Ana: Incipience

Chapter 8

They froze; the only sound that could be heard was Ana's labored sobs. She used the opportunity to free her arms; the relief was immediate. 

"Let her go.  Now."  Ana kept her eyes on the ground.  She knew that voice - Jonathan. Somehow she wasn't relieved.  Boris gave her one last feel before running off after his two thugs.  Ana sat where she was propped up and quickly pulled the remainder of her singlet across her body and shakily redid the top button on her jeans.  It took a lot longer than it should have, but still Jonathon stayed motionless. He didn't want to scare her anymore than she already was.  Blood ran in a slow trickle from the wound under her eye.  Half of her face was swollen and bruised.  He put the gun down slowly.  Ana sat with her hands wrapped around her knees, she was still shaking. 

"Are you okay Ana?"  He took a step toward her cautiously.  He didn't know if he had caught Boris and those thugs in time.  Her mind was slow and fuzzy from the punches. 

"Ana, you're safe now." Why did he keep using her name? It sounded strange to her, shouldn't he be using her number? "Ana, I'm not going to hurt you." He took another step forward as her eyes darted toward the oval.  She needed to escape, her breathing was ragged and all traces of adrenaline had burned from her veins.  All that was left behind was fear; tears streamed from her eyes freely now.  She was wet with sweat and blood and she desperately needed to wipe her eyes.  Jonathon sat down slowly next to the small, bleeding girl.  He placed a hand on her shoulder – she flinched. 

"Ana, it's Jonathon.  You're all right now." She nodded softly, her sobbing subsided and now only silent tears fell.  She struggled to stand so Jonathon helped her up.  Her body ached as she started walking slowly toward the lights.  She needed to get out of the area quickly. 

"Thank you." She murmured.  Keeping her eyes down and hand across her chest, she had fixed her singlet but still felt under dressed.  Jonathon quickly pulled off his jumper and passed it to her.  She gratefully took it and pulled it over her head.  Jonathon led her to dorm 12.  He helped her up the stairs and unlocked the door.  He kept looking over his shoulder and Ana didn't understand why.

He gently sat her down on one of the couches before going to grab a wet washcloth from the bathroom.  Ana rested her head on a cushion.  Her brain swam with thoughts - none of them pleasant.  Jonathon returned quickly and placed the warm washcloth under Ana's eye.  His clear eyes were filled with fury.  It seemed to Ana as though something had changed in him once he entered his personal space - but it could just be her concussion.

"How hard did those bastards hit you?"  His voice was gentle but his hands quivered when they held the washcloth to her face.  The girl stayed quiet and pulled her face from his hands.  Jonathon could barely conceal his rage.  It was merely his years of practicing constraint that stopped him from going out after them.  He had no respect for those that preyed on people weaker than themselves, especially in a group of 3 against 1.  Jonathon looked intently upon her face, studying the bruising which colored her ashen cheeks and laced its way up onto her temple.  Her face was red; it looked like she had been slapped.  A thin line of bruises had formed on the front of her neck and her body was littered with red marks and bruises, Jonathan could see exactly where the thug and his friend's hands had roamed.  When he returned his icy stare back to her eyes, he found he could no longer see their watery depths. 

"Open your eyes, you can't sleep yet.  Your head was hit pretty hard. How are you feeling?" His voice was quiet.  It sounded like a song. 

"Fine." She croaked.  Jonathan laughed quietly at the juxtaposition. He crouched near the couch, where he had laid her earlier.  Ana registered the laugh as strange, but couldn't remember why she thought it so.  She closed her eyes again. Jonathon struggled to stop her drifting off.