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Talking about it makes it feel real again, and I rub my arms as goosebumps pop up.
“I—I don’t know who the man was, but I know he meant a lot to me. I was terrified, Logan. I was so scared as I thought he would die.” I rub my arms harder.
Then, something occurs to me that makes my eyes pop wide.
“What if he’s someone I know? What if he didn’t die there and he’s looking for me? What if he’s… my brother?”
Logan leaves the single chair and comes to sit beside me. He takes my shaky hands, holding them in his warm ones.
“Take a deep breath, Lily. Take a deep breath. Let’s figure this out together.”
I nod, but the panic in my chest makes it hard to breathe.
“In,” he says softly. “Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Through your nose.”
I close my eyes, following his instructions. He tells me to breathe out from my mouth, and I part my lips, taking in air for as long as he asks me to. Minutes pass, and I feel the goosebumps on my skin settle into normal skin pores, and the panic in my chest subsides, giving me enough room to breathe freely.
I don’t open my eyes, though. It feels safer, listening to his words in a place where nothing is—like my personal bubble.
“Here,” Logan wraps one arm around me and pulls me closer to his chest. “Lean on me. You don’t have to do this all alone.”
Hesitantly, I lay my head on his shoulder. The gesture works magic, getting rid of the anxiety and panic that dispersed into corners of my body. I feel the weight lift off my shoulders, and soon enough, my eyelids become heavy, finally embracing fatigue after the crying and the adrenaline dump.
I should stand up. I should go to my room and take a nap.
But I don’t want to be left alone with nightmares and these thoughts. I need comfort and support; exactly what Logan’s arm and shoulder are providing at the moment.
Okay.
I’ll just close my eyes for a while. Just a little while,and then I’ll stand up. Just a little bit longer.
CHAPTER 13
Logan
I glance at Lily’s when I hear the soft snoring, surprised to see her asleep. She looks peaceful with her eyes closed, and her lips slightly parted.
If I hadn’t been there in the hospital or had not sat with her as she relieved the horrors of the sliver of memory that her mind released, I wouldn’t have guessed what had happened before she fell asleep.
Her chest rises and falls… gently, and her posture, hands on her lap and head on her shoulder, portrays the image of someone peacefully sleeping.
Which is the opposite of what I am right now.
The man on the stretcher.
The blood in her hands.
The fear in her body when she was scared that he might not make it.
Is it a link to what brought her here? Could she have witnessed a crime, and someone decided to get rid of her but was unsuccessful?
I exhale as my mind runs through the possibilities. The theories keep growing longer and longer, adding more twists with every information she divulges.
Did she work at a hospital?
Is the man from her memory a family member or… her husband?
I shake my head.
