Flames of the Forgotten

Chapter Twelve

The foggy veil of sleep slowly lifts, and I can smell something—food. It smells delicious, like maybe beef stew or something. I am so warm and toasty—almost too warm—but I'm not willing to give up the comfort of my blanket just yet. The nightmares that plagued me are long gone, and I find myself somewhere in my memories' past. I imagine my mom will come in to check on me at any moment.

She must be making me soup. Am I sick?

I part my dry, chapped lips and call for her as my mind slowly wakes up.

"Mom?"

"Sam, you awake?"

Not my mom's voice.

It all comes back in a rush as if someone doused me with cold water. The blood on the walls, the bones, being chased by those wolves...

"Jackson." My voice is hoarse as I sit up, and Jackson is already standing at my side. He hands me my jar of water, and I sip it slowly as I come to my senses.

We're in my cabin, and I see the pot of stew on the wood burner. Steam is coming from the top, so he must've added water. The squash that nearly got us killed is roasting whole in the fire. My kitchen table is back inside the cabin, and my backpack sits on it. Jackson must've brought it back inside.

"What happened?" I ask after another swallow of water to soothe my parched throat.

"You passed out. I think it was shock, but...I don't know. You might be hurt from when you fell." He sounds worried and looks it, too.

I feel a sharp pain in my lower back and groan as I stretch.

"Let me see how bad it is," he murmurs. "Can you sit on the edge of the bed?"

I scoot up to the edge of the bed and angle my body so my back is to him.

"I have to–" He lifts the hem of my shirt a little, and I nod my consent.

He gently pulls it up, and as he does, I cover my bra with my arm even though he can't see from his position. 

He draws in a sharp breath when my back is exposed.

"Is it bad?"

"Yeah, it's bruising already, and some areas are swollen." He lightly touches my middle back, and I jump, surprised at the touch.

"Did that hurt there?" he asks, pulling back as fast as he touched me. I instantly miss the warmth of it. 

"No, it didn't hurt," I stammer as my cheeks flush. "It just surprised me."

Put it back! I scream silently.

He does. He very lightly traces my middle back with his fingertips, and the heat from his fingers sends a rush of warmth through my body.

"I just need to know how bad it's inflamed. Can I press down a little harder?"

"Yeah, just not too hard," I say, biting my lips.

He slowly traces his fingertips down my back, pressing a little deeper. It feels pretty sore in some areas, but not terribly so. I'm enjoying Jackson's hands on me so much it's worth the pain. It's been so long without human contact.

He reaches a spot in the lower center of the small of my back, and I cry out from the sharp pain of it.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I think this is where the impact was." He lightens the pressure and continues slowly to trail his hands over my lower back. "Yeah... it's your tailbone. You bruised it badly. You'll need to stay in bed while it heals."