roll onto my side. But I couldn't move.
I wanted to move, I had the urge to jump up and take off running. Wriggling my legs and adjusting my hips, I couldn't break free from the bindings holding me hostage. I felt confined, like I was tied up and bound so I couldn't escape.
What the hell is holding me still? Why can't I move?
Every inch of my body ached, it hurt and throbbed no matter how I moved. My face felt swollen, and all I could taste was iron as I swallowed.
Something's wrong. . . Something is really wrong.
Fuck! Where the hell am I?
Through hazy eyes, I felt around and realized that I wasn't tied up, but was pinned between the ceiling and the seat, hanging upside down with my seat belt keeping me in place. Sitting dazed, I tried to clear the fogginess in my head, and get a grasp on what had happened.
The car crashed.
I'm still inside.
And I'm hurt, I'm definitely hurt.
But I'm alive.
A buzzing noise made its way into my thoughts, drawing my attention back to my surroundings. Lifting my head, I glanced around the inside of the car, and realized that the driver's side door was open, and the man was gone.
Where is he? Did he leave me here to die?
Shifting my head from side to side, it was too dark to see out the windows, so I wasn't sure if he was still nearby, or if he had abandoned me all together.
It doesn't matter, I need to get the hell out of here.
Fiddling with the belt, a strong scent of gasoline swept in, burning my nostrils. Pausing for a second, panic began to set in as I imagined the car bursting into flames with me inside.
Fumbling wildly with the belt, I tried to find the metal clasp that would set me loose. Anxiously, I poked and squeezed the button, using all the strength I could find, and begging it to let go.
Come on. . . Come on!
Just let me go! Open the fuck up!
In one fast motion, the buckle popped free, and I dropped out of the seat onto my back. “Ahh!” Screaming, I bit my lip and painfully rolled onto my stomach.
There was creaking and popping coming from the engine as it gurgled to keep the motor running. The scent of gas kept growing, filling the cabin with toxic air.
I have to get out of here.
Acid tears stung my face as they slipped over raw skin. My chest was on fire, cutting me from the inside as I tried to keep my breathing steady. But I didn't care, I didn't care how much pain I was in, I had to get the hell out of there before it blew me to pieces.
Where can I go? How the fuck do I get out?!
Searching, I saw the rear windshield was broken, allowing plenty of room for me to crawl through. Using my nails, I started to drag myself towards the back of the car, but a fierce stabbing pain sliced through my body, causing me to stop.
Every time I moved my arms it hurt, every attempt to pull or crawl was hindered by such immense pain that I couldn't focus on anything else. I had never felt anything like it.
Am I dying? Is that what's happening to me?
I didn't want to think like that, I didn't want to imagine that this was where it would all end for me. Trapped in a car, slowly bleeding out, punctured and slashed in places I couldn't even see.
Getting out, running away, finding help and safety; it seemed impossible then, an intangible goal that I would never achieve. Hanging my head, the scent of burning rubber mixed with the musty smell of gasoline, and I knew it wouldn't be long before something sparked, and I was blown into the stratosphere.
Swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat, I let my body relax. It didn't matter anymore what was about to happen; I wasn't getting out, not like this.
Closing my eyes, the urge to go to sleep became strong and powerful. No matter how much I tried to keep my eyes open, my lids were so heavy they kept drooping, as if tiny anchors were suspended from my lashes, making the choice for me.
Sleeping could be my saving grace. . .
If I was out cold, then I wouldn't see the flash when the car ignited, I wouldn't feel the few seconds of agony as my body split apart from itself, and coated the ground like fresh fertilizer.
I could die peacefully. I could die dreaming of the life I once had and didn't appreciate.
I could die and not know it.
All the sounds around me started to dull, fading into that void in your brain that appears right as sleep takes over. The buzzing, the cracks and snaps, it was all so quiet as my eyes lowered and unconsciousness was about to steal me away.
The sound of glass shattering pierced the air as strong hands wrapped around my upper arms. In one hard pull, my body broke free from the car, and fresh air filled my aching lungs.
Icy cold grass tickled my legs as I was dragged across the ground, further and further away from the wreckage. The night air was crisp and quiet, the dinging of the ignition morphed into nothing more than crickets chirping in the background.
“Let me look at you.” His voice forced my eyes wide open, and the urge to scramble away fluttered through my head. But there was no strength left in me, no amount of adrenaline was enough do to shit, not right then.
“I'm fine, don't touch me,” I barked, attempting to push myself up. “Ahh!” I yelled out, as excruciating jabs fanned over my body, hitting so deep my bones screamed. Clenching my ribs, my head fell back as I groaned.
“You're not fine, you're hurt.” Hard fingers dug into my shoulders, pushing me back to the ground. “Don't try to sit up yet, you might make it worse.”
I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, the words were there, hanging on by a thread, only I had no power to voice it. The man was right, and I didn't have the energy to argue with him about it.
“Where does it hurt?”
