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A familiar, warm hand engulfed mine. There was no more pain. No more fear. I could just be. My fingers twitched, and the hand squeezed mine. Then someone traced a finger down my cheek.
“Everleigh? Can you hear me?”
The voice flowed around me like honey.
So happy.
“Why’s she not waking up?”
There was the beautiful voice again. I wanted to tell him to say more, but my mouth wasn’t working. My eyes were heavy, but I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted more of the voice. And the touch. Where was the hand?
“She’ll wake up when she’s ready.”
“It’s been four days.”
The voice was angry. I preferred the honey.
So sleepy.
The weight of the blankets was crushing me. Why do I have so many blankets on me? Was I cold when I went to bed last night?
My sluggish mind was still playing catch-up. Fragments hit me, forcing me to remember.
The cliff. Cold water.
Where am I?
I wiggled my toes. Flexed my fingers. My body was slowly cooperating. At least all my limbs were still attached and working. Each movement caused pain to shoot up and down every inch of my body, which I took as a good sign. If I felt pain, I must still be alive.
My eyes slowly opened, and I blinked into the dark room. I swallowed, my mouth dry. My hands slowly made their way out of the blankets, and I pushed the heavy covers off my body. I sighed in relief once I shoved all the blankets away, each movement painful, my arms weak. I was sweaty and unsettled.
I moved with an aching slowness, pushing into a seated position on the edge of the bed. My feet were dangling off the side, my legs not quite long enough to touch the floor. I paused to catch my breath and took in my surroundings, my aching ribs a reminder of what had happened.
My eyes fell on the chair near the bed. A dark shape was sitting in it, unmoving. Their breathing was even, the slow rise and fall of their chest telling me they were asleep.
Careful not to wake the person assigned to guard me, I slowly stood up. The room started spinning and I had to hold on to the bed. I made it to the bathroom after an agonizingly slow shuffle and closed the door behind me, slumping against it.
My body was sluggish to respond. My arm felt like it was filled with lead when I lifted it to turn on the light. I snapped my eyes shut at the sudden brightness, black spots dancing in my vision.
What a clusterfuck of a mess. Things had gone from bad to worse in the span of one bad decision. And why wasn’t I dead?
I lifted my eyes to assess the damage I had done to myself and sucked a sharp breath in at my reflection. My face was black and blue, my hair one gigantic rat’s nest and my eyes bloodshot.
I washed my face, the action making me feel slightly more human again. The thought of walking all the way back to my bed made me dizzy. My body hurt with every breath I took, with every move I made.
With a defeated sigh, I pulled two fluffy towels off the rack and dropped them into the bathtub. Then I sank into my makeshift bed and fell asleep immediately.
I felt myself being lifted. The arms were familiar, wrapping around me carefully as if I were precious. I snuggled into a hard chest and inhaled a soapy clean smell I craved. A deep voice murmured something into my hair. A soft mattress encased my body, and then blankets covered my body.
The arms keeping me safe disappeared, and I was once again ensconced in a cocoon of warmth.
Sunlight streamed through the windows when I opened my eyes next. I was sore all over. I rolled to the side but was met with resistance. I was lying underneath heavy down blankets again. “Too many fucking blankets,” I mumbled into the silent room.
“Clearly feeling better,” a voice grumbled to my right.
I turned my head and saw Santino sitting on a chair by the window. He looked like he’d recently found out that a person couldn’t live off protein bars and whiskey. Since it was nice to see a familiar face, I ignored his thunderous expression.
The only part of my body that didn’t hurt was my thumb. The rest of my fingers were stiff, and a closer inspection revealed more bruising and scabs.
