Page 77 of Breaking Matt
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ilayon my side in my bed with the covers up to my chin. The room was dark but I wasn't alone.
He hadn't left me, not once. When he'd tried to leave the room when the doctor had checked me over, I'd become hysterical. Even my parents couldn't make me feel the safety he did.
He sat watching me in the nearby chair.
"Sleep, Sarah," he said as he shifted slightly in his seat. He looked uncomfortable but I was too selfish to tell him I would be okay on my own.
I closed my eyes and tried to keep them shut but the memory of the driver aiming the gun at me made me open my eyes. There was no way I would be able to drop off to sleep on my own so when the doctor had offered me sleeping tablets I had taken them.
The sound of a gunshot echoed through the mist. It was dark and I struggled to see anything in front of me. The mist was damp and cold.
Tires squealed and I stood, still trying to get my bearings. My heart began to speed up as I looked around but I was unable to see anything. Fear took over in an instant. Something bad was going to happen.
You'll be okay,I kept repeating to myself.Don't be afraid.
The mist in front of me began to clear. A man without any features wearing sunglasses held a gun loosely at his side.
"Please, don't." There was no doubt what his intention was. "Please."
In a flash he lifted the gun and shot me without any hesitation. Pain exploded in my stomach and I faltered. My hand went to my stomach and I touched the blood seeping into my shirt.
That moment I woke up with a start, frantic. My hand went to my stomach and there was no bullet wound or blood.
"It's just a dream," a familiar voice soothed. Hands touched mine in the darkness and I made a move to pull away before I realized it was Matthew.
Feeling rattled by the remnants of the dream, I gripped his shirt in my hands.
"It felt so real," I whispered, still trying to calm myself down. My one hand released his shirt to soothe over my stomach to reassure myself I hadn't been shot.
Feeling vulnerable I began to cry, unable to separate the emotions from my nightmare. It had felt so real.
"Shhh," he soothed as the bed dipped beside me. His strong arms enveloped me, making me feel safe and protected.
I let out a trembling breath, trying to release the fear from my nightmare. I leaned closer, closing my eyes as a few more tears escaped, dampening his shirt. The familiar smell of him reassured my senses. He released a heavy breath before he got into the bed beside me. I lay carefully beside him, making sure not to touch his healing gunshot wound.
"Does it still hurt?" It was a stupid question—of course it still hurt. It had only been just over a week.
"It's fine," he said stiffly. I closed my eyes when I felt the wave of guilt. There was no taking it back. I had made the decision with his wellbeing in the foremost of my mind and if I were faced with the same situation I would do it again.
I lay as close as I could to him without intertwining our bodies. This was about feeling protected and he was the only person who made me feel that way. And after my horrific day, I allowed myself to cling to him.
I promised myself it would just be for the night. When the sun rose the next morning I would have the strength to keep my distance from him like I had intended.
I breathed Matthew in, taking comfort in the familiar smell of him. He didn't hold me close like he would have before. Despite the near-death experience, we weren't back to where we had been before. Despite our physical closeness the emotional valley between us was a reminder of the betrayals that had pulled us apart.
Listening to the sound of his heart beneath my ear, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the fact that despite the shooting and the car chase, we were both alive and, for this moment, together. Tomorrow it would be different.
Even now as we lay together things were not the same.
I don't know if it was the tablets or just being with Matthew but I drifted to sleep. Sometime later I woke up with a start, sitting up in the bed.
The space where Matthew had been was empty and I looked around the room. He was sleeping in the chair with his long legs straightened in front of him, crossed at the ankles.
The memories of the nightmare still held me firmly in its grasp and it took me a few minutes to assure myself it had only been a dream and that I was safe in my bedroom.
I shoved my hair out of my face as I tried to even my breathing, clutching the sheet close to my chest while I tried to sort through my thoughts. The slight throb in my wrist reminded me how close I had come to death the day before. It was wrapped up tight. The doctor had assured me it had just been badly bruised.