“My chest, my chest hurts a lot.” Gently touching my sides, I applied a little pressure. “I feel like I can't breathe.”
“You might have a broken rib. Take slow even breaths, don't try to force it.” I felt his hands as they roamed my frame, touching and moving my legs and arms delicately. “Does it hurt anywhere else?”
“You expect me to believe you really give a shit?” Sighing, I laid my hands over my face and shut my eyes. “Don't try and act like a fucking nice guy.”
“You know I could have just walked away, but I didn't. You're the one who caused this, you and that little fucking stunt of yours. But, I'm still here, trying to figure out how bad you're hurt—trying to help you.” The weight of his body shifted, causing his shadow to creep in over my face. “So how about we start this again. Does it hurt anywhere else?”
Drawing in air through my nose, I dropped my hands from my face and opened my eyes. He was looking down, serious and stern, with his hands resting on his thighs as he knelt beside me. His eyes flittered in the sockets, jaw crooking to the side as he waited for an answer.
We stared at each other, the silence between us thicker than water, tethering me to the ground like a weighted blanket. I felt compelled to speak, to tell him the truth the same as when we were in that alley.
“It hurts everywhere.”
“Alright, that's better. What hurts the most?”
“My chest.”
“Okay.” Pushing up off the ground, he started to turn and walk away.
“Wait, where are you go
ing?”
“I'll be right back, just try not to move.” Disappearing into the night, I could faintly see his shadow as he ducked back into the car through a broken window.
Laying on my back, I stared up at the sky, trying to do what he said, and breath in slowly. It was hard to do. I wanted to drink down the air, I wanted to feel it feed me its life blood so I could stop the heavy weight that sat on my chest. It felt like I was drowning even though I was above water.
His feet scraped over the grass as he came back to my side, holding a small white box.
“What's that?”
“A first aid kit.” Dropping back to his knees, I heard him open the box and rifle around inside. “Let me know if I hurt you, but you have a pretty bad gash on your forehead, and I need to do something about it.”
Who the fuck is this guy?
I wasn't sure what to think. He had literally killed a man, taken me by force, and I had expected that he was either going to kill me too, or just leave me for dead. Yet, here he was, holding a damn first aid kit, about to dress my wounds like a fucking paramedic.
“This is going to sting,” he said, pouring a clear liquid onto a white gauze pad. Dabbing it across my forehead, my skin began to tingle. “You alright?”
“It's not too bad, my chest hurts more. And I'm fucking tired, I feel like I could pass out right here.”
“No,” he snapped, his eyes opening wide. “You can't sleep, not yet. You probably have a concussion, you hit your head pretty hard.”
Eyeing him, I asked,” How do you know all this? Did you work in a hospital or something?”
“Something like that.” Dropping his eyes back to the box, he pulled out some thin clear strips. “Hold still.” His fingers gripped my skin and pinched the cut closed. Applying four of the strips, he sat back on his heels. “Okay, that should stop the bleeding.”
Touching the cut with the pads of my fingers, I stared at him intently. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” Closing up the kit, he pushed it to the side, and let his eyes connect with mine.
“All of this. You pulled me out of the car, you're taking care of my injuries. Why? Why do this? Why not just leave me here and take off? You could have left me to die, why didn't you?”
Licking his lips, he cupped his knees, allowing his eyes to flirt with the ground. “Maybe you're not meant to die here like this.”
“I don't understand.”
Clenching his jaw, he darted his eyes away and looked up at the sky. He didn't give me an explanation to what he had said, leaving me to wonder where his bad side ended, and his good side began.
How could he decide between one life and another? Why was I worthy of living after almost killing us both, but not that other man?
“Come on, lets try to stand you up.” Slipping a hand under my shoulders, he took my hand with his other one, and guided me up. “Go easy, not too fast.”
“What about my ribs? Can we wrap them or something?”
“No, you don't want to do that. It won't really help, it might actually make it worse.”
I watched him curiously as his face softened and his features changed. My brain was trying to remind me of what he had done, it was screaming at me not to trust him, and to try and get away.
Except, right then, I didn't see the dark man of the night. I saw a man who meant well, who wanted to help instead of hurt. It didn't make sense. It was as if he was two different people, an angel and a demon living in one body.
Was that possible? Was there a way for someone to be both?
How can you take a life and then save one? Who was he, and what the hell was his purpose on this earth?
I have to decide for myself what this man is, if he's good or bad, if he means well or wants to do harm.
In my heart, I believed he didn't really want to hurt me, regardless of what he had done. In my heart, I trusted him. There was no way for me to explain why or how I could feel such things. It was crazy, it was beyond fucking stupid for me to see any good in him, and yet I did.
What is wrong with me?
I can't trust him, why would I even think I could?
Because right now I don't have a choice.
“So, have I earned your name at least? Will you give me that?”
