“I wish I could touch you. I need to touch you.”
Lia stepped to one side and shoved the table back a little with her hip. She positioned herself so that her leg was right in front of my hand.
I reached out and wrapped my fingers around her thigh. Sitting up and leaning forward, I pressed the side of my face against her stomach. The touch of her fingers on the back of my neck and scalp as she cradled my head to her body was alarming. The warm, dark feeling of near unconsciousness from lack of sleep seeped into me again, replacing the fog, but I pushed it off as I inhaled her familiar scent and let the emotions cover me.
She saw me.
She saw me like that—rifle in hand, firing at strangers in a park. She saw me in cuffs, being hauled away like a deranged lunatic.
I was a deranged lunatic.
My body started shaking, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. It all came out as I pressed my face against her belly and let go—allowing the shaking to turn into sobbing. The haunted looks of those I had killed just before my bullet entered their brains, the bodies of my unit as I was taken prisoner, the sounds of those who begged me to show mercy.
I never did.
“It wasn't always this way,” I cried into her shirt. “I wasn't supposed to be like this.”
“What happened?” I heard her whisper.
I shook my head from side to side, still pressing tightly against her body. Though there was a little part of me that might have wanted to go for full disclosure—everything from my profession to the slaying of the woman I slept with—most of me wasn’t anywhere near that stupid. Even in my current state, I wasn’t going to say anything to make her run screaming from the room. That was what she would have done if I had told her everything.
No doubt about it.
Without the ability to tell her all of it, I had to go with the basic, high-level view of the situation.
“I can’t…I can’t sleep,” I finally said.
“Why not?”
“The dreams.”
“Tell me what you dream about,” she said softly.
I turned my head to gaze up at her. I didn’t know what I saw there, but I knew it wasn’t just morbid curiosity or nosiness.
“I was a POW,” I told her.
She nodded, and there was no surprise contained within her eyes.
“I know,” she replied. “I read about it. Is that what you dream about?”
“Most of the time,” I said. Flashes of Bridgett’s body on the ground flickered in my brain, and I bit down on my lip to stop myself from blurting it out. “I usually dream about being tied up and shoved into a hole in the ground. And the sand. Just constant, fucking sand.”
“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”
I shrugged and shook my head. I had no idea.
“I can’t sleep by myself,” I said. “It’s been…a while.”
“By yourself?” Lia asked. “But you can sleep if someone is with you?”
Whirling nausea swirled in my stomach. I hadn’t meant to say anything about it at all, and now she was likely to press for a better answer. What would I even tell her? I do my best sleeping after a little anal with a hooker? Oh, by the way, I might have shot her when the mood struck me.
How about a nice night on the town?
“I guess,” I said quietly. My heartbeat pounded in my temples as I started to sweat due to the energy it was taking not to tell her what happened.
Lia’s fingers trailed slowly over the side of my face.
“If I was with you, would you be able to sleep?”
The feeling that came over me at the very idea could have easily knocked me to the floor if I hadn’t already been secured to the metal chair. My fingers tightened on her thigh as the reality of the situation hit me.
If I had just held out another day—maybe even another hour—I could be sleeping with her right now. I could be in my bed with Lia in my arms and Odin making disgusting saliva trails on my arm when I overslept.
I’d fucked it all up.
“Shit…shit…shit…”
“Evan!”
“So fucked up…”
“I know,” she said with a rush of air from her lungs. “It’s as fucked up as anything ever has been.”
“It’s worse,” I responded. I squeezed my eyes shut and considered biting down on my tongue.
There’s a rush of blood into my throat just after a sharp blow to my chin causes me to bite down on my tongue. For a moment I think I’m choking on my own blood, but once I manage to swallow, I can breathe again. My tongue throbs in my mouth…
“Evan?”
As my thoughts were interrupted, my lungs started screaming at me to fill them up with some air before I passed out face-first on the table. I tried to inhale but couldn’t and started to panic.
The blood in my mouth mixes with the sand as I’m thrown back to the ground, and for a moment I am choking on it…
“Evan, stay with me.”
“Can’t breathe.”
“Calm, baby.” Her fingers traced the edge of my jaw. “Just listen to my voice, and take a slow breath.”
I wanted to listen to her badly enough that I forced my diaphragm to flex and pull air into my lungs in a sharp gasp.
“It’s okay.” Lia’s voice pulled me from the panic the same way it had managed to pull me from the memory. “It’s all right, Evan… You’re all right.”
With nearly violent effort, I inhaled again. The act itself nearly made me fall out of the chair. I wondered if it was the restraints or Lia’s touch that was keeping me from landing on the floor. After a few more tries and a lot of focus on her skin against mine, I managed to start breathing normally again.
“Where did you go?” Lia’s fingers continued to run from my temple to my chin.
“Back there,” I responded. I swallowed past the growing tightness in my throat before continuing. “When they first tried to put me in the hole, I’d struggle. It was stupid—there were too many of them to fight.”
