Page 23 of The Villain

Naked.

My processing capability devolved into that of a four-year-old. Short strings of stark reality hitting me like bullets from a gun.Athena. Naked.

Rob turned and looked at me, and I wished I could disappear. I wished I hadn’t heard her—and more, I wished I wasn’t the one who had to agree to it. But I’d made myself the gatekeeper to Athena’s recovery, only deferring to Rorik when he was on the premises.

“Carefully,” I croaked, feeling like the executioner sending the guillotine for my own neck, and then left before I heard any more.

I’d made my bed—with the woman I’d once loved in it—and now I had to figure out how the hell to never sleep again.

Chapter Five

Athena

Doorframe. One step into…the bedroom. Three steps until…the bed. Two steps around—“Crap!” I let out a hiss of pain and sank to the floor, clutching my calf, which I’d just caught against the corner of the bed.

“Crap,” I repeated, defeatedly, and felt for the end of the bed. Carefully, I maneuvered so I could rest my back against it.

Steeling myself, I pressed my fingers to my ankle and slowly moved them higher until I reached the spot that triggered pain, and then I continued to probe and assess my newest injury. There was no wetness, so I hadn’t broken the skin. Unlike my poor big toe that I’d caught on the lip of the shower yesterday.

Thankfully, Rob had been there. With the water from the shower, I wouldn’t have even known I was bleeding everywhere if she hadn’t told me before carefully bandaging it up.

It had been four days since that first shower. An entire week since the explosion. And I was convinced I’d acquiredenough bruises to start a museum. A bang here. A tap there. The worst part was I didn’t go far—I didn’t have far to go.

In a matter of moments, my entire life had been whittled down to the space between a bed and a bathroom. In a safe house.

I thought back to nights when I was married to Brandon, when I would get up to use the bathroom and turn on the nightstand lamp. He hated that. My side of the bed was farthest from the bathroom with several obstacles in the way, but he didn’t care. The light woke him, and that was unacceptable, so after many trials and injuries, I’d learned to maneuver the path in darkness.

Ironically, that was what this felt like except there were no lights to turn on, and I was in darkness all the time.

Every morning, I felt my way to the bathroom, flicked on the light switch, and pulled off my eye mask. Every morning, I hoped that the flip of a switch would turn my vision on again, and every morning, all I saw was the same stretch of black.

They all assured me it would come back—along with my memory—but every day I stared into the darkness and cracked off a chunk of that hope.

The worst part was that my head felt better. There were still holes in my memory.And I still couldn’t see.But the pressure and headaches had decreased. The only time I took any of the pain medication from Dr. Nilsen was before bed to keep the throbbing pain away, and that was when Dare came and held my hand.

I didn’t know if it was him—I couldn’t be sure if it was anything more than a delusion from the meds or a consequence of the trauma to my brain. Or it could’ve simply been a fantasy I wanted to hold onto—the one good thing I looked forward to during the dark days.

Strong, warm fingers. A massive palm covering mine, firm and tender, assuring me he would protect me.

I would almost swear that hand had held mine every night since the explosion—even the ones I’d been unconscious or sedated for. But it all could’ve been the drugs.

And that was a small part of why I kept taking them—because I didn’t want to lose that hand to hold onto.My gorgeous guardian ghost.

“Get back up, Athena,” I murmured before I dwelled on the feel of his fingers all day.

I had big plans this afternoon. Big, walking-to-the-front-of-the-house plans.

I flattened my palms to the floor, my fingertips feeling the crease between the individual wood planks, and then pushed myself upright. This time, I reached one hand to the bed, exploring along the end and charting out the tip of the corner before navigating with cautious steps around it.

I’d only ventured to the front of the safe house when Rob was with me, but I couldn’t just sit back in bed and listen to music or another audiobook. I needed to be…up. I needed to move.

I needed to feel sunlight.

So, I did, at the pace of a snail. Around the corner of the bed, and then out straight until I felt the wall. From there, my fingers crawled like a spider until I found where it turned into the short hallway, and then I followed that all the way to the front room.

In my case, this safe house was more than a safe house. It was thesafesthouse because, aside from the bed and a chair I’d only heard move around, there wasn’t any other furniture in it. Rob had apologized for it, but I couldn’t understand why. No one lived here, why would the small house be filledwith furniture?

I gripped the corner of the wall like I was about to step off into the deep end. I’d only been out here once yesterday because I’d asked Rob for a walk—something more than the safe several feet between the bathroom and bed. She’d agreed, tucking my hand into her elbow, and we’d joked about how we were “taking a turn” about the room, like we were characters in an Austen novel rather than…whatever this twilight zone was.

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