Chapter 27: Uncharted Love

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Pixie jumps at me, and I want to throw up, but I don't. I'm hungry. I'm back... in Chicago, I think. My body's drenched in sweat and my throat and stomach hurt. I hug the bunny close. "I thought it was over... I thought I was safe. Why—Why does he do this?" She squirms, and I have no choice but to let her go as she jumps off the bed, twirls, and shifts into a lion. "What if he's here?"

Pixie yawns a lengthy yawn, putting her sharp predatory teeth on full display. It's like she's tired of my constant complaining. "You're right. I can't stay here all day."

My side aches—everything does—but there's no clear reason why. I'm clean, so I let the lion guide me wherever she wants to go, trying not to think of the Mogs shoving me down the halls. I tremble the farther we go, but I don't hear anything. It's quiet except for her claws clicking on the hardwood floor; I can't help but think of it echoing down the corridors.

John's on the couch, sitting with Six, Sam, Ella, and BK. They look worried. No one notices us until I say his name: "John?"

Everyone perks up at my sound. Literally. BK barks and is the first to greet me, running in and around my legs then runs circles around Pixie. John's hugging me before I even know what to do, then they all are. "You're okay!" he exclaims.

I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do except put my arms back around him and squeeze. Sam and Ella hug me too, but honestly, I wish they wouldn't touch me. "How long—"

"Almost three days," Six says.

"What happened? How'd I get here?"

"You passed out," John explains. "Henri drove us back to Chicago as fast as he could."

"You were pretty beat when they got you here," Sam notes. "How do you feel?"

"Tired, and sore."

"You should probably take it easy," he adds. "You went through a lot back there."

"Where are the others?"

"Nine's training," John says, and I can't convey how good it feels to be by his side again. "Marina and Eight went for a walk. I think Henri and Crayton are in the security room still. They were messing with the contents of our Chests, trying to figure out what happened in there." In there... In the cave? Is he talking about what I did? Does that mean they know? Oh God; what does John think of me now?! "Emily? Did you hear me? I said I'll take you to your room."

I shake my head. "I—Thanks. Sounds like a good idea."

***

John helps me back into bed. I lie still while he shuts the curtains of the big bay window. "No," I cry. "Leave them open, um, please...?"

"Won't it be hard to sleep with the light peering in?"

"I don't care," I say. "I don't want them closed." Being able to see outside would make me feel a lot better even if we are a hundred stories from the ground.

Thankfully, he nods and tugs them open again, and I relax when the sun beams in. He sits on the edge of the bed, and I try not to look at him. I know he's upset; I could've gotten his Cêpan killed. But when he puts a hand on top of mine, I can't stop myself from looking up at him, up into his pretty pearls. "Emily, listen," he starts. "Henri told me what happened to you in there, or at least some of it, and—I'm sorry it did. I hate that you had to go through that. If I had just—"

"Stop," I interject. "It was my idea. I thought I could change him, make him see; I thought I could bring him back to our side. Five's misguided. I underestimated him. It's my fault I let you guys come with me." It's like there's a rock crushing my collarbone; it's hard to breathe. "I'm sorry."

"You forgive him?" he asks. "Five—for taking you, I mean. He was the cause of all your pain."

Forgive him? What brought that into his head? "I don't know," I utter. "He was following orders. He was mentored by him because he had no one else to turn to... so, I guess...?"

John smiles warmly. "You've got a kind heart, Emily, and I know I shouldn't really be saying this, but—I really admire that about you." What?

It's silent then, so silent that's it tense and awkward fast. It isn't until he gets up that I start to worry. "Wait," I plead. "Can you—Can you stay with me? At least until I fall asleep?" I don't want him to go yet. I don't want him to leave me.

He smiles and nods and sits down beside me. For a while, I simply stare up at the ceiling, unable to sleep and not willing to try before turning onto my side to face him. He's watching me. "I—I had a nightmare..." I tell him.

"I figured. You okay?"

I turn so my back is flat on the sheets. How am I supposed to respond to that? I don't know if I am, and how can I possibly tell John anything that's really bothering me? He won't understand; he just won't. "I was back there," I start. "It's like it never ends."

"I think I know what you mean," he says, though I don't believe that. I don't believe it for a second. I say nothing, trying to, but I don't. I can't. He hasn't felt what I felt. "When I got my third scar, I was crushed," he goes on. "It hurt like hell, sure, but more than that, I hated knowing we'd have to leave. Running from place to place, countryside to countryside, it's—"

"That's not what I'm talking about," I intrude. "It was different than that. In there..."

"I know." He sounds flustered, like he's unsure what to say, and I turn back to face the ceiling, deciding not to bother with telling him anymore. "It's different, but part of it, it's kind of the same... Endless, right? Like, you want it to be over, you want to feel safe, safe in a place where you don't have to worry about looking over your shoulder or... or who's going to hurt you..."

I say nothing, but of course, that's exactly what it is, and just realizing that... it makes the tears slip no matter how hard I try to hold them in. "Every time I close my eyes, I can see him, John," I cry. "It's like he's always there, in the same room as I'm in, whispering, asking the same questions of me, burning that sticky, disgusting, ooze into me... He won't leave me alone..."

He waits, watching me wipe tear after tear even though they follow one after another. "Hey," he finally says, brushing a hand over my arm. "It's ok. You're safe now. He's not here. He can't hurt you anymore." He pulls me into an embrace, hugs me tighter than the hug with the others, and repeats it in my ear, "He can't hurt you anymore."

"I just don't know what to do..."

"Do nothing," he says. "You're here, Emily. You got away from him. Stay as close to me as possible, and I promise, I won't let anything happen to you again."

"Promise?"

He nods and buries his nose in my hair. "Promise." And for the first time in a while, hearing that sends goosebumps receding down my spine and I'm able to relax. I sink into his chest, close my eyes, and for once, it's blank, and the blankness is comforting—really, frickin' comforting.

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