AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Noah seemed too exhausted to argue and leaned forward. He rested his arms on his upraised knees, head bowed, revealing his scars to me. All of them.
They were bad, no doubt, but I’d seen the mangled, bloody horror of the original wounds in the Google photos. The scars were nothing compared to that; mere echoes of that terrible accident, permanently carved into his skin.
The three claw-looking marks I had seen were almost the same here, now white and striated, climbing up the right side of his back to his hairline. The left side that had required skin grafting was worse: an uneven rectangle with ragged edges that covered almost the entire left side of his upper back. The rest of his back was smooth, unblemished skin over muscle. Part of a crude rectangle—the twin of the one on his back—was visible on the inside of his right thigh, just above the bubbles.
I lathered up the cloth and washed the scars on his back with the same gentle care as I had the rest of him. I could feel the uneven texture of his skin beneath the cloth.
“It doesn’t disgust you?” Noah asked dully. “It does me.”
“No. It amazes me that you survived this.”
He snorted. “It amazes me that Iwantedto survive it.”
I felt a lump rise in my throat. “What do you mean?”
“I fought hard when I woke up from the coma or else I would have died. I should’ve just…let go. But I didn’t. Because of hope. Stupid, pointless, fucking hope.”
I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t, and I couldn’t find any words. Not the right ones anyway. He hated pity and there was nothing I could say that would make his loss any easier to take. I knew that firsthand. Grief had to run its course and that was all there was to it. Mine was still running and so was Noah’s, so I saved my useless words.I’m here for him when no one else is, I thought.Maybe that’s worth more anyway.
“Do you want me to wash your hair?” I asked. I started to touch the dark, silken waves at the back of his head, but he flinched away from me.
“No,” he rasped, then gulped air. “No, sorry. The scars there…they’re the worst. Don’t touch them…please.”
“Okay, I won’t. Whatever you want.”
“I want to sleep, Charlotte. I’m so tired.”
“Of course. Let’s get you out.”
I let the water out and got a towel from the rack. I averted my eyes again as I helped Noah to stand and then gave him the towel. He wrapped it around his waist, and I guided him out of the bathroom to the bed.
“Sit here, and I’ll get you something to wear.”
I rummaged around in his drawers for underwear, a T-shirt, and some soft pants to sleep in. He dressed himself and I waited until he was done, then helped him into bed. I watched as he felt for the headboard, careful not to knock his head on it, and eased himself down.
“Get some rest. I’m going to clean up the sink—”
“No, Charlotte…”
“Yes,” I said firmly, “it’s no trouble.”
He shook his head weakly, fatigue dragging him down, “I meant…don’t go yet. Stay with me. A little while longer. Please.”
Every part of me froze but for my heart that was thumping madly. “Okay,” I managed and climbed onto the bed.
I thought that shocked him a little; he thought I’d stay and hold his hand, maybe. But Chris used to tell me that I never did anything halfway.
I slid up next to Noah and held him as I had in the bathroom. He hesitated, unsure, then relented with another sigh. He wrapped one long arm around me as I snuggled into him, letting him rest his head above my left breast, against my heart, and I prayed he wouldn’t notice its quick pace.
“It’s my fault,” he murmured. “I brought it on myself. This rage…it’s eating me alive.”
“What happened?” I asked gently, stroking the hair along his temple as I had when the migraine wracked him. “What happened to you?”
He was silent for a moment and when he spoke, his voice was brimming with old, tired bitterness. “They told me my sight might come back as my brain healed. Maybe just a little. Maybe all of it. They’d planted the seed and I just wish…I wish they’d kept their mouths shut.”
“Why?”
“Because I might not have fought so hard to live.”
