chapter three

The light shining on my face made me raise my arm over my eyes to block it, but as my skin touched the back of my eyelids did I remember I wasn’t supposed to be here.

I can’t even fucking kill myself right.

I turned my sore and achy body away from the window and hugged my knees to my chest underneath the thin sheet that covered me. The room was bright, decorated in soft blues and creams. Even though I didn’t get a good look, I could tell the window was open because it let in a salty sea breeze, telling me I was still near the ocean.

It didn’t look like a hospital, not even a mental facility. Maybe an inn or a beach house of some sort? My fingers ran over the soft cotton pants someone had dressed me in and the baggy t-shirt. At least whoever saved me had excellent taste in comfortable clothes.

My lips were so chapped they felt tight on my face. Only until I tried to give them a little lick to wet them did I even realize how dry my mouth was. It was probably from the saltwater I inhaled or whatever medication they gave me when they pulled me out of the water. Sighing, I looked over to the little nightstand and was grateful to see a glass of water next to a metal pitcher that was obviously filled with more.

Numbness swallowed the gratefulness almost as soon as I recognized what I was feeling, stiffening my limbs and locking them into place. I wanted to cry, but my body didn’t allow it. I closed my stinging eyes to give them some break as I felt my limbs contract inward, trying to force myself into a tighter ball.

I don’t want to be here.

I let myself fall into the sounds of the distantly crashing waves and singing birds. I didn’t think I drifted off, but a hand was lightly stroking my hair the next time I was aware. I opened my eyelids to let in the low evening light, and once they adjusted, I saw a man with long black hair that reached his broad shoulders. His face was clean-shaven, and he had dimples that I couldn’t help zero in on. His eyes were brilliant green that seemed to shimmer, and his expression was soft.

“You’re awake.”

I didn’t have the energy to answer him, nor did I want to. However, my silence didn’t bother him because he continued smoothing my hair.

“Gave me quite a scare, you know. I found you on the beach near my house. You’ve been unconscious for a few days now, and I would’ve been more worried if the village doctor didn’t give you the okay.” His voice trailed off as he swallowed hard. “Told me you would wake up on your own when you were ready.”

He took a few moments of running his fingers through my hair, allowing me to relax further.
“I know you must be hungry. I made lamb soup for dinner. I could carry you to the living room couch if you’re not up to walking.” His voice was so smooth it could have been mistaken for a lullaby.

My stomach burned slightly, letting me know I was hungry, but I still had no desire to eat. However, if worse came to worse, I guess some broth would give my stomach something to digest, so I gave him the slightest of nods.

He answered with a warm smile before snaking his arms underneath the covers to hook one underneath my knees and wrap the other behind my upper back, hoisting me up in a bridal style. He didn’t even grunt while picking me up despite me not being the lightest of weights, which flustered me just a little bit about how strong he was.

As we left the bedroom, I could finally take in what the rest of the house looked like. The bedroom was in the middle of the hallway, facing a room I can only assume was another bedroom, but the door was closed, so I didn’t know for sure.

He started to take us up the hallway that led into an open and bright space with the kitchen and small dining table at one end and an entire living room with an entertainment system at the other. He sat me down on the plush couch, placing a lap desk with a bowl of lamb soup resting on top with a cup of water, utensils, and a piece of bread. Then he sat next to me with his lap desk loaded with his own dinner.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but I thought this would be a more casual way to get to know me so you’ll feel more comfortable,” he began, taking a delicate sip of his soup and humming as he did so.

I followed his lead and forced my hand to grab the spoon with a shakiness I could not subdue. I let some broth seep onto the spoon before raising it to my mouth. It was so much tastier than I thought. The warmth spread almost as if it was healing in a way.

“Ah, so you already noticed.” He looked so pleased with that fact. “My mom was a prominent medicine woman in her day. There was practically nothing she couldn’t heal or make better. She taught me that this soup, if made with love, could heal you in the darkest times.”
I felt the corner of my lips tug up in a parody of a smile before relaxing down to a more neutral expression.

“I’m glad it’s already helping. Please eat more,” he said, and I had no good reason to refuse his request. I wasn’t exactly hungry, or rather had an appetite, but I couldn’t deny how tasty this was. The lamb was tender and flavorful, the vegetables melted in your mouth, and the warmth spread throughout your body.

“Name?” I cough slightly, my throat far sorer than anticipated. I took a sip of my cool water, and it thankfully soothed my throat.

“Ah, I’m sorry, my dear. That slipped my mind!” He rested his spoon in his dish, head facing my direction but not looking into my eyes with a flush on his cheeks. “My name is Hemming; it’s nice to meet you.” He smiled, and I could see his fingers twitching like he wanted to place his hand on mine, but he knew not to touch me anymore than he already did, as if he didn’t want to scare me away. In reality, I felt very safe in his presence. He could have placed his hand on mine, and I wouldn’t have thought anything of it.

“If you can, what is your name, dear?”

“Liliana,” I said, satisfied I didn’t have a coughing fit this time.

“What a pretty name,” Hemming cooed. “It is so nice to finally meet you, Liliana.”

I gave him a small smile in return and bridged the gap between us by briefly placing my hand on top of his and giving it a squeeze. His warmth seeped into me, and it felt good.

I let go of him once I realized my touch lingered, and I rested my hand at my side as his face was frozen with a smile like he couldn’t comprehend that I gave in to touch him so soon after meeting him. But my hand felt cold, making me feel uncomfortable with the fact that I wanted to continue touching him.

He placed his hand on the hand that left him, and gave me a squeeze which brought me out of my thoughts. As I looked back at him, the frozen smile was warm again. He removed his hand and took away our now empty dishes along with the lap desks, placing them all on the coffee table.

I had just met him but never wanted to leave his side. His warmth felt so good because it was the only thing my body could feel emotionally at the moment. And it was addicting.
I didn’t want to return home and face the coldness I knew was waiting for me. I wanted to soak up all the comfort he gave and forget the nightmare that was my life, at least for a little while.
So with fidgeting hands, I made my decision. I wanted to feel something other than this crushing numbness, and it may be a little too soon, but I’d take it any way I could get it right now.

Even if he rejected me, I probably would hate myself if I didn’t at least try.

So I leaned in to kiss him.