Beyond the Rift ✔ (Completed)

Chapter 36: About Time

The morning sun shines mildly over the parking lot. The day is blue-washed and hazy. The air; tender and meek. The trees stand silently in the forest area, while, birds are quiet in their nest; the young ones inaudibly nudge closer to their mother. Not a soul is to be seen on the deserted road outside our motel. Mornings are supposed to be joyful and full of colors; out there in the wilderness. But, today seems different.

I sigh as I turn away from the distressed view. Maybe looking out the window wasn't a good idea. It gave me another reason to be down. My body aches as I sit on the chair across the bed. I glance at his face. His eyes are closed; his breathing rhythmic. He sleeps soundly, tucked under the covers. After everything that happened last night, no one will be able to recover easily from the trauma.

I recollect the events. Right before I could hurt the Qareen, Nick knifed her through the chest, causing her to blast into a white explosion and vanish. Leaving behind nothing but a puff of grey smoke and a gleaming red crystal. The Red Beryl Crystal. It was exactly like the one I had seen in my nightmares; blood red. We had finally done it; we found the red beryl, but at a cost. Ethan was heavily injured. I, as in, the Qareen who had taken my form, had bashed Ethan like a pinata. His injuries were healed by Nick, who assured us, that, Ethan will be standing on his feet in no time. All he needed was a few hours of sleep. He has been unconscious since then.

It is extremely rare to watch Ethan passive and relaxed in his bed. He is always on edge; his guard never down. I was under the influence that he only cared about his mission. Nevertheless, he was just being nonchalant.

Maybe I said that out loud. Because, the very next minute, Ethan shifts in his bed. A low grunt leaves his lips. Is he okay?

"Ethan?" I call out as I stand up and approach him.

He relaxes for a second, before he starts breathing heavily. His fists clench. Is he having some kind of a seizure? My heartbeat quickens as I try to wake him up. I tap on his bare arm.

"Ethan!"

In a flash, his eyes fly open. Instantly, he sits upright in the bed, he clutches the sheets, as if he were in pain or experiencing a flashy nightmare.

"Ethan?" I take a seat across him; his eyes shut close, muscles tense. What if he is experiencing one of his power strokes? The one where his essences get out of control.

"Hey! Open your eyes!" I cup his face with both my hands, forcing him to look up at me. I feel knots twist in the pit of my stomach. He is covered in cold sweat. His pulse raging speedily. I can hear his heart pounding. I can't tell if it's his wounds that is causing the uneasiness or the catharsis.

Abruptly, he freezes, so do I. Did I do something?

There is stillness for a split second. His eyes open dreamily and he looks at me. His hazels appear tired and watery, as if he has not slept in days. There are dark circles outlining his lower eyelids. His complexion is as pale as a ghost. I glance at his scar across his left eyebrow. I always wonder, where he got that from. My eyes involuntarily travel to his lips; there is a small cut across his pale bottom lip.

My breath hitches and I realize, my face is too close to his. I immediately back off and shift at the foot of the bed.

Clearing my throat, I rub my palms together. Our eyes meet and I feel the heat rush to my ears.

Ethan doesn't notice my embarrassment and gets out of the bed.

"Where are we?" His voice is hoarse, with a hint of drowsiness.

"Back at the motel." I promptly reply as I follow him. His walk is wobbly as he approaches the sink. He stands facing the mirror. All the while, his head hung low, hands resting on the rim of the basin. "We checked in for 3 days, remember?" I try to make a conversation. But he doesn't reply.