Using the cotton balls and the napkins, I wrap it around the wound as tightly as I can. Daddy said it has to be tight and clean so no nasty germs get in there.
“W-who did this to you?” I ask. “Them monsters?”
He nods once.
“I’m going to save you. I p-promise.”
His other hand wraps around my arm and tugs me down. I lie beside him, his injured hand remaining limp between us.
“Stay like this,” he whispers.
My lips tremble and my nose tingles as I stare at him and cry. I cry for what seems like forever. My tears turn into hiccoughs and then into loud sobs.
It’s ugly, snot and tears cover my face, but I can’t stop.
It hurts so much.
His thumb wipes under my eyes. “Don’t cry.”
“I can’t stop.”
“I don’t like it when you cry.” He continues gathering my tears and making them go away.
“Why?”
“Because it hurts me when you’re hurt.”
“M-me, too. That’s why I’m crying. I don’t want you hurt.”
“I’m going to be okay, Elsa.”
“Promise?”
He doesn’t answer. I jerk into a sitting position, hiccoughing and drawing involuntary breaths. “P-promise?”
“I can’t.”
“But why?” I shriek. “Does it hurt too much? I’m going to kiss it better.”
Leaning over, I place a kiss on the side of his bandage. “Daddy says it heals when you kiss it.”
He smiles. It’s weak and with no energy, but he smiles.
“You need to eat.” I rummage through my bag and bring out the sandwich.
It takes me some time to help him sit up against the wall. Once he’s settled, I wrap the blanket around him and place the sandwich between his fingers.
“You have to eat all that to get better.”
He munches slowly, not like the other days when he was so hungry, he devoured it.
I crouch in front of him, place my arms on my knees, and watch him. His injured arm lies limp beside him. The bandage around it is ugly.
“I have an idea!” I search in the bag and bring out my black marker. I was going to show him the picture of houses I’ve been drawing and ask him if he knows how to make one.
Because I told Daddy I’m going to build houses when I grow up.
Grey Eyes watches me closely but he says nothing as I grab his injured arm. Biting down my lip, I lay it on my lap and draw on the non-injured side.
Once I’m done, he studies my drawing. “What is that?”
“An arrow.”
“Why an arrow?”
“Daddy says when you feel bad, you should keep that energy inside.”
“Why inside?”
“So you can store it for later. Bad things happen for a reason.”
“Bad things happen for a reason,” he repeats, staring between the arrow and my face before a small smile breaks on his lips.
I love that smile.
I want to kiss it, not to make it better, but because I love it.
So I do just that. I lean over and press my lips to the corner of his mouth.
Elsa
Present
I startle awake. My hair sticks to the side of my face with sweat. Sitting in bed, I pull my knees to my chest like in that dream.
Only it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory of when Aiden got the scar on his forearm.
Raw emotions creep under my skin like creatures from the night, rough and mysterious.
The tattoos.
His arrow tattoos are inspired by what I drew back then.
He’s right. I’ve been under his skin for such a long time just like he’s been under mine.
Even though I don’t remember everything, I clearly remember that potent connection we shared in the basement.
Our story started there whether I like to admit it or not.
Back then, it was children finding friendship in each other. Truth is, we were and still are lost souls finding refuge in one another.
I check the time and it’s a little after midnight. Retrieving my phone, I type.
Elsa:Are you there?
Aiden has been absent from school since the scene at the pool three days ago. Apparently, Jonathan didn’t like the way he ended the engagement with Silver and he’s making him pay in the only way Jonathan knows how — taking him away.
They’ve been on some business trip to China. Aiden has been texting me sporadically whenever he finds the time.
To say I miss him would be an understatement and an insult to my feelings.
Just when I thought we could talk about our differences and have a real conversation, Jonathan has to ruin it.
No reply comes through.
It should be around eight in the morning in China right now, but he could be too busy to reply.
I’m about to try to go back to sleep when my phone vibrates in my hand, making me shudder.
Aiden:I’m always here for you, sweetheart.
My heart does that flip-flopping thing like it’s having a crush on Aiden all over again.
Aren’t we over that phase already, heart?
Before I can reply, my screen lights up with another text.
Aiden:Did you have another nightmare?
God. He knows me so well. Under normal circumstances, I would be fast asleep at this time.
Elsa:Half-nightmare. Half-dream.
Aiden:Do tell.
Elsa:It was about you.
Aiden:I told you, one day you’ll dream about me like I dream about you. Was it kinky?
Elsa:No.
Aiden:Half-kinky?
Elsa:What does half-kinky even mean?
Aiden:It means I tied you to the bedpost and fucked you for an entire day.
I bite the inside of my cheek, my temperature rising.
Elsa:No. It wasn’t like that.
Aiden:It wasn’t, huh? Funny because that’s what I dreamt about. We need to synchronise our dreams.
I suppress a smile. What type of magic does Aiden possess to make me feel better even through texts?
Elsa:If I ask you to tell me about the past, will you?
I expect him to think about it, to tell me I’m not ready, but the reply is immediate.
Aiden: Whenever you wish.
A stuttering breath heaves out of me. The type of breath which lifts some weight off my chest. Not all the weight, but the relief is there, as tiny as it is.
Elsa:Thank you.
Aiden:Don’t thank me until you know all the facts.
My hand turns clammy around the phone. In the back of my mind, there’s a giant box titled The Truth Isn’t Easy, but his words magnify that box, it’s becoming wider and bigger than what my head can contain.
Dad and I talked about my missing memories, alone and with Dr Khan. My shrink recommended that I remember it on my own without hearing retellings, and Dad complied.
The truth is a sneaky thing. Like a witch, it demands a high price before setting you free.
Life as I know it can go up in smoke — including my relationship with Dad and Aiden.
I squash that scary thought and type the question I’ve been asking since he left.
Elsa:When are you coming back?
Aiden:Less than a week.
Aiden:Why? Do you miss me?
I don’t even think as I type. I don’t listen to my paranoia anymore. Denying my feelings for Aiden only destroyed me from the inside.
Elsa:I do.
The phone brightens up with his name and the picture of our first kiss.
Shit.
I didn’t think he’d call.
Clearing my throat, I answer, “Hey.”
“Say it. I need to hear it.” The raspiness in his tone sends tingles racing down my spine. That voice is made to say dirty, authoritative things.
“Say what?”
“That you miss me.”
“I miss you.” My voice is low, sultry. I didn’t even know I had that range.
“Fuck, sweetheart. I’m hard.”
A wave of longing grips me by the throat. It tingles at the bottom of my stomach, pooling there. “You are?”
“Fuck right, I am.” His growl is rough, animalistic even.
God. I love his voice when he lets his real self shine through.
“You drive me fucking crazy, Elsa.”
“How crazy?” I ask because I can’t help myself.