Southern Heat

by Natasha Madison

  "You know, in the beginning, you sitting here the whole time was sweet. Now, you are just becoming a pain."

  He’s been sitting here the whole time? Why? I wonder. Why is he still here?

  "Before I start this," the woman says, “I need you to know that she might be in just a touch of pain.” I feel tugging on my chest.

  "Why is her heart speeding up?" The man’s voice is frantic.

  "It’s coming back down,” she says, huffing out. “If you guys ever have children"—she laughs—“I want to sit in the waiting room and watch."

  The pain in my throat goes away and then I feel little touches on my hand.

  I hear the beeping, and the sound comes closer and closer as I move toward the rock. My eyes fly open, but one is still sealed shut. I look around frantically, not sure where I am. My breaths come out almost in pants as I fight off the heaviness of my eyes. The pain hits me right away and knocks the air right out of me.

  I try to get my heart rate down just a bit as I look around the room. Hospital room. The light from outside hits me right away, and I close my eye again. The pain in my head is making me keep it closed just a touch longer as it shoots to my stomach.

  I open my eye slowly as I take in the room. My eyes go from the closed door to the corner of the room that faces the window. The blinds are also closed but the sunlight fights to come in.

  I close my eyes, trying to pick up my hand, but it’s too heavy. I swallow, and the burning makes me close my eyes to catch my breath.

  When my eyes open again, they’re not as heavy as the last time, but my head continues to pound. I look around the room and stop when I see him sitting in the chair. He has his head back, and his eyes are closed. His hands are folded over his chest while his long legs are stretched out in front of him. His hair is lighter than it was in the dark. His black clothes are gone and in their place are blue jeans with a gray T-shirt. My heart speeds up this time, scared that this man is still here. Why is he still here? My fingers start to move up and down with the nerves inside me. I look around, wondering how I could escape. I try to lift my leg just a touch, but nothing moves.

  Was his voice the one I’ve been hearing?

  I lick my dry lips as I fight to keep my eyes open. The heaviness is coming on strong. I close my eyes just to rest them for a second, slowly blinking, but they remain shut.

  I don’t have the energy to open them again, but this time, the darkness comes with a vengeance.

  The beeping from the machines lulls me back to sleep.

  "Did you eat?" I hear a woman’s voice, and my eyes flicker open.

  I want to open my eyes longer, but my body just sinks into the bed, and I drift off.

  "It’s been four days,” he says angrily. “You said twenty-four to forty-eight hours." Four days, I repeat to myself. Have I really been asleep for four days? That is impossible. I must have heard wrong.

  "I said that those hours were critical," another man says. “The swelling in her brain has gone down. That is amazing news. That she is still alive is a miracle. I’ll see you tomorrow."

  I moan, hoping that they hear me. I try to lift my hands, but it feels like I have concrete in them. I’m here, I yell. My voice is screaming in my head.

  The sound of his shoes are moving away from me. "I’m going to need you to open your eyes, please." His voice is close to me. My hand is getting hot from being in his. "Show me those green eyes."

  I force my eyes to open to show him my eyes. I force my eyes to open so I can make sure he’s not waiting for me in a dark corner to pull me out of this bed and drag me back to the place he calls home. Which is my hell, where I spent the past eight years trying to escape. Every single time being sucked back in.

  "I just need to know you’re okay,” he says, and I feel a prickle on my hands. "Anything?" he asks, and I force myself to squeeze his hand.

  "You can’t run from me." I hear the evil voice as I run through the forest, branches hitting me in the face. My legs get heavier and heavier as I run. I look over my shoulder as he chases me. The branches sting as they scrape my legs.

  His hands try to grab me, but I run out of his grasp. "When I get you," he hisses, “I’m going to make sure I finish the job."

  I gasp, opening my eyes, looking around the room frantically to see where I am. My eyes land on the man who carried me out of the cabin. My chest heaves as I catch my breath. “Oh my God,” he says, his hand squeezing mine a little as I try to calm my heartbeat.

