72 Hours

by Bella Jewel

  I swallow and nod, shock slowly starting to creep into my body.

  “We need to get out of here,” he says, tugging my hand.

  I put one foot in front of the other, and I walk. I walk until we find a quiet road. By the time we stumble out onto it, I’m numb. From head to toe, I can’t feel anything. I feel as though I’m existing without actually being aware. Shock. Reality. Horror. All of it has finally set in. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve spent so long living in fear. When it’s gone, you just have nothing left.

  Noah is clutching my hand like he has been for the past two hours, but neither of us has spoken a single word. The horror of the last week is replaying in our minds, over and over, tormenting us, torturing us, reminding us that while we escaped the monster … will we ever escape the nightmare? Will killing him torture me? Right now I feel nothing, but will it always be that way?

  Car lights flash in our direction, snapping us out of our daze, and we turn to face them. For a moment, I don’t think whoever is driving is willing to stop for us. I can only imagine how we look. Half naked, injured, bloodied, and feral. The vehicle slows, though, and eventually pulls off to the side of the road. My knees start wobbling and for a second I’m not sure I can even take the few steps toward the car.

  An older man gets out, his wife shuffling out the other side. I worry they’ll get a closer look at us and run, but they don’t. The older man squints, and then his mouth drops open. “It’s … Maggie, it’s them.”

  Them.

  We have a title?

  “Oh my good Lord,” Maggie gasps, rushing over and putting her hands on my shoulders without hesitation. She doesn’t care that I’m bloodied or half naked. “It’s them. They’re alive. Peter, get the blanket from the trunk. Hurry. They’re freezing.”

  “Y-y-y-you know who we are?” I croak.

  Is that my voice? It doesn’t sound like my voice.

  “Of course, dear. Your face has been all over the news for a week.”

  It has?

  Then why didn’t anyone find us?

  I chastise myself for such an awful thought. I don’t even know where we are. I don’t know how far away from Orlando we are. How was anyone supposed to know where we were? I squeeze Noah’s hand, but he doesn’t squeeze back. Is he too far gone? Am I too far gone? Will we ever recover from this?

  “Lara, right?” Maggie asks as Peter gets the blanket from the trunk.

  “Yes,” I croak.

  She looks to Noah. “And Noah.”

  He nods. No words.

  “I’m not going to ask what happened to you both, because it’s none of my business, I’m just going to get you to a hospital. Come, climb into the car and I’ll pass the blanket in. You must be freezing.”

  I wouldn’t know if I’m cold anymore; truthfully, it’s hard to tell what I feel. My body has gone beyond pain, beyond feeling. It’s just dead. Numb. Broken.

  Noah jerks me toward the car and we slide in. The warmth from the heater tickles my face, and I close my eyes. I didn’t realize just how cold I was until this very second. Noah climbs in beside me and Maggie leans in, handing us a blanket. I take it, running my fingers over the soft edges. I would have never noticed how it felt against my skin before; now it’s all I can think about.

  I bring it up to my chin, and I start shivering, even though I’m warm.

  Noah does the same.

  Maggie and Peter get into the car, and she orders him to drive to the nearest hospital.

  “H-h-h-how far away from Orlando are we?” I ask, my voice hoarse.

  “Just over an hour, dear.”

  An hour? One measly hour?

  I close my eyes. Noah has let go of my hand and I want it back, I want him to hang on to me and never let me go, but he’s shutting down and I don’t blame him. We’ve lived through hell, and the entire time we were in it, we were fighting to get out. Now that we’re out, nothing feels okay. There seems to be little relief, little comfort, little of anything.

  We’re free, alive, and safe.

  But it doesn’t feel okay.

  Maggie asks us basic questions as we drive, but only I answer. Noah stays silent. Eventually the entire car falls silent and we all just sit there. I can smell us, and I only realized now that we have a strong scent coming from our bodies. Blood, sweat, days without hygiene, and death. So much death. I close my eyes and take a shaky breath. I’m not ready for this. I have to be, but I’m not.

  The questions.

  The panicked family members.

  The normal life.

  The car slows and I realize we’re already at the hospital. I didn’t notice any lights; I didn’t even hear the cars around us. Somehow, I blanked out all of it. I was so far gone in my own little world I didn’t even realize we’d come back to civilization. Panic grips me as I peer out the window to where Maggie is calling for a nurse, waving her arms around. One comes out and listens as she rambles quickly.

  About us, obviously.

  The nurse nods and rushes back inside, coming out with two wheelchairs. Here goes the silence; in seconds it’s going to rush out the door and we’re going to be bombarded with questions and concerns and needles and doctors. I take another shaky breath and look to Noah. He’s staring straight ahead. My heart aches for him. I don’t get to say anything because the door is flung open and a young, blond nurse peeks inside the car.

  She takes one look at us and her eyes go wide. “Oh my.”

  That about sums it up.

  “My name is Jill. I’m going to help you out of the car, okay? Can you tell me if anything is broken?”

  I shake my head.

  “And him?”

  I shake my head again.

  “Okay, very carefully hop out for me. Lara, is it?”

  Does she watch the news, too?

