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Chapter Four
All I could think about was the accident— the one 12 years ago that seemed to change everything. I could remember the way all sound gave out while I laid on the ground, looking up to the sun above us. Back then, I was certain I heard my father’s voice, that I felt his warmth cradling me until the paramedics got there. When I awoke again, I wondered if it was his warmth that pressed against my chest. I thought I could hear his voice again, but that wasn’t true, was it?
Dad died on impact.
Dad died, and all I had left were those awful scars.
When the light first came overhead, I tried to open my eyes. My body had grown too heavy to do much of anything, and from the prison of my head, I tried to remember what I was doing. I tried to remember anything other than those slick hands on my body. Someone was carrying me. Someone was holding me against their chest, was humming into my ear. Then, everything darkened again.
Michael?
* * *
The next time I awoke, there was no warmth. There was no voice. There were no gentle hums. The only thing to greet me in the dark was the sound of crickets, the whisper of wind that would never touch my face. I was inside now, but when I opened my eyes, the only thing I could really focus on was the light overhead. I didn’t recognize the ceiling. I didn’t see the damage that was usually over my bed, didn’t smell the familiar scent of cinnamon and spice. Panic tightened everything, but I wouldn’t blink. I wouldn’t look away from the burning light or the strange ceiling.
If I blink, I’ll fall asleep.
If I sleep, I’ll never see Mom again.
Wake up.
Please just wake up.
“Michael?” The scratch that came from my throat was hardly recognizable— but maybe that was just the twisted fingers of the dark. Tears pricked at my eyes, but still, I wouldn’t blink. There was the slightest movement to my left, and I croaked again. “Michael?”
“Stay still.”
A prick in my arm brought a whimper of pain. Once the rush of chemicals hit, once the slightest bit of relief came, there was no holding back the tears. It was only when something helped that I realized how much pain I was in, and as my sobs filled the room, my eyes shut again.
* * *
This time, I had no problem opening my eyes. Whatever drug it was that erased the pain had made my head fuzzy, but I didn’t think anything was strong enough to dull the danger that knotted my stomach. Every muscle had stiffened with anxiety, but I was in too much pain to sit up the way I wanted to. Instead, my eyes jerked open. Instead, all I focused on was the overhead light, the ceiling from behind.
I’d always recognize him. Even in the dark, even with the growing distance between us. I’dalwaysrecognize Michael. The man sat next to my bed, arms folded over his chest as those dark eyes looked out at me. Numbness locked the building sob in my chest as I saw him, as I saw traces of the beast I’d met all those years ago. Those dark eyes didn’t belong to the boy I met— they belonged to the beast he’d become. They belonged to the thing that put Josh in a coma. They belonged to the animal that used to follow me home at night, that used to touch me in that secluded library, that tore away the man I loved.
The haze wouldn’t keep me safe forever. It took a moment to recognize the IV hooked up to my arm, to process the blood that dripped into me, to piece together the bandage over his veins. That ceiling, those sounds didn’t belong to a hospital. The bond that tied us together was no longer in my imagination.
I’ll never bleed him out.
He sensed it before I even moved. Panic must have stiffened my muscles, because I was sure it wasn’t just the drugs that slowed my hand. Michael’s hands were on me before I could tug on the line attached to me, his snarls darkening my vision. When I wouldn’t stop, when my hand smacked against his chest, a different snarl brought my obedience. I cried out when he slammed me back against the bed, when he twisted my arm back into place, and for the first time, I felt the shooting pain running along my side.
“Stay still.”
“I have to go home,” I whimpered. “Please, Michael, I just need to—”
“You’re not going anywhere!”
My head shook with his scream. As my side grew sticky again, nausea rushed my system. My eyes flittered shut, and when the darkness came for me, I tried not to think of the hands that had slunk under my shirt, that had worked their way under my bra. That thing that found in me the woods, was that Michael, too? From the dark, he murmured something out to me again, a softer hum that relaxed my muscles. When the pain returned, all I wanted to do was look down at my side.
“It hurts,” I slurred.
“You need to stay still, Birdie.”
“I thought you’d make it better.” I knew he moved beside me. Whatever drug he was pumping into me detached me from my body, but I wasn’t sure anything could lessen that pain. Was I dying? Would that awful ceiling be the last thing I saw? “You lied to me.”
“I saved you.” His hiss wouldn’t frighten me this time— not as he pulled up my soaked shirt. “Isavedyou, Birdie.”
The words wouldn’t make any sense. But then, nothing seemed to make any sense when his hands were on my skin. Nothing made sense as memories of us ran through my head, as I tried to connect the boy I met to the beast he became. My side was damp again.