  "You’re safe,” he says, his blue eyes darker than I saw them last time. The circles under his eyes look like he hasn’t slept in days. “You’re safe," he repeats. My heart still races, and I look around the room, checking to see who else is here with me.

  I lick my lips, wanting to say something, but my throat is scratchy. “Don’t talk,” he says, getting up and rushing over to the door. I look around, wondering if I can go out by the window. I take in the whole room and make an escape plan. I try to move my legs, and this time, it moves up but immediately crashes back on the bed.

  I close my eyes as my head starts to pound again, then force my eyes open again. “She’s up, I swear,” he says loudly. He comes back into the room with a smile on his face. “See?" He points at me. “I told you."

  "Hi," the nurse says with a big smile, and I look at her. So many questions come to mind. But the main one has nothing to do with her or me.

  “Head.” I start to croak out, licking my lips and then closing my eyes. I lift my hand that doesn’t have a cast on it to my head, touching the white bandage. The pounding makes me close my eyes to try to push it away. "Hurts." I try to wet my tongue.

  "That’s good," the nurse says. She walks over to a table and brings me a Styrofoam white cup with a straw in it. “Take little sips,” she says, and I take a sip.

  The burning down my throat makes me stop for one second. My eyes are on the man who stands at the foot of my bed, watching me like a hawk. I try to sit up, but the pain pushes me back like someone just kicked me in the stomach. "You are going to hurt yourself," the man says, and I hold up my hand as it shakes like a leaf on a tree in a windstorm.

  I put my hand down and take another sip of water. The cool water makes my tongue feel less heavy. I look at the nurse, who just looks at me as I try to tell her with my eyes. "Do you know where you are?" she asks me, and I look at the man in front of me.

  He is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. He almost looks like one of those princes in fairy tales. “Who are you?"

  Chapter 5

  Quinn

  "Who are you?" she asks in a voice that sounds like she has laryngitis. I look at her green eyes, and no matter how many times I pictured her eyes in my head, nothing compares to the sight when she opens them.

  "I’m going to get the doctor," Shirley, the nurse, says. She turns and stops beside me. “You might want to be nice to her." I roll my eyes. “Nicer than you are to everyone else." I put my hands on my hips, but my eyes never leave hers.

  For the past four days, I’ve sat in that fucking chair, making sure her chest moved. I would doze off and hear her calling my name and wake scared to death that she died while I was sleeping.

  "Who are you?" she asks me again as she taps her finger nervously on the bed beside her.

  "Who are you?" I ask her the question that I’ve waited over four days to ask her. The endless questions are killing me every single day I don’t have an answer.

  I’m about to ask her again when Shirley comes back into the room. "Okay," she says a bit too loudly, and the girl in the bed jumps with fear. Shirley’s eyes go to her and then to me. “It’s okay. It’s just me." She holds up her hands. “I’ve paged the doctor."

  The girl in the bed just looks at her, trying to get her breathing under control. "I’m going to take your vitals." Shirley walks over to her, putting the blood pressure machine on her small, frail arm. She puts her stethoscope in her ears. The girl in the bed looks down to see what she’s doing. When she sees, she
looks back up at me for just a second before her eyes roam around the room again to every single corner.

  "It’s a little high,” Shirley says as she unclips the Velcro strap from her arm. “But that is normal."

  The woman just nods at her, and I stand here trying to take her in. Fuck, maybe I have been looking at this in the wrong way. Maybe she’s so jumpy because she’s guilty.

  The door opens again, and this time, it’s the doctor. But the woman just sees a man, and she turns to get out of the bed. My feet work faster than my head, and I catch her right before she hits the floor.

  The arm with the cast grips my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “I got you,” I whisper, my face so close to hers I can feel her breathing all over me. My heart speeds up a touch with her hands on me, and I want to smile at her and tell her that everything is going to be okay. I want to tell her that I’m not going to let anyone hurt her. I want to hold her in my arms and make her feel safe.

  "Oh my God!" Shirley shrieks, making the girl jump even more.

  "I have to get out of here." She looks around as I pick her up and put her back into the bed.

