Greyson walks in at some point—I’m not sure how long it’s been, but he quickly informs me two days. Which means it’s been three days since I slept, washed myself, or thought about anything other than Ember.
“You smell like a goat,” Grey remarks drily. “Go take a fucking shower. I’ll stay with her.”
“No.”
“Max.” he sighs. “Go check on your dog, shower, and get some food in your system. If she wakes up, I’ll call you.”
“No.”
“You really want her to see you like this? Covered in days-old blood, dirt, and your own sweat?”
That’s what finally gets to me.
I run upstairs. Take the fastest shower in the history of mankind, feed my dog—who’s thrilled to get attention—and then make it back downstairs.
As soon as I hit the med wing, my phone buzzes with an incoming text from Greyson.
She’s stirring.
I break out into a sprint, and get into the room just in time to see Ember’s eyes fluttering, her arms and legs shifting restlessly on the bed.
“Out!” I shout at Greyson. I want to be the first person she sees when she wakes up.
Greyson leaves without comment, and I take a seat on the bed beside my Ember, urgency gripping every inch of my being. Ember’s eyes crack open—slowly, at first, but then surely, they open fully. Flick around the room, filled with confusion at first… and then, something I don’t want to name.
Flame’s eyes lock with my own. Her breath stutters, sending my heart racing, and then she parts her lips and speaks.
Her wordsdestroyme.
“You should’ve let me die.”
That’s all she says before passing out again, and I swear to God, it feels like the world comes crashing down around me.
The next time she wakes up is another day later. The doctors tell me she’s improving—recovering even better than we could’ve hoped, thanks to the drug one of the docs formulated to speed cell regeneration—but by the looks of her, you wouldn’t be able to tell.
She’s pale. Withdrawn. Her eyes are mostly-empty.
And won’t even fuckinglookat me, let alone speak to me.
I am devastation incarnated.
For the first day of her being awake, I do everything in my power to get her to eat and drink. Starting with enticements, ending with threats.
The doctors end up having to feed her through a tube—and she doesn’t even fightthat,which is when I truly start to worry.
The second day, I talk to her. I tell her about our youths, my memories of us. She doesn’t seem to care. If she hears me, she doesn’t acknowledge it. I suspect she’s lost very deep in her mind—I think she’s checked out from the world around her, intentionally or unintentionally.
I’ve seen people in this state before, when they endure trauma so acute it just seems to shut down their brain. They’re alive, they’retechnicallyfunctional, but they’re also not fully there. Not evenremotelythere.
On the fourth day, I get the go-ahead to take Ember back to our room. She’sstillnot eating or drinking, and I pray that the change of scenery could help her.
It partially does.
She lets me feed her,finally, but she doesn’t seem coherent.
Greyson comes knocking on day five, long after I’ve lost my mind.
What the hell iswrongwith her? Physically, she’s recovering; mentally, she just seems… gone. And I can’t reconcile with the idea that she might’ve chosen to recede into her mind permanently and leave me.
