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24
MARGARET
THERE’S DARKNESS EVERYWHERE. I feel it in my head, in my limbs, a dark weight pushing and holding me down, keeping me hostage. I don’t know where I am or how I got here. My eyes won’t open no matter how hard I ask them to. The fleeting thought that I’m dead crosses my mind, but I shove it away, praying it’s not true.
I beg my eyes, Please, open. Tell me where I am.
But nothing is listening to me. My body won’t respond to my pleas.
A fear I’ve never felt pulls at my conscious, and I pray I can make it out of this basement, pray I can plead with God to make a deal. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t. Please, put me out of my misery.
It takes hours—maybe days, but it’s impossible to tell—before I feel a weight on my left hand, someone squeezing it? Someone pulling me?
I don’t know, and the panic starts seizing me. The urge to kick and scream pulses through my body, and I push against the darkness to see something, anything. My eyes finally give in and peel open slowly. There’s a harsh light, and they reflexively slam shut again. A groan rumbles out of my throat, and I hear someone mumbling beside me.
Liam.
I know it by the low grumble of his voice. He found me.
Or we’re in a place I’ve never desired to be in.
I feel the shadows cover my eyes and I open them again. I take in my surroundings in a way Liam has conditioned me to do. Search for windows, exits, and threats. We’re in a hotel room, like the one I was in with him before. I’m lying on one of the beds, and Liam is suddenly right in my line of sight.
He looks horrible, and for him to look bad, it had to have been a rough few days. He looks like he hasn’t slept or showered in days. “Mo,” he whispers, being sensitive to my aching head. He must sense that it’s killing me.
“Liam,” I whisper back, reaching my hand toward him. He grasps it gently, being mindful of the tube sticking out of my arm. I follow it to an IV above my head and squint in confusion. What happened to me?
Liam takes in my expression and starts to explain. “You were severely dehydrated when we found you. The doctor hooked you up right away and has been monitoring you.” He stops and I stare at him, my eyes glassing over. He looks distraught as he says, “I thought you were dead.” His eyes look wet, and I feel mine fill with tears when I get a sudden sense of relief upon realizing I’m not chained up, knowing I’m alive and with him now. “I thought I’d lost you.”
He comes closer at my insistence and leans down, burying his head in my neck and letting me hold him. I finally take my first real breath in days. Inhaling slowly, Liam pulls back to take in my face, his eyes roaming over every part as if to make sure it’s real, to make sure we’re here. I don’t have to think about it much when I pull him close and press my lips to his.
I groan at the contact; everything feels so raw right now. I lost any sense of hope in that basement, and the last however many days have destroyed the security I had around myself when I was ignorant to this world. I thought I was going to die. Kissing Liam is grounding me to the present in a way I didn’t know I needed.
He pulls away before I want him to and when I protest, he smiles a small smile. “I can’t let myself get carried away with you.”
“Please get carried away,” I say, unashamed at the contact I feel I need. His smile only grows. I try to pull him back down, but just then the door opens and a tall, thin man walks into the room. His face is kind, and he gives me a grin when he makes eye contact.
“I’m glad to see you awake,” he says, and he shakes Liam’s hand. This must be the doctor he mentioned. I’m proven right when Liam introduces him as Dr. Carter. He goes through the motions of a normal checkup and inspects a bandage on my head, one I didn’t realize was there, and he then takes the IV out of my arm. “Well, your veins are looking better. You need to get some food in you, nothing too heavy, and get plenty of rest.”
Liam’s on the phone with room service before the doctor can finish his sentence, and I smirk at him.
The doctor leaves after that then something hits me. “Oh God, how is Ford?” I ask Liam as he hangs up. Walking over, he sits on the bed next to me, immediately grabbing my hand. There’s a smirk on his face, so my guess is Ford is somewhere recovering as well.
“He’s all right, a little banged up, but he’s up and around now.”
“Oh good.”
“He felt bad about everything,” Liam says.
“Please tell me you didn’t make him feel worse,” I say sternly, somehow sensing that is exactly how he would have handled the situation.
He squints his eyes at the wall above my head and feigns innocence.
“Liam, what did you do?”
“Nothing bad.” I see him look at me seriously and decide to let it go. “Come on, time to get you feeling better.” His fingers grasp my arm with a gentle authority, and I let him lead me toward the bathroom. Respecting my privacy, he helps me undress until I’m only in underwear then leaves the room. I almost call him back in, but I let my self-consciousness get the best of me and allow my dizzy head to take the lead.
I feel an extra sense of need with him that hasn’t been there until now. The chemistry, the tension has always been there, but this is a new feeling, a sensation of wanting to be safe, to be held and comforted. It’s something only he can give me.