“But you kept trying.”
“For a while.” I nodded. “Eventually, I figured out there wasn’t any point. Once I didn’t respond that way anymore to whatever they were doing, they’d try to come up with other ways to get a reaction out of me.”
“Shit,” Lia whispered as her arms tensed. “You were there a long time, too.”
I could only nod. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to keep the memories shoved to the back of my mind, but I was really too tired for such an act of will. They were going to be back—with force. My hands began to shake uncontrollably, and I gripped Lia’s thigh a little harder.
“Evan, it will be all right.” Her voice echoed around the small room. “We'll figure it out. I'll help you figure it out.”
I laughed. It was hollow and without humor.
“Figure it out,” I repeated sarcastically. “I shot up my neighborhood park. I'm going to prison. I should go to prison.”
Her hand stroked the top of my head.
“We'll figure something out,” she said again. “I don't know what that is yet, but there has to be something.”
“Can’t think,” I told her. “Can’t think when I can’t sleep.”
“You have to sleep.”
“No.” I shook my head against her body. “It’s too much—too real.”
The door across the room opened abruptly, and Mark Duncan stepped in.
“Were you serious about your offer?” he said immediately to a confused Lia.
She shook her head, her look quizzical.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to admit I’m a little anxious to see how much this helps. Evan hasn’t slept more than a few minutes at a time in the past two days, and I believe it’s largely to blame for his breakdown.”
Breakdown. Is that what it was?
“Who are you?” Lia finally asked.
Mark shook his head like Odin does when he gets a bath.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Antonio.” He extended
his arm, and I flinched as Lia’s touch left my skin briefly to shake his hand. “I’m Mark Duncan, Evan’s psychologist. I’ve been observing both of you through the monitor. I assume you are the young lady Evan has spoken to me about.”
I’d said nothing to him about Lia as far as I could remember. Not that my memory was all that great, but I had a pretty good idea he was really thinking of Bridgett. I hadn’t told him much during the few sessions we had actually had, but he had guessed that the person I was sleeping with was a hooker, and I hadn’t denied it. I tensed, unsure about what else he might say.
If he called Lia a prostitute, I was going to rip off the chains and beat him to death with them.
Apparently, the doctor-patient privilege still held because he said nothing else about it.
“I want to help,” Lia confirmed. “What do you want me to do?”
“Sleep with him.”
Her eyes narrowed a little, and her hand stilled against my cheek.
“Where?” she asked.
“Here,” Mark said. “Visitors aren’t allowed in the cell units, so there isn’t any other place, and this is a bit of a desperate situation. He’s in serious danger if he doesn’t get proper sleep. I can see what I can do to make it more comfortable.”
Lia looked around the room while I tried to make sense of what Mark was suggesting. I wasn’t successful; it was too hard to keep track of what was going on around me in my present state of mind. Inferred reasoning wasn’t going to happen.
Thankfully, Lia spelled it all out.
“You want me to just…what? Lie down with him on the floor so he can sleep? Do you really think that will work?”
“If he could get some sleep with you here, it could change everything. Right now I can’t reach him at all—he’s too disoriented. To be perfectly frank, there is a very real possibility of further psychosis or even death.”
“Death?”
“In extreme cases of insomnia, yes,” Mark confirmed. “I need to know if you’re serious about your suggestion. Are you willing to help him?”
“Of course I want to help him.” Lia’s tone was one of annoyance.
Mark moved toward the guard and pointed from the guard’s keychain to where I sat.
“Remove Mister Arden’s restraints.”
The guard let out a sharp burst of laughter, and Mark eyed him.
“I’m not jesting here.”
“You are as nutty as your patients, then, doc,” the guard replied. “There is no way that loon is getting out of his cuffs. He’d probably kill you first.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mark waved a dismissive hand.
I might have felt a little bad for my shrink. He wanted to help. I knew he did, but he really didn’t know what he was dealing with. It wasn’t his fault. It’s not like I could tell him what I did for a living.
“You’re an idiot,” the guard snapped back.
“I’m not here to discuss or argue this with you,” Mark said. “Release Mister Arden from the cuffs, please.”
“You have no idea who this guy is, do you?” the guard growled.
Mark looked up at him and tilted his head.
“What do you mean by that?” he asked.
For the first time since he called me lieutenant, the fat, uniformed guard grabbed my attention.
Fuck no.
My eyes turned to the guard, and I tried to gather whatever energy I had inside of me to give him a slight idea of what would happen to him if he spoke a word. As I raised my eyebrows ever so slightly, I conveyed a clear message with my gaze.
Don’t even fucking think about it.
He stared back at me with defiant eyes at first, but as I tilted my head slightly, he must have received the message. His eyes widened, and he took a slight step back—like I had pushed him with a look. He glanced from me to Mark and then let out a breath through his nose. He reached up and ran his hand over the top of his bald head.
“Why don’t any of the guards have any hair?”
“What?” Lia glanced down at me and palmed my cheek.
