*CHAPTER 49*

*CHAPTER 49*
Images of fire and blinding white light burned at me, drowned me. I ran around my house, calling for my uncle as fire fell on me, wooden beams collapsing at my feet, scorching my skin. I desperately searched for David, calling out for him, knowing he was in this burning maze somewhere. I had to get to him. Save him.

Desperation and fear clawed at me.

A dark hooded figure stalked behind me as I ran. Following, watching from behind. They were hunting me. I glanced back over my shoulder, red eyes bored into me.

I called for my uncle, louder this time. Desperate. Smoke and heat radiated through me, my heartbeat going wild. A pair of solid hands grabbed my shoulders, shaking me, and I screamed. The feel of those hands wrenched me from that burning house, out of the nightmares until I was blinking awake and up into Malcolm's face.

I blinked around wildly. I wasn't in that house. I was in the hospital. Safe.

My face felt strange, and when I reached up with shaky hands to feel why, my fingers came away wet. I must have been crying in my sleep.

All the things I'd been avoiding, blocking out while I was awake had forced their way to the surface while I slept. The block that had been there keeping me from crying had magically disappeared while I'd been unconscious and now that the tears were falling. I wasn't sure I'd be able to get them to stop.

"It was a nightmare, Kassie. It wasn't real. Just a nightmare."

"It wasn't just a nightmare though." My voice was a weak wobble as my lungs tightened. More tears filled my eyes as I blinked up at Malcolm's face in the dim light. He crouched over my hospital bed with a stiff expression over his face I didn't recognize, "My uncle is dead. He's gone."

That knowledge settled over me like a cold sheet of water.

Saying out loud brought with it a wave of pain that hadn't been there before. As if saying it, speaking it into existence, was enough to bring all the emotion that had been blocked away the during the day.

I was alone. Really truly alone for the first time in my life.

That knowledge left a black hollowness eating me up from the inside out. A level of hopelessness settled over me that I'd never felt before. I didn't even have a house anymore. I felt broken, turned inside out until I wasn't sure how to find my way back out. And afraid.

Malcolm stared down at me, his expression blank. His form where he was crouched over the bed was tense, his hands twitched at his sides. A muscle ticked in his jaw and his lips flattened as my mental walls came back up, he shoulders loosened.

I tensed as I realized that I hadn't had the self-awareness to double-check my mental walls were up. I furiously worked to make sure every last brick was back in place. I didn't even want to know what he'd overheard in my mental wave of self-pity. Still, regardless of what he heard, he didn't look at me with sympathy or pity. Rather, the expression that crossed over his face had the haunted edge of someone who understood.

He hesitated for a moment—a moment that could have been minutes or hours. Then with long drawn out movements, as if he were fighting his own hidden mental battle and losing, he slowly, slowly, lowered himself until he was sitting on the mattress beside me. He leaned back awkwardly into the space beside me before tugging me against his chest.

I tensed, unsure what to think about the sudden contact. But, it only took a second for the feeling of warm arms around me, and I melted into the comfort he was unexpectedly offering me. Compared to our kiss and what we'd done in his truck, this felt more personal somehow...more real. More changing.

With my face squished to the front of his t-shirt, I let myself cry, shoulders shuddering with my silent sobs. With a tentative motion, Malcolm brought his palm to my back and patted in disjointed motions. I could tell he was uncomfortable, even still, he let me cry until my tears ran dry, not complaining about how I'd soaked his t-shirt. I cried until I'd exhausted myself, my face feeling swollen and achey, the warmth of Malcolm's body in the space beside me, the steady drumming of his heartbeat against my cheek, and the even in and out of of his breathing eventually soothed me into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. Thankfully, I didn't dream again.



The sound of voices dragged me out of a peaceful sleep.

"—sleeping right now." Malcolm was saying.

"I heard about what happened, I just want to make sure she's alright." Another familiar voice said. Matt.

"Of course she's not alright." Malcolm's voice was harder than I'd ever heard it.

"I know that," there was a loud sigh, "I'll just stay until she wakes up so I can talk to her myself."

"Today's not a good day for this Mark," there was a surprising amount of steel in his voice that had my eyes flickering open, "How about you come back another time?"

"It's Matt. Not Mark."

I forced myself into a sitting position in the bed, blinking around hazily. Malcolm's figure blocked out the hospital room door but I could still see hints of his light brown hair in the space between Malcolm's shoulder and neck.

"Matt's here?" I asked, voice a croak from the crying I'd done last night. Malcolm's shoulders tensed, but he didn't turn around.

"Call off your guard dog Kassie," Matt called. He tried to peek around Malcolm, a hint of a light blue eye before Malcolm shifted and it disappeared.

"Don't be rude, Matt," I said, my voice coming a little less rough now, "You don't have to block the door anymore, Malcolm. I'm awake now."

Malcolm shifted to the side, but just barely, so Matt was forced to squeeze through the door sideways. He threw another scowl at Malcolm before his eyes landed on me. His eyes bulged.

"Woah Kass, you look—" he winced, cutting himself off. Taking in the full extent of me in all my hospital glory. My hair felt matted on one side after the rough night of sleep I'd gotten last night, and I knew my eyes were swollen from the amount of crying I'd done.

"Like I almost died?" I supplied, dryly.

He blanched, rubbing his neck uncomfortably, "That's not what I meant."

I raised my eyebrows at him, waiting for him to continue.

He coughed, "I mean, you always look beautiful. You know that...even when—" another uncomfortable cough, "I guess what I'm trying to say is—I'm so happy you're okay. I'd just never seen you so—" he pulled a face, looking the most uncomfortable I'd ever seen him in my life.

Malcolm and I shared a bewildered look.

I knew I wasn't looking my best—who wouldn't look a little run down after being in the hospital all day yesterday and crying most of the night? Still, my ego was taking a bit of a beating from this. I peeked down at my hospital gown-clad torso. Everything was covered as far as I could tell. I'd seen my reflection when the nurse had helped me get to the adjoining bathroom. I looked rough, no one would deny that, but I didn't look bad enough for this.

I subtly attempted to smooth down a few of the strands I could feel sticking up on the sides, but my fingers immediately got stuck on a snarl and I gave it up as a lost cause.

Malcolm, who was leaned a little too casually against the door frame to my hospital room, took a hand out of his pocket to shoot a discreet thumbs up in Matt's direction,"You're off to a great start, Mike. Keep talking and you'll be sure to fix this buddy." He peered at us through eyes slit with laughter reveling in the extreme levels of awkwardness rocketing through the room.

I sent Malcolm as much of a glare as I could muster. Though still fighting exhaustion, my face landed and stuck somewhere on a grimace. A grimace that only deepened when my eyes landed on the flowers hanging from Matt's hand—what had to be five dozen red roses hung at his side.

No. Oh no. Please, don't let this be what I think this is.

Unable to tear my eyes away from the flowers, I said, "Malcolm, can you give us a minute alone?" I was deeply impressed by how calm I managed to sound, while internally alarm bells were blaring.

Malcolm didn't respond, but I knew he had left when the door to my room clicked closed behind him.