Perception

Part 63

Sang POV

I wake in a tangle of limbs, with multiple scents surrounding me. The light is filtering through multiple colors of hair, many I recognize as my own, and the rest belonging to Jessica. Her cotton candy fragrance blends well with my own floral perfume and is expected, but the scent of orange zest and cloves reminds me that Meanie ended up spending the night. When I let my lids fall closed again, the scents of warm spice, musk, leather and cypress, and vanilla are also detectable. It's silent except for various forms breathing, so I have no idea what woke me.

When the gurgle of coffee brewing reaches my ears, I realize that someone must have been moving around to have woken me. The air shifts, and the smell of spring soap reaches me right before  the clumps of hair and gently removed from my face. I blink up at Mr. Blackbourne, and feel my cheeks heat with my shy smile. He gives his millimeter smile, then raises an eyebrow in question.

I manage to locate one of my own hands in the twist of limbs, and sign that I'm stuck. After seeing what I signed, he pulls back and studies the situation. With just a few small adjustment of arms and legs, I'm free to be pulled out of the pile. Mr. Blackbourne silently offers his hand to assist me in standing, and lifted me up with ease.

I want to try to straighten my pajamas, but with one arm asleep, and the other still clasped in Mr. Blackbourne's, I'm left with my midriff showing, and the borrowed pants low enough on my hips for my iliac crests to show prominently, and the crease where my leg meets my trunk on one side. I tug gently to retrieve my hand, but am met with resistance. I blushingly look back at Mr. Blackbourne to see what the holdup is, to find his eyes focused with steely intensity on the same track of my skin that I had just surveyed. Instead of pulling my hand away, I try to squeeze his fingers to gain his attention.

His eyes snap up to my own, and although I'm already furiously flushed, I feel my body heat further when I note how his pupils have nearly overtaken the sparkling silver of his irises. I gulp, but am paralyzed. He swallows heavily too, then quietly clears his throat. His free hand makes a fist, and he quickly circles in over his chest to sign he's sorry, then releases my hand. I quickly straighten my borrowed pajamas, and head to the kitchen where I find Erica sipping coffee and reading something on her Kindle.

"Good morning, Sang! Did you sleep well?" she asks quietly with a knowing smirk. I nod quickly, then smile.

"Yes, although it wasn't nearly so crowded when I fell asleep," I tell her. She laughs and pulls out her phone. After a few taps she turns it to face me. There, in living color, was a picture of the guys all spooned into each other, with arms outstretched to rest on either my or Jessica's arms. Again, Jessica and I are facing each other and have our arms over each other's waists or shoulders.

"That was adorable, but I do wonder. In all the years the boys have been having sleepovers, They've never...wound up like this to my knowledge," she says with humor, leaving it open-ended in the hope that I'll fill in the missing clues. I blush, and shrug.

"Nightmares," I whisper. The humor leaves her face, and she hops out of her chair to gather me in a hug.

"Oh, Sang. I'm so glad you're here for Jess. There's only so much I can do without acting like a crazily overprotective mother," Erica murmurs into the side of my head, concluding falsely that Jessica's nightmares triggered the group snugglefest. I pat her back, and pull away.

"She's doing better than anyone could have hoped. Knowing that the person responsible for it is locked away helps, too," I tell Erica.

"Oh! Do I have a story to tell you! Well, this is all a second-hand account, but my sources are pretty reliable. Apparently when that man was well enough to be transferred to the prison medical unit, and he left the hospital, several young girls came forward to report more instances of abuse. It turns out that the creep's victims were pretty widespread. The prison psychiatrist, and attending physician, siblings by-the-by, have a niece that was subjected to his attentions and are working in collusion with a prison guard, whose little sister was also abused by creep-face, to make his life a living hell. No one is reporting when the other prisoners beat the heck out of the guy. Half of them there have either had dealings with him from that joke of a school, or their sisters, nieces, cousins, or what-have-yous have. No one is doing anything to stop them," she says looking gleeful, but a twinge of guilt passes over her face. I just shake my head in shock.