“I don’t know,” I replied. I didn’t, either. None of what was happening made sense to me—it was all too clouded and confusing.
“I can’t do that without written authority from-”
Mark cut off the guard by waving a piece of paper in his face.
“I already had it cleared.”
He looked to the floor and let out another long breath.
“Yes, sir,” the guard said as he walked over and slipped the key into the lock around my wrist. He did my right wrist first and then waited for Lia to step aside so he could do the left. He moved silently back to his post next to the door and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched me intently.
Lucky for him, I still wasn’t in much of a killing mood because otherwise I would have been seriously pissed off. I was focused enough on the guard, I didn’t realize Mark had walked out until he came back in again, holding a couple of blankets in his arms.
“Sorry, but this was the best I could do on short notice,” Mark said. “Hopefully, it will be enough to get you back on your feet again, so to speak.”
“Does he have to stay here?” Lia asked as she nodded her head toward the guard.
“I’m afraid so,” Mark replied. “It would probably be in everyone’s best interest anyway.”
“Well, let’s do this, then.” Lia reached out and took my hand. She led me to the side of the room furthest from the guard and laid out the small blanket on the cement floor. Then she removed her coat and laid that down on top of it before she sat down with her back against the wall. She beckoned me, and I sat down beside her.
“Lay down,” she said.
I stared at her against the wall. It felt wrong, but I wasn't sure why. I started to lie down beside her, but it still didn't feel right, so I sat back up and shook my head a bit. I didn’t know what was wrong, and I couldn’t even find any words that would have made any sense. I didn’t need to, though—Lia knew without me saying a word.
"Do you want to be against the wall?" Lia asked.
I let out a breath that had been burning in my chest. She moved forward, and I half crawled, half fell into the area between her and the wall. Lia stretched out beside me as soon as I was in position, and I wrapped my arm around her waist to bring her closer to me.
She was here against my body again after so long. The thought increased the dizziness in my head but also sent the most incredible sense of relief through my mind. The nausea of fatigue continued to assault me, but at least she was here.
It was too bright in the small room, and the setting wasn’t at all comfortable. Still, I was far too mentally and physically exhausted to care very much. Despite the tiredness, my entire body lay tensed between the cement wall and the woman in front of me.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
I could only shake my head as my fingers gripped the fabric of her shirt. Her fingers moved up my cheek and over the side of my head, stroking slowly until my fingers against her back began to match the same rhythm. I sighed, and my hand moved down the fabric of her shirt until it found the hem.
With two fingers, I pushed the shirt up a bit and found her bare skin below. Another long breath and none of the discomfort of the rough blanket, the cold floor, or the situation itself mattered any longer. I placed my head against her shoulder as that fuzzy feeling crept over me. I closed my eyes and tried to let go.
Despite the blanket, the floor was cold, and the buttons on Lia’s coat were pressing uncomfortably against my arm as she covered me with it. I shifted up, tucked my face into the space between her neck and shoulder, and shivered.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “You’re going to be okay.”
I took another long, shuddering breath and seemed to melt further against her.
“Now I am.”
My eyes closed.
It didn’t take long.
At least, it didn’t feel like a very long time. I w
oke sweating with the taste of sand in my mouth and dryness in my throat that kept me from screaming out loud. My heart raced, but before I could move, I felt Lia’s warm hand against the side of my face and heard her voice.
“I’m right here,” she whispered. “I promise—I’m not going anywhere.”
My grip on her tightened a bit, as did hers on me, and my fingers found their way against the skin of her back again. With my eyes closed and my forehead pressed against her shirt, I slipped back into slumber.
This time, whatever dreams I had weren’t enough to wake me. As I regained consciousness, I could immediately feel the difference even before opening my eyes. The fog was gone and so was the dizziness. My head still throbbed, but the beat was slower and the intensity less.
I could think again.
More importantly, I could feel Lia all around me.
Her scent covered me—relaxed me. I could hear her slow breaths, which further calmed me. Her fingers tugged gently through the strands of hair just behind my right ear, and it was as if each stroke over my scalp was removing pieces of the pain, the guilt, and the damage inside my brain.
I could have stayed right there—cold floor be damned—for the rest of my life. The scent of her electrified me. The touch of her fingers soothed me. The length of her body pressed against mine excited me.
I moved my hand a little farther up her back and caressed her skin with my fingers before I turned my head and looked up at her. Her dark eyes met mine, and I pulled air into my lungs to speak.
“Hey.” It wasn’t much, but it was probably better than I had managed before sleeping.
“Hey, yourself,” Lia replied. “You’ve been out a while now. I was afraid I’d have to move in here.”
“Fuck no,” I said. “No way would I let anyone put you in here.”
There must have been a little more venom in my voice than I had intended because Lia shrank back a bit.
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “It’s just…this place is…well, it sucks. Let’s leave it at that.”
“I think that’s part of the deal, yes.”
The door clicked as it opened, and Mark Duncan peered around the corner of the frame to look at us.