Wake me

17: Food and Frustrations

"So, you're telling me that your boyfriend has captured us and locked us in this room, and dropped off some food so that we didn't starve?" Anna had woken up, and was asking me tons of questions after I stated that somebody I used to date was the one behind the door. He had come in and dropped off two pieces of cold chicken and a single thin blanket made of coarse wool. "Yes, Anna!" I nodded. "I know it sounds unbelievable, but I have this feeling-"
"How come you can remember and I can't?" Anna's face turned glum, her eyebrows knitting together.
I didn't know how to respond, "Um... It's not like I chose to remember, it just happened."
"I don't remember anything," Anna swallowed down tears, "It's like my past was erased."
I didn't reply, and tore off a piece of stringy white chicken and popped it cautiously into my mouth. The chicken tasted dry and bitter, but was relieving against my aching throat. Anna looked at the chicken, but didn't eat it. Instead, she pulled the blanket onto her. "Anna," I said softly, "If we are going to get out... Wherever we are, we need to work together. I can't do this alone."
"What exactly do you remember, anyway?" Anna asked snobbishly, her nose buried under the hem of the charcoal smelling blanket.
"That I used to date this guy," I said quietly, "We were close, I think. His name was Luke, well that's what I seem to grasp. Unless it's some made up imaginary story my insane mind came up with."
"Hmm," Anna thought, "But how would you just remember that? So, that guy you saw must have some sort of impact on your past."
I acknowledged the thought, and urged Anna to eat some of the chicken. After a few sentences of persuasion, she did so and rubbed her chest/shoulder area pitifully. "I need to rest. Im going to have to pray that we get out of here alive." And with that, she rolled over without another word.

