Part 3 Ch.21

Carson came back an hour ago, he checked up on me and went back to the living room. I can here the television from here but I'm pretty sure he's fallen asleep. I get up, the room moves for a whole minute and I walk slowly out of the room, leaning on the walls when I can. I clutch on to the first-aid kit. I'm pretty sure my bandages need changing. There's another door in front of me, it's slightly ajar and I breath out in relief when I see that it's the bathroom. Further on, I see the kitchen and living room. The steps between Carson's room and the bathroom are tricky because I have nothing to lean against. My face has already broken out in sweat by the time I quietly close and lock the bathroom door. After I'm done, I flush and go to wash my hands. I'm startled by the face in the mirror. My hair is a mess, the last time I've brushed it was almost a week ago. And the dark half-circles under my eyes makes my skin seem even paler than it's normal brown color. I have the urge to clean up and take a bath and I debate for a second. The hospital clothes I wear are starting to smell and I know I won't be comfortable with them. I start by slowly taking my shirt off inch by inch. I hiss in pain every time the skin stretches. Then I unwrap the bandages that circle my wrists and move on to the ones on my torso. When I see the wound I smile, it's already starting to heal. Dried blood crusts around the edges where the doctors sewed it up. Carson told me that it was a relatively simple operation, as no organs were majorly damaged. I take the rest off and turn on the shower. Before I'm about to get in, I hear a knocking. "Elenora are you taking a shower?" Through the door I hear the exasperation in his voice. "You can't get your bandages wet!" "It'll be fine." I call out over the sound of the water, my eyes fall to the dirty clothes on the floor. "Carson?" "Yeah?" "Do you have any old clothes I could borrow?" There's a pause. "Yeah, I'll get you some." "Thanks." I hear him mumble something but don't catch the words. When I'm done, I begin to redress my wounds and run my fingers through my wet hair. I slowly crack open the door. On the floor there are some neatly folded clothes. I look down the hall but don't see him, and quickly snatch them. He's given me sweats and a loose shirt, I'm surprised by how comfortable they are. I throw the old clothes in the trash. I feel human again, I can't believe how good it feels to be clean. I stop when I see him in his room, he's in his pajamas, leaning against his nightstand looking at the news. He's cleaned the room and made the bed; I feel guilty for leaving such a mess. He finally notices me and turns. "You look better." "I feel better." I pause. "I never got to thank you. All I did was yell at you, I'm sorry about that. You've...you've saved my life." He shrugs, somewhat embarrassed. "You would have done the same for me." There's a lump in my throat and I don't trust myself to speak. It's the way he said it-with an absolute conviction; he has no doubts that I would have gotten him out of there but I'm not so sure. His attention is back on the news. They're talking about me, apparently they still have no leads. I look at him again and see that he's frowning. "Trevor, my partner, is getting suspicious. He asked me about you, I don't think he believes that I don't know a thing. I caught him following me from work to the grocery store. We need to be careful." "I think I should leave soon." I tell him. "Every second I spend here is a second they could discover what you've done." He shakes his head firmly. "No. You need to recover. I'm sure the Ravagers will be after you the second you're back. I don't know how it works with the Yellow Thorns but whoever is in charge now, I'm sure they'll do everything to keep it that way." He's wrong about Paxton but right about the Ravagers. The Costa family must be furious with me. "You could still leave, you know." He continues. "Get away from this city." "I know, but I won't." He sighs. "I knew you'd say that." I make my way to the chair besides the bed and sit down. I can already feel sleep trying to pull me down; I can't believe how weak I am, it frustrates me. "It would have been easier for you if I was the hero of this story, wouldn't it?" I tell him. He half smiles. "Every villain is a hero in their own minds." I raise an eyebrow. "So I'm the villain now?" "I don't want you to be a hero or a villain, I just want you to be you." I don't say anything. He says that like there is someone else I could be. Carson turns the television off and rubs his eyes. "You should go to sleep." I tell him. "Don't you have a night shift tonight too?" He nods. "Sheriff Newman is furious at your escape. But there are no leads." He grins tiredly. "I guess in another life, I would have been an amazing criminal. Definitely better than you." I have to laugh at that, and immediately wince. "Doubtful." "Don't be so sure." He moves across the room to close the curtains, the daylight from outside is mostly covered by the thick curtains. After a moment, he gets into bed. My face heats up and I'm suddenly glad the room is dim enough. "What are you doing?" He lets out a laugh. "Going to sleep." I blink. "I am too. You're in my way. Move over." He does but chuckles. I glare at his direction as I lay on the bed. I see a lump outlined in the other side of the bed. "What?" He's silent for a second then laughs again. "What is it." "If you wanted to get into bed with me, I think the proper etiquette is to buy me dinner first." I turn to my good side, careful to not move the bandage too much. "Seriously? How old are you? Ten?" He laughs again, I can hear his sleepiness through it. "That was a good one, admit it." I close my eyes. "There's nothing to admit because that sucked." He mumbles a retort but I'm too tired to respond. I fall asleep quickly, for the first time in a long time, feeling completely safe. 0~0~0 My eyes snap open and I jolt up. "Relax." I hear Carson's sleepy voice somewhere in the darkness. "It's just the alarm." He turns it off. Besides me, I feel him shift on the bed as he stands up. I'm glad for the darkness, it helps hide my flushed face. There's absolutely no light, except the soft green glow that comes from the electronic clock next to me. In the darkness, I hear Carson shift around. No doubt putting on his work clothes. Even if I can't see him, I avert my gaze and focus on the clock. The date on it tells me that the last time I saw Paxton was eight days ago- more than long enough for him to already begin the power shift to his control. I try to think of something else. "How the hunt going?" I finally ask him. Somewhere by the window, he pauses then continues dressing. "Good. Well, good for us but bad for the OCIU. They have no leads yet." There's something in his voice that seems off. "But?" "My partner. I think he's suspicious, at at least thinks that something is up." I scowl. "Get a new partner. He's too dangerous." "I know. But if I do it right now, it will only raise suspicious. I'll wait until all this dies down." I hear him approach me and all of a sudden the light is on in the dresser next to me. He's all dressed up in his black uniform, and still hasn't put on his mask. "How's your wound?" "Better." There's a flash of guilt on his face and he nods. "Good. Are you hungry?" "Yeah." I start to get up. "I'll help you." He puts a hand on my shoulder. I try to ignore it. "What you need to do right now is rest and let it heal." I smile. "It'll heal whether I'm standing up or sitting down. Let me help." "Do you ever listen?" He says, trying not to smile. "Fine." Fifteen minutes later, I'm watching him make breakfast as I sit on the stool in the kitchen. It turns out that while I've been busy learning important skills such as shooting accurately under pressure, I haven't paid much attention in perfecting the art of cooking--something that Carson quickly figured out when I burned the first egg. So for now, I'm content in watching him make the food. "You could have become a chef." I note. I see his back shake as he laughs. "I'm literally just putting salt on the eggs. It's not difficult, Elenora. It's basic life skills." "Basic life skills." I scoff. "Making breakfast isn't a basic life skill. Now, knowing how to kill a man with your bare hands..." I laugh at the face he makes. "Come on. That was funny." He shakes his head and turns back around. But he didn't turn around fast enough, I could see his smile. Soon enough, the food is ready. The smell of food fills the kitchen, by the time he's finished I'm getting sleepy once more. The wound is healing better now, it doesn't hurt as much as it used to- but the only downside is sleeping a lot. We talk about nothing important but it doesn't feel like a waste of time or even remotely boring. It just feels like living. I don't need life and death situations to make me appreciate life. This here is enough.