Because favours are priced...
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"You have an insatiable desire for trouble Camille Sanders. You'll never just be satisfied. You're like me, too wild for the world."
I laugh at the outrageousness. "You're dramatic I'll give you that Michae...
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There comes a time, when a person is sure they are dying. This is the day. This is the moment. They say their goodbyes in advance, prepare their loved ones. And then, they head to the darkness, into that tunnel where you go alone, searching for light in the end.
That same annoying, blinding light is what you expect to see when you wake in a hospital room. Thankfully, someone was smart enough to leave only a bedside lamp on. My blinking eyes still burned at the income of air. I looked about the new room then, feeling the wires in my arm.
I found the dark haired boy asleep on a chair next to my bed, his hand only just entwined in mine. He was clearly having a bad dream, with his eyes rushing behind his eyelids and some incoherent mumbling coming out of his lips.
I blinked several times, but the image didn't change. So it was not a nightmare, or a dream. It was real, I thought looking at his fingers treaded with mine.
How come it felt unreal then?
"Michael?" my own voice was unrecognisable to me, low and rough, barely audible. But the boy wakes up startled. The hand holding mine, squeezes so I squeeze back in response.
His green eyes meet mine and widen in relief.
"Oh thank god you're awake." He gets up, pulling me into a cautious embrace. I blink surprised.
"I'm not...not china you know." I mumble, my voice hoarse. I was still shocked to see him here, beside me, caring about me after...
"Well," he lets go, placing my head gently back down on to the pillow, "You have several cuts on your face, and you needed stitches for the wound on your torso from the car crash. Your head had a gash as well. And on top of that you have bruises everywhere, from...him." He grits out.
I put my hand on his fist gripping the sheets tightly. "I'm fine."
"Yeah barely Camille. Barely."
"Shut up and," I take a ragged breath in, "give me some water."
He moves immediately at the request, holding the cup to my lips. I closed my eyes feeling the relief of water in my system. I cleared my throat.
I'm scared to ask about Isaac, about what he thinks...so I divert completely.
"H-How'd you find me?"
A small smile graces his face, and he reaches into his pocket. Then he pulls out a chain, the silver pendant hanging from it. "They had to take it off during surgery." He places it in my palm. "Isaac had a tracking chip installed in the necklace. Exactly for these kinds of situations."
Isaac. I want to ask him but I don't know how. So I gulp down the real questions.
"You mean you knew I would get kidnapped at some point?"
He shrugs, "Either that, or you'd do something reckless all by yourself. I had to be cautious." I blink at him, then look down. He was protecting me without me even knowing.
