Echoes of the Past

Chapter 18

The storm outside raged with an intensity I had never experienced before. The house groaned and creaked under the relentless assault of wind and rain, the windows rattling as though they might shatter at any moment. I tried to block out the noise, focusing all my attention on Cole.

After dragging him inside, I rushed to the bathroom, where we had stored a small first aid kit. My hands trembled as I pulled out antiseptic wipes, gauze, and a bandage. I hurried back to where Cole lay on the floor, his face pale, blood still seeping from the gash on his forehead.

"Hang on, Cole," I whispered, more to myself than to him, as I knelt beside him.

With as much care as I could muster, I cleaned the wound, wiping away the blood that had matted his hair. The sight of the injury made my stomach twist with fear, but I forced myself to stay calm. I applied pressure to stop the bleeding, then carefully wrapped a bandage around his head, securing it as best I could.

Cole didn't stir as I worked, his breathing shallow but steady. His skin felt cold under my touch, and I knew I needed to get him warm. Somehow, I managed to drag him to the bed, my muscles straining with the effort. Once I had him on the mattress, I stripped off his wet clothes, tossed them aside, and wrapped him in as many blankets as I could find.

The storm continued to batter the house, the walls shuddering with every powerful gust of wind. I was terrified, not just of the storm, but of losing Cole. The thought of being alone in this nightmare filled me with dread.

I sat by his side, watching his chest rise and fall, counting each breath. He was feverish, his skin flushed with heat, yet he shivered uncontrollably beneath the blankets. I tried to get him to drink water, wetting his lips with a damp cloth and coaxing small sips from a cup, but he remained unresponsive, lost in a world I couldn't reach.

For two days, the storm howled outside, and for two days, I stayed by Cole's side, refusing to leave him. The hours blended into one another, a blur of fear and exhaustion. Every time I checked his wound, I prayed it wasn't infected. The fever didn't break, and I could feel the desperation building inside me. What if he didn't wake up? What if the storm took him from me?

I whispered to him constantly, begging him to come back to me, to open his eyes. "Please, Cole," I murmured, my voice hoarse from crying. "Don't leave me. You're stronger than this. You have to wake up."

By the third day, I was barely holding on, my body aching from lack of sleep, and my nerves frayed to the breaking point. The storm had finally begun to subside, the howling winds now just a distant roar, but Cole was still unconscious. His breathing was faint, his face pale, and I feared the worst.

But then, just as I was about to lose hope, I felt a slight movement under my hand. I looked down, and to my disbelief, Cole's eyes fluttered open. He blinked slowly, as if trying to focus, his gaze distant and unfocused.

"Cole," I breathed, my heart leaping in my chest. "You're awake."

He looked at me, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, and managed a weak smile. "Ava..."

Tears of relief spilled down my cheeks, and I reached out to touch his face, cradling it gently in my hands. "You scared me to death," I said, my voice shaking. "I thought I'd lost you."

He swallowed, his throat dry, and tried to speak. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to worry you."

 The relief of seeing him awake after what felt like an eternity overwhelmed me. I wrapped my arms around him, my tears falling onto his chest.

"Don't you ever do that again!" I cried, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "Do you hear me, Cole? Don't you dare leave me like that!"

His arms, still weak, moved to encircle me, trying to offer comfort even in his fragile state. "Ava..." he whispered, his voice rough and barely audible.