His kindness moved a lump to my throat. I couldn’t speak. I nodded and gave him a small smile of appreciation.
Karson moved away from the fireplace and sat down on the couch next to me. I wondered if he was worried my lip might bleed again and, if it did, how Michael and Monique might respond. I was overcome with a sudden exhaustion so intense Istruggled to keep my eyes fully open. They felt grainy, as if sand had made its way inside the centre of my eyeballs. I felt an urge to yawn, but was scared I’d reopen my lip. I wanted to get up, but I knew it’d hurt. I sat unsure, not moving.
“Go to bed, Amelia, you look tired,” Karson said.
“In a minute.” I curled my feet under my body slowly, listening to them talk, although most of what was said didn’t register. Their voices waved in and out, like they were carried on winds from afar. Weariness crept over my eyes, leaden, they closed. I felt my head rest against Karson’s shoulder, and my hand found his arm. Exhausted, I drifted and slept heavily.
I woke to Karson lifting me up. I struggled to pull my eyes open; when I did, it was just a sliver. Exhaustion pulled them closed again.
“What time is it? Put me down.” I blinked several times, trying to force my eyes to remain open. He didn’t put me down.
“It’s two, I’ve got you.”
“I can walk.”
“I know.”
“You’re not going to put me down, are you?”
“No.”
Weariness robbed me of the strength to protest. He sat me down carefully at the edge of the bed. He went to the window and peered into the darkness, searching for threats outside.
“I might sleep in your room, if it’s alright with you?”
I nodded, unsure if he was worried about threats from outside or inside the house.
“Do what you think you need to.”
I opened the drawer on the bedside table, located the Tylenol and threw four into my mouth. I opened the water bottle and gulped them down. Karson sat in the armchair. I took off the robe, sat it on the end of the bed, switched off the light and climbed gingerly into bed. When I finally settled myself to somedegree of comfort, I was facing the doorway, so my bruised side was up.
“You’re not sleeping in the chair staring at me all night, get in bed. It’s not like we haven’t shared one before.”
“I will get in in a minute, I’m not tired yet.”
I stared out into the darkness of night, aching from head to toe, aware of his presence, craving the comfort of his touch. Emptiness came, like the clunk of a prison door being shut. I was desperate for him to cradle my body against his, to whisper in my ear,
‘It’s going to be alright, I’ve got you!’Even if only for tonight.
“Karson,” I said on a weak voice, “thank you for coming tonight.”
He didn’t respond for some time. Finally, he simply said, “Go to sleep, Amelia.”
Mind numbing exhaustion ended the night’s torture.
Chapter 76
Who Wants Me Dead?
I slept heavily, waking only once when I’d tried to turn in my sleep and a sharp pain clinched my ribs, yanking me awake. I managed to roll to my back and stayed there until I woke at the beginnings of the morning light. My head ached. My chest felt sore. My face throbbed with each beat of my heart. One eye was almost closed; through that side I could see only a thin slit of blurred ceiling. I turned my head gingerly to the side. The bed was empty, untouched. The chair too, was empty.
Sunlight glinted softly across the covers. Outside, birds chirped. The early morning sky was filled with shades of fire and flowers. I laid in bed and cherished the feeling of normality, aside from my aching body. Had things taken a worse turn last night, if one of those bullets had hit me, if the punch had knocked me out for longer, if Ethan hadn’t answered, if Karson hadn’t of come, today I may not have woken at all.
Finally, I forced myself to move, groaning, I rolled slowly to my side. Pain jerked at my ribs. Biting my lip, taking deep breaths, hissing through my teeth, I used my hands and arms as leverage, and pushed myself up. The room dotted, dizziness held me hostage, and I sat there for a moment, breathing throughit until the room came back into focus. I recognized the feeling from hospital after the car accident that’d taken my mother’s life. It’s a side effect of concussion.
I peeled the covers back and dangled my feet over the edge of the bed. Someone had left pain relief and water by my bed. I took three tablets, gulped down some water and stood. I was stiff and sore, but all things considered, I was lucky.
I went to the bathroom and stared at my face in the mirror. I looked like I’d just been in the ring with Mike Tyson and lost. The left side of my face was a mixture of swollen blues and purples. My lips were fuller than a B grade Hollywood actress. The split had crusted over but it wouldn’t take much to open it again, and I had one hell of a shiner. I lifted my top up. A hand-sized section across the left side of my ribs was mingled black, purple, and blue. Swollen, like rows of purple cabbage. The bruising traversed around toward my back, where it may have stopped, I didn’t know—I couldn’t twist my torso far enough to check.