  I climb out of the car, ignoring her question. She takes hold of my arm, directing me into a wheelchair. It’s cold against my legs, but another nurse quickly rushes forward and hands me a warm blanket. I raise it back up to my chin and keep it there, watching as Noah climbs out. He gets the same treatment. Then we’re being wheeled inside.

  I look over my shoulder and smile at Maggie.

  She sobs.

  I don’t know why.

  TWENTY-NINE

  I wake to the sounds of frantic voices.

  Nurses are calling out to one another, and the sound of male cries can be heard echoing through the halls. Familiar male cries. I sit up, rubbing my eyes and pushing myself from the bed. Noah and I have been in here overnight but I’ve yet to see him. When we arrived we were whisked away for assessing and questioning. I’ve been worried about him ever since. My feet hit the cold ground, and for a few seconds I wobble about. The nurse took my drip out today; I’m now hydrated, so I don’t have to drag that horrible thing around with me anymore.

  “Please, sir, calm down!” I hear a nurse cry.

  “Get the fuck away from me.”

  Noah.

  That’s Noah.

  My heart pounds and I rush to the door.

  “If you don’t calm down we’ll have to detain you.”

  “Get off me!”

  I pick up the pace, running down the hall on weak legs toward the pained, broken voice of my love. I reach the room where nurses are rushing in and out, and I step in.

  “Lara, you can’t be here, it’s dangerous,” a young nurse says, taking my arm.

  I glare at her. “You know nothing about what he’s going through. Let me in there.”

  “I can’t do that—” she begins, but I jerk my arm back so hard she stumbles.

  I take the window of opportunity and run into the room. Two male doctors or nurses, I don’t know which, are holding Noah’s arms. One is coming over to jab a needle in his neck.

  “Stop!” I cry, running over.

  “Miss, you need to leave,” the doctor yells.

  “No. Stop. He’s just afraid. You’re making it worse.”

  Noah throws his
head back and bellows, sweat trickling down his face. He needs me. I wasn’t there for him when he needed me last, but I am now and I won’t give up on him.

  “Let him go,” I say to the two men holding him.

  “Can someone get her out,” one yells.

  I ignore them, climbing onto the end of Noah’s bed. His legs are jerking, but my weight holds them down.

  “Miss, get off the bed!”

  I crawl up and when I reach his face, I cup it in my hands. “Noah, stop.”

  He keeps thrashing.

  “Get someone in here to move her!” the doctor orders. “Now!”

  “Noah, please,” I say.

  He keeps bellowing.

  I lean in closer, risking a solid head butt. I bring my mouth to his ear, my legs straddling his hips. “Noah. Calm down,” I say softly into his ear. “It’s me. Lara. I’m here. You’re okay. I’m here with you. You’re safe now.”

  His body jerks, but he stops thrashing.

  “It’s all over,” I continue. “It’s okay. It’s finished. We’re safe. I’m here. I won’t leave you. I promise you I’ll never leave you again.”

  His sweat runs down his face, but he’s stopped thrashing. The two men slowly let him go, and the doctor waves a hand to make sure they don’t go far. Noah jerks in my grip. Then his big arms close around me, consuming me, keeping me safe. I sob, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck. He starts shaking. Finally breaking. He’s been a pillar of strength, so strong, so determined, and now it’s all finally crumbling.

  “Leave them be,” the doctor orders. “Nurse, stay by the door.”

  The room clears. Noah hangs on to me so tightly I can hardly breathe, but I say nothing. We just sit there, both of us crying, me loudly, him silently. After about an hour, his arms finally relax and he says in a thick, emotional tone, “I can’t close my eyes and not see you lying there bleeding.”

  My heart breaks.

  “I know,” I whisper.

  “The dreams are so real. I think I’m back there, that we’re still trapped and fighting. In them, he always kills you right in front of me. It’s so fucking real, Lara.”

  “I know, honey.”

  “Then I wake up and I realize it’s over, but I don’t feel any better.”

  “I think it’s going to take some time for us to feel better.”

  “I don’t know what happened just now, it was like I couldn’t rise from the dream. They just wanted to hold me down and the more they did, the more frantic I got. Then I heard your voice…”

  I lean back and meet his bloodshot eyes. He looks awful. Worn out. I probably look the same. “I’m here, Noah. I let you down in that forest. I let a moment of weakness beat me, but you can be assured it’ll never happen again. I’m never going to leave you. Never. We’re going to get through this together.”

  “They want us to go back,” he croaks.

  “I know.”

  “I can’t…”

  I nod. “I know.”

  “It’s all over the news.”

  I sigh and press my cheek to his chest. “Yeah, Rachel told me. Apparently a nurse from here talked.”

  “Of course.”

  “What are we going to do, Noah? How is this ever going to feel okay again?”

  He wraps his big arms around me and falls silent a moment. “I don’t know.”

  “Me either.”

  “All I know is the time without you was hell. I need you here with me, Lara. I can’t do this without you.”

  “If that’s where you need me, that’s where I’ll be.”

  “And when we leave?” he asks. I stiffen in his arms.

