AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Here,” I say, helping lower her down onto the passenger seat, careful to protect her head. I buckle her in securely then round the front of the vehicle. By the time I sit down, her eyes are closed.
“Do you feel all right?” I ask as I start my car.
“Tired,” she says quietly.
“How about your stomach?”
“It’s okay,” she promises, keeping her eyes closed.
I reach out to touch the inside of her wrist. I don’t know why I do it. I’m no doctor and don’t know what I’m looking for, but I feel better with her in my hands. I like counting her pulse and knowing she’s okay.
She doesn’t stir as I pull out into traffic and drive home. Her head lolls to the side as I near my place, and I know she’s out cold. I don’t bother waking her up after I park. I undo her seatbelt and carry her inside, aware of every breath she takes.
I head straight for my room and lay her down on my bed. When I’m sure she won’t roll off the side, I grab a t-shirt from my closet and start to undress her. The clothes she wore to the bar reek of alcohol and smoke. I strip her as respectfully as I can, moving and touching her like a parent tending to a child, not a lover seducing a woman. I don’t linger over her body. After I finish tugging off her dress, I throw it out into the hallway. Then I slip one of my t-shirts on over her head.
“Emelia?” I ask, curious to see if she’ll stir.
Ideally, I’d have her drink some water, but she doesn’t move.
I pull a trash can from the bathroom and set it on the floor beside the bed, and then I gently roll her onto her side to ensure she’s safe. I sit on the bed behind her, up against the headboard, and watch her sleep. When she seems too still, I reach out and check her pulse on her neck. Every time, it’s normal. I’m worrying myself over nothing.
If I sleep, it’s in short bursts. Most of my night is spent on watch. A guy back at Saint John’s, someone a few grades above me, asphyxiated on his own vomit after a heavy night of drinking. It was a warning we all made sure to heed, and I do so now, with Emelia.
She stirs a few times but otherwise sleeps heavily until close to ten AM. I’m on my second cup of coffee, working on my laptop in the corner of the room, when she groans and sits up.
I watch her get her bearings. It hurts to see her wince then shield her eyes from the morning light.
“There’s medicine beside the bed.”
My voice makes her jump as if she isn’t sure where she is, who she’s with.
“Water too. Take small sips until you see how your stomach feels.”
“Thanks,” she says, her voice scratchy and weak.
She wastes no time washing down a pill, and then she kicks her legs over the side of the bed, grips the edge, and stays there, hovering.
Her gaze is on the floor. She still hasn’t looked at me.
Her brown hair is messy, her makeup is smeared, her lips are chapped. My t-shirt barely reaches the top of her thighs, her long legs spilling over the side of the mattress. There’s a bruise on her right shin.
“I’m embarrassed,” she says, keeping her focus on the floor.
“Don’t be.”
She hesitates before admitting, “I don’t remember you coming to get me at the bar.”
A flush spreads up her neck.
It takes me a moment to register the emotion constricting my chest as anger.
“It was hard to keep pace with Alexander and his friends,” she continues. “I didn’t realize what I was getting myself into when I agreed to go out with him.”
“I should have warned you.”
Finally, she peers over at me from beneath her lashes.
“Alexander is kind of a partier…”