  She winces out in pain as she looks down at my arms as I place her back in the bed. "She’s in pain," I tell the doctor, who just looks on in shock at what happened.

  "I’m fine," she hisses, moving away from me and my touch as if I was poison.

  "Well then," Dr. Benson says, coming closer to her. Her eyes open, and she tries to get out of the bed again.

  I put my hand up to stop him from moving forward. “Back up a second. She’s scared shitless,” I say. My voice comes out louder than I want it to be, and she tries to move away from me again. "I’m not going to hurt you,” I say between clenched teeth.

  Shirley slaps her hands together, getting everyone to look at her. "Okay, one." She looks at me. "Move away from her and go stand over there." She points at the chair I’ve been sitting in for the past four days.

  I slept maybe a total of an hour. My whole body was tense as we waited for this stranger to open her eyes and give us some answers. The nurses tried to get me to leave, tried to get me to just step outside and feel the air, but I stuck to my guns about not moving. There was no way I was going to leave her alone. Imagine if she woke up without anyone here. From the look that she gave me before, she would have hightailed it out of here. "Fine," I say, lifting my hands up so she can see them as I step back from her.

  "I’d ask him to leave,” Shirley says to the woman, “but he won’t listen to that one." Shirley tries to get a smile out of the woman, but nothing comes out. She just looks at her like a bird looking to get away from its captor. "Now this man here …" She looks at the woman. “His name is Dr. Benson, and he’s been taking care of you since you got here." Her eyes go from Shirley to Dr. Benson, who stands there in his white lab coat with his hands in his pockets. His chest pocket is full of pens, and his stethoscope hangs around his neck.

  "I’m Dr. Benson," he says. “Do you know where you are?"

  "Hospital,” she says, her eyes closing and then slowly opening.

  "Your body needs to recuperate," he says. “But that you are even talking is …"

  "Can you cut to the chase and tell her what is wrong with her?” I snap. “Can’t you see she’s tired?"

  "Then I suggest she rest," Dr. Benson says. “I’m going to guess that you will be awake again soon."

  "I,” she says, licking her lips. “He’s …" She fights with everything she has. “Coming.”

  I walk to the bed as her eyes open wide when she sees me, but then shuts again. “He’s not coming,” I say softly. “He can’t hurt you.” Her eyes don’t open again, and I look at the machine, seeing that her heart is beating normally.

  "What the fuck was that?" I look over at Dr. Benson and Shirley.

  "That," Shirley says, “was a woman who woke up confused and traumatized." She shakes her head. “You need to step out of here and let her get comfortable."

  "Not a chance in hell,” I say. “I was the one who held her in my arms while she fought to live. As long as she is here, this is where I’m staying.”

  I swallow and look down, the heat rising to my neck as I say the next words. “Did you guys check to see if …?" My body is one big bundle of nerves, and I’m not moving.

  "She was not," Shirley says. “We checked."

  "This woman," Dr. Benson says. “She was beaten so severely her brain started to bleed," he says softly. “She had three fractured ribs, and it wasn’t the first time they were fractured. So the abuse was ongoing. Not to mention, her spleen had to be removed. Her wrist was snapped, and that doesn’t happen from a fall. Someone purposely snapped it." He shakes his head. “That she can even talk is a miracle. You know that, right?" He looks straight at me. "I don’t know how this all happened, and I can only imagine her story, but what I do know is that you coming in here freaking out is not helping anyone, least of all her."

  I swallow down the lump in my chest. “I would never ever hurt her."

  "Then I suggest you show her that you aren’t going to blow up every ten seconds,” Shirley says. "Hopefully, she wakes up again soon." She turns and walks out of the room with Dr. Benson following her.

  I sit in the chair and look at her. I take my phone out this time and dial my father.

  "Hey," he answers right away.

  "Hi," I say softly, getting up and walking away from her. Going to the door, I step outside into the hallway. I stand in front of the window that looks inside her room. "She woke up."

  "And?" he asks, and I close my eyes.