Thinning his lips, his eyes glazed in thought. There was a long pause before he spoke, his hard glare burrowing into mine as his hand tightened around my palm. “Porter, my name's Porter. Now come on, we have a long walk ahead of us.”
Lifting me to my feet, I grunted and groaned as my chest ached and cracked with each move I made. Hunching over, his fingers braided in mine, arm protectively cradling my back, making sure I didn't fall.
“I know you said you don't care, but my name is Emery.”
A loud bang rang out from the car, causing both of us to jerk our heads up. There was a faint flicker of orange under the hood, followed by another giant pop.
Porter took a firm step backwards, tugging me closer to his chest. We both stood stagnant, watching the flames as they traveled across the front of the hood like a bunch of snakes.
In one quick burst, the flames exploded in a giant funnel of fire, blasting pieces of the car into the air. Throwing his arms around my body, he cradled me, using himself to protect me from any falling debris.
As the inferno fizzled into normal flames, Porter lifted himself back up, and we both watched the car, mesmerized by the orange and red tassels dancing against the black backdrop.
The entire vehicle was burning, hot glass was crackling, the seats sizzling and melting into liquid. And as I stared at where I had just been laying, watching the same spot that I had almost gone to sleep in turn to ash, I was grateful for what Porter had done for me.
Looking up at him, his eyes were sparkling, the reflection of the fire bold and strong in his pupils. His skin was glowing, creating hard and soft angles. I was awestruck, finding beauty in the beast beside me.
“Thank you, Porter.” Managing a faint smile, I lifted my hand to his chest and touched him.
That single touch, it sent shivers racing down my spine. Our eyes connected, and I was pretty sure he felt it too. His chest jumped, a small hiccup of movement that brushed my fingertips.
I wasn't sure how truthful he had been with me before when he said he didn't have feelings. Because right then he felt something, what it was, I didn't have a clue. But if he truly felt nothing, then his body wouldn't have reacted the way it did.
Something happened between us at that moment, a connection that could only be made when two people survive together. We shared that, we shared the feeling of new life.
Clearing his throat, he adjusted his arm, moving it lower. “Yeah, well, save your thank yous for someone who deserves it.”
“You don't think you deserve a thank you for saving me?”
“I deserve a lot of things for some of the shit I've done. But a thank you—no, not a chance in hell.” Taking the first step, he guided me forward, walking us around the smoking and mangled car. “Besides, this shit ain't over yet. Don't thank me for saving you when I still don't know what's going to happen, or how this will end.”
“It doesn't matter, you saved me, that means something. Whether you like it or not, I'm grateful for what you did.”
Looking at the wreckage, seeing what we had just lived through, it gave me a sliver of hope. If the heavens had wanted to save me from whatever this man might do, it could have just taken my life right then.
But it didn't.
I was allowed to live. I was allowed to have another day, another sunrise, another chance to keep going. . . We both were, and Porter had been the reason for that.
That had to mean something.
We should have died right there in that crash, and yet we were walking away. . .
Together.
Chapter Five
Emery
“I can't keep going, I need to sit and rest.” Huffing under my breath, my feet slowed as I placed my hand o
n my chest and checked the rate of my heart.
It was beating so fast, working way harder than it should be to keep me going. All I wanted to do was take a short break, my body needed it.
“We don't have time for that,” Porter said, keeping his head facing forward, eyes set on the horizon. “We need to get off the road, it's not safe.”
“Not safe? I figured you're the one I should be afraid of.” Chuckling, I groaned as my lungs expanded a little too far, causing the bones in my chest to shift and pop.
Growling, Porter flashed me an angry frown. “You think you're funny, but you're not. I have enough to worry about, I don't need this shit. I'm not even sure how the hell I'm going to explain having you with me.”
Stopping, I bent over and grabbed my knees, listening to him ramble on and on about a man he hated, who had ruined his life and destroyed everything he touched.
Watching Porter, he seemed to be oblivious of the fact that I wasn't beside him as he continued to walk the moonlit road, mumbling gibberish to himself.
I was trying to make sense of his behavior, trying to understand why he would go back to someone he seemed to despise.
“Then why are you going back?” The night air carried my voice easily as it echoed off surrounding trees. “Why go back to something you hate?”
His body came to a halt, head ticking over his shoulder. The hard angles of his jaw shone under the silver sky, his jet black hair turned dusky blue as strands fell into his eyes.
Porter had this look to him that made my toes curl and my heart beat faster. He looked devious and dark, he looked hard and confident. But his eyes, the way they glossed with fire and smoldered with pain; he was a man with a past.
“I'm not going back to him, but I can't just run away either. I did that already; no more running, never again.” Rocking his jaw back and forth, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Come on, keep walking.” Stiffening his shoulders, his arms hung by his sides as he turned his back to me and started forward.
There was something in what he said, a feeling, a hatred, a subtle hue of meaning that I didn't and might not ever understand. I watched his face as the words took shape, his voice seething, wanting an end to whatever the fuck he had landed in, but not sure how to get there.