Glancing over to Anna, who was still asleep in a rattling dream, I teetered my way to another corner and began carefully peeling the crinkled, damp material from my arm. As soon as the sleeve was away, I could smell rot and metallic blood well up within my slightly blocked, dry nostrils. I had to stop breathing and, with a wince, stuck my forefinger into the wound. I fiddled around, grimacing as I touched some hard. Bone? I bit my lip to prevent hot tears from escaping, and I pressed my thumb into the gaping hole as well. I pushed and shoved deeper, and my fingers grabbed something else- cold and hard. Peeking down, I saw my thumb was touching a silver object covered with flicks of blood and sinew. I shut my eyes, pulled a contorted face and twisted the object out my body sharply. I inhaled deeply, letting a small cry escape my beaten lips, and placed the item on the floor. There was a new, fresh coat of blood all over my fingers, pouring from my wound. My arm throbbed and tingled numbly, and with shaky hands I wrapped the material tightly back around. I picked up the silver object- a bullet. A bullet? Why was there a bullet in my arm? I shivered at the thought, and wiped the remaining blood off the bullet and onto my pants. I read the metal signage- desert eagle 037. I wasn't an expert on guns and weapons, but I knew that the desert eagle was a one handed pistol. I had watched enough James Bond movies to know that. Where had I watched them? I can't remember. It was as if somebody shot me, and all personal attachments of memories to objects had been erased from my mind, as simple as the click of fingers. I glanced over my shoulder, and saw Anna was still sleeping. I started feeling drowsy too, and my entire body began to pulse with waves of pain and numbness. I better sleep. I didn't want to go near Anna with sticky blood on my fingers, she had wounds of her own to deal with. Wait, if she had wounds, didn't that mean she too had a bullet? I knew that if you left a bullet in a wound, it could become seriously infected and may stop the wound from the healing process, especially if the bullet was dirty before it entered the body- yep, crime novels. I scrambled over to Anna, pushing her unharmed shoulder gently. "Wake up," I whispered sharply, "Get up." Anna's glassy eyes opened groggily, and she sat herself up against the wall, her shoulder propped up like a sculpture. "I just dug around," I explained, motioning at my arm, "I found a bullet in my wound, you need to get yours out."
"What?" Anna asked, confused. Her eyes were faded out and distant, and with a quick grimace on my face, it dawned on me that I was going to have to get it out for her. "Roll over, slowly. I need you lying down," I said shakily, "It hurts." Nervously, she lay down, her head hitting the floor rather sharply, however she did not cry out. I gritted my teeth and slowly began unwrapping the shoulder / chest makeshift bandage, my nose already firing from the putrid smell. Peeling away bloody layers revealed a tangled, matted wound of flesh and white sinews. Dried blood and peeled skin surrounded the wound, with flicks of dirt and collections of blood sacs. I gently pressed the outside of the wound, the skin was hard. Anna didn't even cringe. "Is it sore?" I asked surprised, pressing a forefinger sharply into the flesh in the wound. Anna didn't flinch- "No, have you done something?" I looked away from her faraway eyes, and realization came upon me once again- Anna had lost her nerves in her arm. Good thing: it would make it easier for me to get the bullet out. Bad thing: she possibly wouldn't feel again. Blocking out any thoughts, I stuck three fingers straight into the wound and dug around, slipping my thumb under folds of hot muscle or sliding a forefinger over greasy files of flesh. Throughout the entire grueling process, Anna did not move. She remained still, as if she was in a comfortable bed, about to fall asleep after a normal day. When my fingers touched the same metallic material, I yanked it out and handed it Anna's open, shaking palm. It was the same type of bullet in my wound, except it had splintered at the barrel. "Shit." I swore under my breath, and craned my eyes to see inside the dark, deep wound. I couldn't see anything, it was far too deep and putrid for me to even distinguish between muscle and bone. I pulled the strings of skin together, and wrapped the material tightly. "Is this it?" Anna frowned, "Why is it smaller than yours?" Why was she acting so childish- as if she had the intelligence of a five year old!
"Anna, the barrel burst." I stated, wringing out my hands.
"The barrel." She stated again, eyes drifting off, "I wonder why."
"Anna!" I snapped, "Somebody shot you, the barrel exploded within you."
"What does that mean?" Was she joking? I was about to slap her across the face for being so stupid when I saw the truth in her eyes. She had no clue what was happening- and slowly I realized the grains of color from her skin were beginning to fade into translucent white. Her veins were beginning to etch on her neck and cheeks, and her nose had blood trickling from out the right nostril. Her lips were coated with flakes of dry blood, never again was I too use the metaphor blood red lips. "Don't worry," I said softly, my voice trembling, "It'll all be fine." I stroked her hair tenderly and propped her against the wall. "Will it?" Anna croaked.
"Yes," I murmured edgily, "It will." The entire reason I said that was to comfort myself, and to hear a confirming voice was something I needed.

The door opened, and the darkness around me suddenly became lit with dull, yellow light. It fasted shadows from the door, a man's silhouette. Anna rambled next to me, and I didn't know whether to act asleep or let the person know I was wide awake. I shifted my weight, and the person stepped inside silently. I watched their shadow move towards me, and I felt an eerie silence. I couldn't even hear their breathing. Nervously, I shifted again. This time, hands slowly snaked their way around my body, enclosing me in a surprisingly warm and comforting grasp. Should I move?
"Grace," the voice whispered hotly into my ear, "Parker." Hearing this deep, husky voice whisper my name sent goosebumps down my body. I think the person sensed it- I knew who they were. Emotions waved through me, and i allowed the grasp in my limp fingers to tighten around the arms holding me. Luke's grasp grew immediately tighter, and I was pulled off the floor into the air, and hoisted out of the room quicker than I entered. I couldn't talk- my throat was closed and dry, blood finding its way onto the tip of my tongue. I held tighter, Luke's breath growing strangely heavier and deeper. Where was he taking me? A door slammed shut, and so did my eyes. I was comforted, limp and probably dying. The pain was shooting through my arm and spreading in my chest- I was going to die. Had he come to rescue me? Suddenly, a sharp excruciating pain entered my side, under my ribcage, and I yelped out in surprise and pain. It shot through me, like lightning bolts through my spine and brain. My eyes groggily shut.

And before I drifted into a black cloud of nothingness, Luke whispered into my ear shakily, his voice tickling down my shoulders, "I love you, Grace, I'm sorry."