  "Nothing. She was so fucking scared she tried to get off the bed," I say, looking at the woman sleeping. The woman who was awake for ten minutes maybe fifteen, yet I couldn’t get her fucking name.

  "Jesus," my father hisses, and I close my eyes and hang my head low. "Did she say anything?"

  I huff out. “The only thing she asked is who I was."

  "Did she tell you who she was?" my father asks anxiously.

  "No," I answer, defeated. “Dad," I say, almost pleading. “Please tell me you have something."

  "Son,” he says, his voice going low, “I wish I could."

  "What the fuck is going on?" I hiss, my patience gone. “How the fuck do you have all those people there, yet no one can find out who this woman is?"

  "I am not your enemy,” he says. “We are on the same team." I pinch the bridge of my nose.

  "How is it that with all of our people, we can’t find out who this woman is?" I ask.

  "That is the question that we are asking ourselves,” he huffs out. “I’ve been in this office for the last four days,” he says, “following a paper trail that keeps leading us to a dead end. You pick up one rock, and another ten get thrown at me." I shake my head. “We have guys going to interview everyone that has lived next to them, and everyone is saying only two people lived there."

  "Someone has to know who this woman is,” I say. “She’s been with him for long enough that someone would have seen her."

  "How do you know she was with him a long time?" my father asks, and my stomach burns when I think about what Dr. Benson said.

  "She had fractured ribs,” I say, and he knows I’m not done. “It wasn’t the first time."

  He hisses. “Motherfucker."

  "Good news,” I say. “It doesn’t look like she was …" I look around the room. The nurses’ station is empty, and the whiteboard in back has been written on. I listen to the sound of the machines coming from the other rooms. “Bring me a computer."

  "For?" he asks me.

  "I’ll see if I can find something. I’m here doing nothing, so I might as well keep busy,” I say.

  "I didn’t even think you knew what a computer did,” he says.

  "Just because I don’t sit at the desk doesn’t mean I don’t watch,” I say, smiling. “I’m my father’s son in more ways than one."

  "I tell you what you don’t get from your father,” he says, and I can just picture
him with a smile on his face.

  "Yeah, and what’s that?" I put my head back, waiting for him to say something.

  "Your patience,” he says. “Or the lack of patience." I hear him tap on the desk. “You get that from your mother." I laugh. “But seriously, Quinn"—his voice goes low—“you need to know everyone has the same goal in mind, and that is to find out who this woman is." He doesn’t say anything more to me. “I’ll drop off a computer on my way home."

  "Thanks, Dad,” I say and hang up the phone. I walk back into the room as the sun from outside starts to set.

  Walking over to the chair, I sit down next to her bed. I watch her chest rise and fall.

  Her face is so pale, her cheekbones sticking out just a touch. I take her hand in mine and notice that it’s warmer than it was before. I sit here waiting for her to open her eyes. I have so many more questions than I had before. Questions only she has the answers to. But the biggest one has to be her identity. “Who are you?" I ask her quietly.

  Chapter 6

  Willow

  "Who are you?" I hear him ask me again, but this time, I can’t open my eyes.

  I feel his hand on mine, and I look around the darkness to see if I can see his eyes again. The way he watched me without saying anything. The nervous way he ran to catch me. His warm arms made heat run right through my body. I had this sudden feeling he would make sure I was safe. I clung to him, my nails digging into his arm, and he didn’t even bat an eye. He just gently put me back on the bed as his eyes looked right into my soul.

  The nurse made him go stand away from me, and I saw that he wanted to argue with her, but he went and stood aside. His eyes never leaving me.

  The pain in my head comes on so strong that I moan. I slowly open my eyes once and try to look around, but my eyes fall closed again. I put my head back on the pillow, and the pain hits again. I flick my eyes open again and look straight at the yellow wall. The room is a lot darker than it was the last time. I turn to look out the window, but the shades are closed with no sun trying to peek in. "Hey," I hear the man say and close my eyes again as I try to get the heaviness out of them. I move my hand into a fist to try to keep myself up.