The Secret Of Us

Chapter 2

A gentle, warm touch scorching my skin through the layers of fabric. Softness skimming across my throat, grazing the side of my neck. It was a pacifying, warm touch, one I hadn't felt since my mother's death. I sucked in a quivering breath as the warmth connected with the side of my face.

No one has touched me like this in years. Before I knew it, my fingers were instinctually reaching towards that comforting heat, craving its touch. Trapping the specter of warmth between my palms.

Sighing in satisfaction at the protective radiance that now curved over me, I opened my heavy eyes, registering a harsh reign of darkness around me. Through my hazy sight, I could briefly make out the shadow that loomed above me. My breath hitched. Tremors threatened to spill within my throat.

Cold, empty eyes, grazing my features like frost. Dark, sturdy build that closed around me like iron, pulsating warmth. The moment I registered it, every movement in my limbs froze, every vertebra in my spine turning to ice.

The face was not of familiar features; yet his eyes, his brows, his mouth, all seemed to connect like a glowing constellation. This was the boy who had witnessed me abused in my father's room, no doubt. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed between us as I stared at him in disbelief.

"Where...Where is this? Why am I here?" he was so close, so close to me, till the only thing shrouding him was the pressing darkness. "Where is my father?" As I asked this, a throbbing ache gushed within my head, reminding me of my haunting nightmare- one I will never forget.

"This is where I live," he replied abruptly, his cold, distant expression burning through me like a merciless fire. "And your father is fine." He does not disclose more, but instead lowered a steely glare at me.
"But you... you've been in a coma for three days already. You've been quite the burden; running a fever throughout the nights, sudden convulsions, and occasional screams." This statement made me flush with embarrassment, but he ran on like he hadn't seen my uneasiness. "I held your hand to calm you; but you hung on so tight and wouldn't let go."

Red touched my cheeks, deepening my blush, as I gazed down at his hands. It was imprisoned in my firm grip. I hurriedly disentangled my hands from his.

"I'm so sorry..." Apprehension crowded my throat. His gaze softened at my apology, but examined me strangely as if expecting a different answer.

"I...um..." My heart raced as my voice shattered in broken pieces. "Thank you so much for what you've done for me. But I really need to go home now. My father will-"

My voice broke off as an almost incomprehensible expression began to shroud his darkening face. I remembered his complex gaze that night outside my house; it was an expression so similar to the one that now flickered across his features. That look soon slipped away, and he sighed uneasily.

I said nothing, and we both drifted into intolerable silence, the gloom around us hiding his features. He took a few steps away from me, then signaled, "I'm going to fetch some food for you. You must be hungry."

With this, I surrendered to my slumped position once again, surveying the interior of this room with stinging curiosity. It was a dreary interior, and although it was not small, the structure of the building reminded me of a dark, sinister attic. Drenched in a brooding melancholy, and whispering of bitter entrapment. The lack of air in this dark, inhospitable place seemed to strangle my heartbeat, reminding me of my countless sufferings.
I arose with teetering feet, making my way cautiously across the strange, dark space. As I removed myself from the warmth and safety of my nestled position, a frosty gale suddenly began to envelop my frail limbs, accompanied by another strange flood of odour. The strength of the smell intensified as I stumbled closer to a part of the room; that odd yet familiar scent. It reminded me of that icy night, when I succumbed to mirthless beatings in my father's room.