Eminence (Wattpad Edition)

Note 13 - The World Outside of You

Emanon watched as the man in front of her arranged a vase of flowers near the sink. Today, he had worn light blue shorts and a baggy grey T-shirt; his unkempt hair, as usual, was a little shorter than she remembered. He must have gotten a haircut recently. It looked shinier, almost like sterling silver in the morning light.

He filled the vase with water, and as he walked to place it on the window sill, he glanced her way. His curious eyes met hers, and with a gentle, warm smile, he let out an amused laugh.

"Yes, Emanon?" Warren asked her.

"Hmm?"

"Do you need something, my dear?"

"No, just admiring you."

"Are you now?" He set the vase down and walked over to sit at her bedside.

"Just admiring?"

"Just admiring," she told him.

"You look a lot better since I last saw you," he said, reaching up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear and it made her heart skip.

"I feel much better, too. Come closer, please."

"Is this not close enough? You missed me that much?" he teased.

"I did. So come here. I need to be held. I need to be touched."

"Oh yeah?" he murmured, leaning in to kiss her.

"I'm literally still here..." Jack groaned from the couch near the window.

"Your son needs attention," Warren teased, and Emanon laughed.

"Ugh, it's only been five days. Do you have to flirt first thing in the morning?" Jack asked.

"You didn't feed your son breakfast before you came?" Emanon added with a smirk.

"Hello!?" Jack exclaimed.

"Yes, Jack?" Warren and Emanon said in unison. Jack scoffed loudly.

"I'll leave so we can feed the boy, and then I'll be back," Warren told her, standing up.

"Alright," she replied, brushing her fingers lightly along his hand before letting him go.

"I'm. Thirty," Jack muttered. "Not a boy." Then louder: "Thirty!"

"You sure throw tantrums like a boy. Come on..." Warren said, grabbing his coat but not before kissing Emanon goodbye. They left the room together.

She had been in the hospital since the hotel. The aftermath smoothed into routines: daily blood transfusions, steady IV drips, and little plastic pouches of baby food with cartoon labels. The nurses handed them over, like they were doing her a favor. "An odd but necessary solution," they'd said. She didn't argue. Truthfully, as it turned out, she knew far less about her species than she thought she did. That part kept her up sometimes. How could she be what she is and still not know what that means?

The hospital staff hadn't known what to make of her either. A fully grown woman, claiming ten years of memory and nothing more. She'd told them she remembered waking up in a containment facility. Waking up. Not being born. Just, waking. She had sat up on a cot one day and understood language.

The doctors had stared after she told them this. One of them had cleared their throat and asked if they could sample her blood, to confirm her history.

She nodded. As if history was something that could be pulled from a vein. But maybe it could. Memories. She thought. A person's whole life in memories. Was it really possible to see everything? Even the things forgotten?