  I hadn’t thought of that. We’re not going to be in this hospital forever. We both have apartments and jobs—and the very idea of going back to those alone terrifies me. What the hell are we going to do? A week ago we were nothing, now we’re something, but how much of a something are we? Are we going somewhere with this or are we taking it slow …

  I decide to go with honesty and see where that ends up for me. “I don’t know how I can go home alone.”

  He exhales shakily. “Neither do I.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “I want you to come home with me. My apartment is close to yours, we can go back and forth when we need to, but I want you with me, Lara. I can’t stand the thought of being without you again.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  “I’ve got you in this, please know that. Nobody will ever touch you again.”

  “I know that,” I whisper.

  “Stay with me?”

  “Always, Noah.”

  He had my back when my nan died; now it’s my turn to have his. And I will, for as long as we’re both breathing, I’ll do everything I can to protect him as staunchly as he protected me.

  Always.

  THIRTY

  “Can you tell us what it was like out there?”

  “How did you get out?”

  “How did you survive?”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “What did he do to you?”

  Reporters, flashes from cameras, people everywhere. I’m stiff, feet planted firmly on the ground, refusing to move forward. Noah tugs my arm, using the other hand to push through the crowds of reporters waiting for us outside the hospital as we leave. It’s been a week. In that time, we’ve had our wounds treated, we’ve been interviewed by the police countless times, and Noah and I were able to visit each other in our rooms. We both decided to stay together at his apartment once we got out. Neither of us could stand the thought of being without each other again.

  Now we hold hands and face the hordes of reporters clamoring for details. They’ve no doubt been waiting for us to come out so they can get the answers to their questions.

  “No comment,” Noah growls, shoving through them until we reach the car waiting for us.

  My dad gets out, opening the door and helping me into the vehicle. Noah jumps in the front and then we’re off. My heart is pounding and I drop my head into my hands and try to steady out my breathing.

  “That’s going to happen for a while,” Dad says. “Are you two okay with all the fuss?”

  “Yeah,” Noah mutters. “Lara, are you okay?”

  I don’t lift my head from my hands.

  “Lara, honey?”

  I look up, tears running down my cheeks. Noah doesn’t hesitate: He unbuckles and climbs into the back. His arms go around me and he pulls me tight as I sob. I hate it. I hate all of this.

  “It won’t be like this forever.”

  “They’re vultures,” I sob. “They don’t care about what we went through at all.”

  “No, they don’t. They just want a story.”

  “We’ll keep you safe,” Dad says from the front. “I promise.”

  I nestle into Noah’s chest the entire ride to his apartment. It’s quiet when we arrive, thank God. We climb out of the car and Mom and Rachel come rushing out, smiling and opening their arms for us. I rush forward and throw myself in, relishing in the comfort they’re bringing.

  “The apartment is cleaned, stocked, and ready to go. You don’t need to leave for weeks if you don’t want to.” Rachel smiles, stepping back. She’s been a godsend this past week. Visiting me at the hospital every day and bringing me anything I needed.

  “I’ve even put four apple pies in the freezer,” Mom adds with a smile.

  “Thank you both so much,” I whisper, running a hand through my hair and looking up at the two-story apartment.

  “It’s very much appreciated,” Noah says. “But would you mind if we did this part alone?”

  “Of course!” Mom says, hugging him tight. “Of course.”

  “Call us if you need anything,” Rachel says, hugging me again. She smiles at Noah and he nods to her.

  Then they’re gone.

  We stand at the front door, silently.

  “Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” I whisper.


  Noah reaches out and takes my hand. We step inside.

  The apartment smells of freshly cooked pies and feels far homier than I would have thought. I look around. Since Noah and I both left our old apartment after we split, I haven’t seen his new place, but it’s nice. Modern, spacious, and filled with very masculine furniture. I walk into the large black-and-white-decorated kitchen and open the fridge. It’s full to the brim with premade meals and food.

  I smile.

  Bless them.

  “Are you tired?” Noah asks, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

  “Yeah,” I say softly. “So damned tired.”

  “It’s been hard sleeping, huh?” he says, nuzzling my neck softly.

  “I know it’s over, I’m so glad, but it’s still really hard to close my eyes and not wait for that sound.”

  “It’ll go away, eventually. At least we’re out of that damned hospital.”

  “I think that’s the worst part about escape, you know?”

  He looks down at me, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “What’s that?”

  “When you escape, you kind of just want time alone to recover. But people, they want answers. They’re everywhere. Doctors. Police. Then there are the hospitals.”

  “I hear what you’re saying,” he murmurs. “But we’re here now, and not there.”

  “And we have each other,” I point out softly, reaching up and stroking his jaw.

  “So what do you say we go get some sleep, together?”

  My heart flutters. “I would love that.”

  He takes my hand and leads me into his bedroom. I stare at the familiar bed and my heart warms. We both strip down, removing our clothes. Then we climb into the bed and curl into each other. This is the only way we feel okay at the moment; for some reason, it brings us comfort. Probably because the only time we felt safe in that horrible place was when we were in each other’s arms.

  “I love you, Lara,” Noah whispers against the back of my neck.

  “I love you, too.”

  And for the first time in weeks, I fall asleep thinking maybe, just maybe, things might be okay.