∂εғιηε ∂εsιяε

Returned

A/N: Whew! My back is aching like something awful! Who knew writing could cause so much pain, Haha! Alright, here's another chapter for you all. I hope you like it!

-Blakeley

{ UNEDITED }

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It's been eleven hours - eleven hours since I passed out,woke up, and was locked in my room from the outside.

Yes, you heard me. Freaking. locked. in.

Aria had no remorse in caging me inside my room like a locked up animal while they tended to the injured Abe who has been screaming so loud I could hear him two floors up. My tears have ceased in those hours but my heart still hammers in my chest at the thought of him hurting and me not being there to comfort him.

Though the first thing I thought I might do was tear Aria apart for keeping me away from him, but in the end, I knew Abe was my first priority.

After tosses furniture over, digging through drawers, and ripping apart the closet and gaining no success in finding something to get me out of this cage-like room, I curled in a ball against the door, tears leaking through my eyes for what seemed like hours before drying against my cheeks and the corner of my eyes.

I found no sleep, it was impossible. My mind was thoroughly set on seeing Abe and making sure he was ok; that he was safe.

So, the minute the lock clicked free, I was running through the door like a bull on crack. I first found Hugo, interrogated him on where Abe was, and than bolted for the room they had disposed him in so he could rest.

The creaking of the door as I entered made me inwardly cringe, one side of my brain worried I'd wake him up but the other not even caring, just worried that he might be in seriously bad condition.

But to my utter shock, when I entered the room, fully prepared for a sight of gruesome injuries and gory surgery utensils that were used to operate on his grim body, I saw not one wound on his body.

He lay, bare chested on a cleanly furnished bed, the sheets pulled up just above his abdomen and eyes closed. His face looked peaceful, as if he was just taking a nap. Though, when I say I didn't see any injuries, I meant UNOPENED injuries.

One single scar run across his chest, starting from his left shoulder and ending somewhere beneath the covers I can't see.

But I have a feeling this wasn't a new injury.

The first thought that came to mind was his father and how he could have possibly done something so awful. But then, as I thought about it, the injury looked as if it could have been deep enough to kill. And if that was the case, he couldn't have been human when it happened.

I pull up a stray chair so it's right next to his bed. My fingers slowly raise until they'e brushing stray strands of his dark hair from his closed eye lids. How I wish I could see those steel gray orbs. Though my conscious keeps reminding me that his chest is rising and falling, that he's alive and breathing, I won't be content until the words leave his lips.

I take a deep breath, the fear I've been feeling for the past hours I've been awake and curled against the door slowly started to drift away as I clutch his hand in mine softly.

He's ok. He's ok. He's ok.

I repeat the words in my head over and over again, trying to persuade myself that he's ok and everything's going to be fine.

But I won't believe anything until he opens his eyes. Until he's staring right back at me. Not until he speaks, moves, yells, anything. He has to do something other than lay motionless on a bed that resembles the 1800's.