Paint Me Saved ✓ Book 1

10. Hold me in your thoughts

Leonardo 

A few hours ago

Fragile.

Her trembling legs and her quivering lips narrated the deep-seated truth of her vulnerability. She stood at the hotel entrance, the distant look in her ocean eyes gave the conformation that Zemira Ford was cracking under the weight of her sham.

The crowd chanted her name, inching towards her. For them, Zemira could do no wrong. Even with the security, Haley couldn't keep them away. The avalanche of people crashed threatened to crash through the barricades, engulfing everything in their way.

I had to act quickly. Leaving the engines on, I dashed through throngs of people. Haley helped, fusing my hand with Zemira's as I drew near.

"Thanks for coming." Her erratic words greeted me. "Leave through that exit," she said, pointing towards a smaller metal gate camouflaged by the garden shrubbery. "We'll manage the crowd."

Zemira's unresisting body was easy to navigate. I was tugging a feather-light being behind me.

"Try to move faster," I said but my words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Helpless.

She remained cemented with silence. I drove her back to her mansion but any attempt at conversation went in vain. She didn't move when I opened the door, neither did she look, her gaze fixed on her shoes.

"Let's go inside, Zem," I said but it wasn't Zemira who sat inside the car.

It was a shell I had picked up from the hotel. Her true form remained etched on the walls of the hotel room where she sat for the interview.

"Zemira, come on, we're home."

Still nothing.

Straining my back, I moved inside the car, peeling her off the seat. Lifting her in my arms, I moved inside, walking up the stairs.

Unlike my comrades, she was easy to carry. She wasn't oozing lifeblood into the fabric of my shirt, either. However, the urgency to get her help remained the same.

Numb.

When the pain reached a certain point, the human body would shut down. Although Zemira didn't suffer physical pain, a mental and societal affliction commanded her body.

Placing her on the bed, I cleared strands of raven-colored hair from her ashen face. Gradually, her hooded gaze shifted from the floor to my own face. Hurt danced at the horizon of her ocean blues eyes, brimming over.

I sat beside her, cupping her stoic face. "Zem, talk to me. Say something."

She continued with her unblinking stare, unable to break free from the past. The shock processing mechanism was different for everyone. For Zemira, it was embracing silence.

When I rose from her side, her airy words addressed me. She said something, too feeble to hear.

"Do you need something, Zem?" I asked. "Talk to me. Tell me you are mad, that you want to beat Anto up." I carefully sat again, the mattress dipping under my weight. "But for the love of God, please talk."

Another bout of her silence pricked me in a way that I didn't understand. Like an invisible string controlled my mind and body, I bent and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Every muscle in my body ached, every nerve restrained me as I turned to face the door. I wasn't what Zemira needed right now.

She needed peace. She needed people who cared for her.