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In the midst of it all, I caught myself forgetting. Forgetting that this was a prison for me. Forgetting that my life was being lived on borrowed time.
And in the midst of it all, I found myself not caring.
ChapterTwenty-One
Two weeks passed. I didn’t hear anything from Alek, and the one text I sent him to check up went unanswered.
For the first few days, I half-expected him to knock on my window every time I heard a sound. But when he didn’t, I was left with a sick feeling in my stomach.
After that, I decided to stop caring. It was a dangerous game, one I couldn’t afford to play.
Especially after what happened at the lake house.
The man I saw in my fever dream never returned. I had accepted the fact that I was picturing things, and the demon Alek killed had absolutely no business visiting me in my sleep.A freak accident,I called it.
I had begun to lose hope—begun to start forgetting about Alek entirely when a strange sound came from outside my window.
It wasn’t a knocking, more of a thump and the sound of bushes rustling.
I stopped cooking immediately and grabbed the biggest knife from my kitchen.
Natalie always knocked. Always.
The lights were dim, but I ducked anyway, making sure I was out of sight to anyone who might be looking through the window.
When I got close enough, I slowly peered outside, just enough to see if anyone was out there.
“Lyra,” Alek whimpered. I could barely hear him through the glass of the window. “Lyra,” he repeated. He was only half-standing, half-slumped against the wall of my apartment building.
Shit. Something was wrong.
I dropped the knife and used both hands to slide the frosty window open. “Alek?” I hissed. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” My eyes instinctively scanned the yard around him. It was a little past nine, but the sun was long-gone. With Alek’s black clothing, nobody would see.
And nobody else was around.
He tried to lift himself through my window but could barely stand. I grabbed his upper body and pulled as hard as I could, causing us both to land on the floor inside with a grunt of pain.
I quickly got up and closed the window behind me.
“I need your help,” he grunted. Alek was still lying in a heap, nearly in a fetal position with blood dripping to the floor.
He clutched his abdomen with both hands.
Adrenaline kicked in. I knelt next to him and surveyed the blood that leaked through the grip he had on himself. “What happened?” I demanded.
“Got stabbed. Couldn’t make it home.”
Alarms blared in my mind. “You gotwhat?”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
“Did they follow you? Does anyone know you’re here?” I stood up and ripped my blinds closed just in case.
“No,” he said. I was already on my way to the kitchen to grab a towel for the wound, but I could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re safe, don’t worry.”
I ran back to where he continued to bleed out on the floor and pressed the towel above his hands. He quickly got the hint and grabbed on to the towel, pressing it to the wound himself.
How was I supposed to help him? Why did he come here? I wasn’t a doctor, much less ademondoctor. And he was bleeding. A lot.
