Chapter 21

Noah

Where am I?

My head is throbbing in agony with every beat of my heart as it pumps the blood through my veins. A groggy haze clouds my brain, my thoughts are scattered, like pieces of a puzzle spread throughout a dark room. Slowly, sensations start to trickle in, like a dull throbbing in my limbs. I curl my fingers into a loose fist, feeling the strain of unused muscles protesting the movement. When I try to move, a sharp, suffocating pain shoots through my entire body from head to toe, like a thousand needles piercing my flesh. Every muscle screams in agony, every bone feels shattered. Slowly but surely, the buzzing mixture of pain and dizziness begins to calm. The dark fog clouding my brain dissolves, clearing the way for a coherent thought.

I'm not dead.

My chest tightens, my heartbeat quickens, and my adrenaline rises. I still have a chance. I try to move again, gritting my teeth and stifling a groan as I prop my elbows against the soft surface beneath me that gives in to my weight. Stretching my fingers, I feel the cool, soft sheets beneath my fingertips. Wait. I'm no longer lying on a concrete floor. I'm no longer tied to a chair. I'm in a bed .

I open my eyes, but all that's there is darkness. As I concentrate on my surroundings, I notice the smell for the first time. It's not the wet, moldy concrete mixed with the stench of my fluids. No, the soothing aroma of lavender and a hint of extinguished firewood fills my lungs. It smells just like our bedroom on a cozy autumn night when we light a fire and watch one of her sappy movies. Is my brain playing tricks on me?

I have to go home.

I have to see Evelyn.

With another groan, I fight through the pain, place my hands flat on the mattress and push myself up. Once I'm in a sitting position, I feel for the edge of the bed and when I find it, I shift over. But before I can get up, a light flickers on behind me, illuminating the dark room. "Noah!" I freeze at the soft but muffled voice of my Dove.

I turn my attention to the light behind me and a blurry figure moves in my direction, reaching for me. A warm hand lands on my forehead, pushing my hair out of my face.

"Dove?" I hardly manage to say her name before the dryness in my throat triggers a cough.

"Yes, it's me, you're home," she says and cups my cheeks in her hands, gently running her thumb over and scratching the stubbles of my beard. Raising my own hands, I cup her face with my palms and trace her smooth skin, following the contours of her face, and like muscle memory, I recognize the way my finger moves over the curve of her cheek to her eyes and forehead. It's really my Dove. Forcing myself to focus, my vision clears; it's not perfect, but I can make out some details of her facial features, like her beautiful brown eyes and full lips.

She tilts her head into my touch and a second later, warm little droplets run down my fingers, followed by her soft sniffle. "I'm sorry Dove…" I manage to say with a trembling voice.

"You fucking idiot!" she yells between sobs. Throwing her arms around my shoulders, her body slams into mine, knocking me off balance and forcing me back into the soft padding of our bed. A painful groan pushes the air out of my lungs as she lands on top of me.

I wrap my arms around her, placing one hand on her back and the other on the back of her head as she cries into my chest.

"I told you it wasn't safe!" she chokes out, her tears soaking into the fabric of my shirt .

"I know. I fucked up," I admit, holding her close. My chest tightens as another dry cough forces its way out of my throat.

"Yes, you did!" Her fist slams into my chest, drawing a gasp from me that sends me into yet another coughing fit. Immediately, she pulls back, propping herself up on her hands and watches me through teary eyes as I struggle to regain my composure.

"How are you feeling?" She kneels down beside me, dabbing at her tears with the sleeve of her robe.

"Like shit…everything hurts, especially my head." I close my eyes as she puts her hand on my forehead. Her touch, soothing against my heated skin.

"Do you want me to give you more pain meds?"

I open my eyes again, look at her and nod slowly. Immediately she turns away from me and scoots over to her side of the bed to grab something from her nightstand. A rush of panic swells in my chest, my pulse quickening, and instinctively I reach for her nightgown, clutching at the smooth fabric. "Please don't leave me," I whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere," she says, turning around and crawling over to me. Then she sits down and takes the small auto-injector out of its plastic wrapper .

"What's that?" I ask, watching as she takes off the cap and pushes my shirt up high enough to expose my stomach.

"Premeasured doses of morphine." She places the injector against my skin. "It may pinch a little," she says and presses the back of the small stick, and while I hear the click of the needle popping, I don't feel it piercing my skin as the pain dominates every single nerve in my system.

After wiping my stomach and putting a small Band-Aid over the puncture hole, Evelyn settles back into bed next to me and lays her hand on my chest. I sigh and close my eyes, taking deep breaths as I wait for the morphine to work its way into my system and ease the searing pain.

"What happened to me?" I ask, opening my eyes and tilting my head toward her beside me, where she lies with her head resting on her arm, watching me.

"You don't remember?" she asks and I shake my head.

"No, just that we had been ambushed and a few blurry bits and pieces."

Her hand travels from my chest to my face, cupping my chin in her hands, running her thumb over the soft stubbles of my beard.

