The buzzing in my head finally switches off. All the frantic thoughts settle, and there’s just white noise. And the feeling of being secured within his arms. A weighted blanket of peace. Quiet. Inside my head and out. And the longer he holds me, the more I warm up, too, his body heat transferring to me.
My eyes close, and I lay my head against his chest. How can he be warm when it’s so freezing outside? And he’s not even wearing a coat?
It’s my last stray thought as I drift off again, this time into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
FIFTEEN
THING
She fallsasleep in my arms. I do not know how she can, especially after what I told her today. Especially when she usually seems to dislike touch. But I sensed there was something different about this touch.
Not casual, but an all-encompassing pressure hug that comforted her panicked, upset state. I was so terrified when I heard her scream in the tent.
My first thought was that another animal had somehow gotten in from the other side. That I had again failed her. I all but ripped my way into the tent, only to find her thrashing and screaming something that sounded likepapa, no!half out of her bag. Her cheeks were chapped and red with cold, her lips deathly pale.
I was glad but terrified when she screamed for me to hold her. And finally taking her in my arms was like giving into my greatest wish. I wanted to pinch myself to make sure I had not broken my oath and fallen asleep when I had promised not to.Because having her in my arms, her cold cheek nestled against my chest, felt like a dream.
Especially when I quickly felt the tension go out of her limbs in my embrace. As if she actually. . . found comfort inme.
Mine was the face and form that terrified men. That made them scream and piss themselves in their last moments before I carried them off to the other world.
This beautiful creature only finds comfort and rest in my arms.
The struggle of emotions stirring in my chest is so unfamiliar I don’t know what to do with them. I feel a renewed certainty that I’ll never abandon her in cowardly escape. I nestle my chin on her tiny, fragile head and apply the slight pressure she asked for, careful not to squeeze too tightly. It’s a delicate dance considering my strength as I hold her throughout the long night.
The fire dies down outside, but I don’t worry too much. It turns out that holding her like this allows a sharing of my body heat I never expected. Between us springs up a furnace of warmth. She’ll stay safe from the cold at night if I hold her. My very body can offerprotection, another shocking thought.
I always believed so deeply that my only purpose in existence was to cause death and destruction. . .
But here she is, flipping everything on its head.
I breathe out heavily, struggling not to let my thoughts get ahead of themselves. Her warmth is a brief reprieve in my lonely life, so I will be glad of this gift and not squander another moment of it.
I hold her and do not rest. Instead, I stay intensely awake, meditating on the feel of her in my arms, memorizing her closeness, the scent of her skin and hair, and staying alert in case there should be any threat.
Really, though, I know I’m trying to capture these memories to fill me up for the rest of my long eternity after this short week has passed by, and she’s lost to me again.
It seems impossible to me now that a few short days ago, I did not know her. And more even impossible that in another scattering of days, I will never see her again.
Doubly important, then, to live my entire life in these days I will spend with her and waste not an iota of it.
Deeply, I inhale and, for perhaps the first moments of my life, feel the peace I have forever chased. And try not to think how fleeting it will be.
SIXTEEN
KSENIA
When I wake,Thing’s arms are still securely around me. It doesn’t panic me like I thought it would.
Instead, it does what it did last night. It makes everything calm.
All the buzzing thoughts and sensations are quiet. The pressure of his arms squeezing ever so slightly allows me to breathe and not panic. After my mother’s death, I couldn’t stand for anyone to touch me except my father. Sometimes, if I experienced anything else upsetting or shocking, he would hold me like this. So tightly that it made everything else recede, and I could finally calm down.
I never knew if it was because of my mother’s shocking death and the hours I spent at her side or if I was justlike this. I suppose I’ll never have the chance to know since I’ll always carry my history with me. I simply am who I am.
I never thought anyone else’s touch could calm me like my father’s. A thought that, on its own, starts to overwhelm me. Which makes me glad Thing is still holding me so tight.
I must wriggle or do something else that gives away the fact that I’m up because, above me, Thing’s deep voice rumbles, “You are awake.”
