Page 53 of Heal Me

I try to scan the place with my eyes, but they’re blurry. All I see is something bright. Sharp. It hurts.

Have I gone blind too?

A hand comes to my shoulder, and I try to scream. But even as the scream dislodges, all that comes out is a hoarse, wheezy sound, choking me with the horrific confrontation of my lost voice.

“Lavinia, you’re safe,” a deep, rough, but also soft voice says. A voice that instinctively calms me.

Terror still pulses in my veins as my sight slowly starts working, revealing flashes of a room. A window. I blink, realizing the thing that’s blinding me is the sun. A bright round orb of yellow staring at me through an open window.

I shake my head softly, the shock knocking me out of my paralysis. Then a new wave of fear comes rushing as I blink to take in the room. It’s simple but beautiful. Tall, arched ceilings, wooden panels, and a fireplace of white stone. But nothing good ever comes of beauty and riches. This is just a new version of hell.

I scream again, the hoarse wheeze reminding me of just how terrible this new hell is. I whip my head from side to side as the scream grows louder in my mind but never escapes into the room.

Two large hands grab my face, and then I’m staring up at the big, brutal man who had become my whole world. The familiar features snap me out of the panic. Then my eyes roam over his face. It feels like a strange dream seeing those features in daylight, surrounded by something that isn’t misery and confinement.

There’s a low whine at my other side, and I startle as something wet brushes my arm.

“Rex, out,” Dorin orders, and I look to see a flash of fur as a big dog runs out of the room.

Returning my attention to Dorin, I just stare at him, having no idea how to react.

A flood of emotion comes rushing as I realize he came back for me. I part my lips to ask one of the many questions suddenly swirling in my mind.Why did you come for me? Where are we? Where’s Zoltan? Am I safe? Are you keeping me?

But when I try to give voice to one of them, only air comes out. My world crashes again, the emotions gnawing and biting so hard I close in on myself, shutting down and shutting off. I stare out the window—at treetops rising in the distance, the blue sky, and the bright sun. I don’t consider why they’re there or how I came to be so close to them. I just stare at them and hold on fordear life, because they’re the only thing that will keep me from the spiraling agony of being alive.

35

DORIN

I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. When I had her in the tub and pressed that final kiss to her cheek, I lingered, unable to let go. A small twitch revealed that she was regaining consciousness. I tightened my grip on her, trying to will myself to apply that final burst of force that would snap her neck and grant her the peace she needed.

I thought I was about to do it, but then I was leaning out of the tub instead, ripping the syringe from my jeans pocket, and shoving it into her neck.

Everything from that moment on remains a blur. I can’t remember a single thought going through my mind as I lifted her out of the tub, cradling her close to my chest, and carrying her upstairs. I vaguely remember the sensation of staring eyes as I walked naked through the dungeon halls with sleeping beauty nestled in my arms. But I didn’t see who was watching. I didn’t see anything. Only her. The one person I couldn’t bear to lose.

As I lean back on the living room couch and watch the woman in my bed—tucked beneath my sheets, the warm sun caressing her golden locks—a flood of relief swooshes through me. I can’t believe how close I came to losing, no, getting rid of her. Twice.

I hate myself for it, with a vehemence that has me grabbing my switchblade and hovering the sharp edge above my skin.

Something I’ve never told anyone is that my father isn’t the only one to take credit for the many scars on my skin. I made some of them myself over the years when the rage and the chaos in my mind were at their worst. The pain of the knife slicing through my skin was the only release I could find. Often, I wanted to do what Lavinia attempted on that first night, but I never did find the strength to turn my wrist and slice right at those arteries.

Maybe that’s part of the reason I’ve been so drawn to her from the start. She possesses the strength I don’t have in myself. Being close to her gives me a taste of it, almost like it becomes my own.

Or maybe it’s her singing, which is the first non-violent thing to ever quieten the chaos in my mind. Or maybe her angelic appearance that makes me feel close to heaven—something that’s always been out of my reach. My father always told me I’d go to hell and would never see the sweet light of heaven. Seeing Lavinia’s beautiful light feels like defying him.

But no matter how much I hate myself and want to cut away the pain, I refrain. Because that sweet angel lying in my bed, still as broken and hollow as when I came back and found her broken and voiceless, needs me. I need to be strong.For her.

It’s been two weeks since I brought her up here. She’s doing better than when I took her from her cell and thought I was going to kill her. But better is far from good.

Waking up in my room, seeing the sun, and the open space around her seemed to nudge her out of her empty shell. But she withdrew straight back into it. The change of scenery has done some good, though, beyond that first moment of clarity. I’ve been able to feed her and make her drink, and she even meets my eyes in short moments. But that’s as far as the improvement goes. All day long, she just lies there, staring out the window. She doesn’t even nod or shake her head when I ask a question.

Rex gives a slow whine from the bedroom door where he’s standing, watching her.

“Sorry, buddy. You can’t go in there.”

I’m not about to risk scaring her with a huge, curious dog sniffing at her and jumping onto the bed. Rex hates that he can’t go to her, but being the good boy he is, he remains just outside the door.

At first, I thought he hovered there because he was weary of the new presence in our quarters, but when I noticed the way he kept whining, I realized he was guarding her. Somehow, even from a distance, he senses that she needs protection. And he’s providing that fiercely. He even seems reluctant to leave for our morning runs, and the moment we get back, he rushes to the bedroom door to check on her.

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