"They tortured you." She lets go of my chin and runs her hand up my face, gently touching the bandage that covers half of it. "They took your eye and your ear." Her hand leaves my face, down to my shoulder, tracing my arm to my left hand, her small fingers wrapping around my wrist and lifting it up. "They smashed some of your fingers, but the doctor was able to save them." My sight lands on my hand, where my pinky and ring fingers are secured in a splint. Letting her words sink in, I turn my attention to the ceiling lamp above our bed. "That's all they visibly did to you, but from the state you were in when we found you, they must have done worse," she says, releasing my hand.

I remain silent as my mind goes into overdrive, trying to access my memories, but all I find is darkness, haunted by horrific screams and unspeakable pain. There are only blurry images flashing back and forth, but never a clear scene. I tilt my head in her direction as she shifts and scoots back a little. "Is there anything I can do for you right now?"

"I'd do anything for a cup of coffee and a cigarette," I say and her eyebrows shoot up. "I know, no smoking in the bedroom." A quiet chuckle rises from my chest.

"No." She sighs and pushes herself up. "I think under the given circumstances I can make an exception," she says with a smile. "Will you be okay without me for a few minutes while I fetch you a coffee?"

"I have to. "

She climbs out of bed, tightening the belt of her robe around her waist. "I'll leave the bedroom door open. Call for me if anything's wrong."

"Sure thing." I nod.

The moment she leaves the bedroom, an eerie silence falls over me. My pulse quickens, the drumming in my chest growing louder, buzzing in my ears as panic wells up inside. I close my eye and focus on my breathing, trying to stay calm as I listen to the whistle of each shaky breath, struggling to pull air into my lungs.

It only takes a few minutes, which still felt like an eternity to me, for Evelyn to walk back in with a cup of coffee and a plate of various little snacks. With her help I push myself up into a sitting position, lean against the headboard and take the coffee from her. She fishes for a new pack of cigarettes and a plastic lighter in the pocket of her robe before climbing back into bed with me.

The first sip of coffee is like salvation. It moistens my dry throat. The warm liquid sending a soothing rush through my limbs, relaxing my tense muscles, while the caffeine enters my system, heightening my senses. Sitting next to me, Evelyn is already pulling a cigarette out of the pack and offers it to me.

"Thank you." I set my cup down on my nightstand and bring the cigarette to my lips while she holds the lighter for me and I inhale deeply, lighting the tiny stick. My lungs expand as the rush of nicotine fills my chest, and the soothing sensation I haven't felt in weeks drapes over me like a comforting blanket.

Evelyn holds the ashtray for me and we both remain silent while I smoke my cigarette and drink my coffee. Every now and then, her free hand moves up to my head, brushing through my hair or running her thumb across my stubbled cheek. "Do you like the beard?" I raise my eyebrows to which she responds with a chuckle and a shake of her head.

"I prefer you clean-shaven, but this is new, this is different."

"Would you still kiss me with a beard?"

"Of course, you idiot." She rolls her eyes in amusement. "I even kiss you with morning breath." She leans over to plant a soft kiss on my lips.

"Thank you for bringing me home," I whisper against her lips.

"Always."

The early rays of the rising warm winter sun filter through the lattice windows, illuminating the bedroom in a soft, warm and soothing glow. We've been awake since I woke up around four a.m., unable to go back to sleep. Every time I close my eyes and try to sleep, a wave of darkness swallows me, pulls me back into the depths of hell, and makes it seem that this is all just a dream, an illusion, and that I will wake up back in that concrete hole.

I finished the plate of snacks Evelyn got me and had two more cups of coffee, which my stomach isn't very thrilled about, but it's worth every painful cramp. Now I'm lying between her legs, hugging one of her thighs while she sits up against the headboard, combing through my hair at a comforting pace. The TV is on, running in the background, playing some sitcom that neither of us cares about. It's only on to create a constant noise to keep the silence from swallowing me alive.

A knock on our bedroom door startles me and I lift my head from her lap. "Come in," Evelyn calls and I watch as the door swings open and Kyle walks in.

"Good mor—you're awake!" Kyle exclaims, rushing over to the bedside.

"What are you doing here, you bastard?" I groan as I brace my hands against the mattress and push myself up .

"I've been helping your dear Evelyn take care of you. You should be grateful," he teases.

"How are you alive?" I glare up at him.

"I managed to escape," he says in a cocky voice.

I growl in annoyance. "Good, that means I can kill you." Evelyn's hands land on my shoulders as I try to push myself further.

"I want to see you try in this condition." Kyle's lips curl into a grin, knowing he has hit the nerve he was aiming for.

"I'll show you." I grit my teeth, pushing through the pain until I'm on my knees and start to climb out of bed.

The atmosphere in the room shifts immediately, the teasing gone and replaced by panic as both Evelyn and Kyle's hands land on my arms and shoulders. "Wait, wait, I was just kidding," Kyle says.

I tilt my head and shoot him a glare. "You better watch your mouth."