Now We're Even (#Wattys2017)

vii) home

Ali woke up in a room that wasn't his own.

It took him a moment, his eyes trying to adjust to the dark. The curtains were closed, the blinds pulled down, but there were tiny cracks of light filtering through and brightening the room ever so slightly. He could make out the shape of a painting on the wall, light glinting off the glass frame. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through his head. He reached up and touched a hand to his temple, biting back a groan as he felt the sting of a cut, a bruise starting to form and swell. His head was spinning, his legs weak. With shaking hands, he pushed himself up from the bed and made his way out of the room.

The building was quiet as he pushed open the door, staring out at the empty corridor leading to yet another door. The light outside stung his eyes, but he forced himself to move on. Softly, nervously, he inched forward. Where am I? He stepped down hard and jumped back as the floorboard creaked. 

He heard footsteps, and instantly regretted leaving the room. He tried to turn back, but it was too late- the door down the corridor swung open, and he saw the woman from before. Oh god. She's going to kill me. She's brought me here to kill me.

The woman took a step forward, and Ali flinched, his back rubbing up against the wall as he tried to get further away from her. She stood in front of him, and only then did he realise that she wasn't angry. All her rage had been replaced with a look of grim determination.

"James doesn't want you here," she said after a pause, glancing at Ali. "He's scared you're going to try to kill him." Her face was swimming before his. He blinked a few times, trying to stop the spinning, but he was dizzy and weak. "But I think you could be somewhat useful."

His legs gave out, and he scrabbled ineffectually at the wall. The woman recoiled a step, then reached out as he went crashing to the floor. 

"Shit, man. You okay?"

Ali could barely see her, a blur of colours and motion. Nausea was gripping at him, the bitter pangs threatening to overcome his already weak body. The woman set a hand on his arm, and he didn't have the strength to shove her off. 

"You're all pale," she said, and he tried to force a laugh, but it only made him feel worse. "No, don't- don't try to stand," she added hastily as he tried to get up. He gave up, and let himself slump against the wall, trying to blink away the blur obscuring his vision.

"You can tell James," he managed to mutter, "that I don't think I'm going to be any danger to him right now."

And then, all of a sudden, he was laughing. Nothing was funny, not at all, but he couldn't stop. He could hear himself rising in hysteria, rising in screams. His chest was on fire, burning with nausea and pain.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, pushed him up against the wall. He couldn't breathe, and another hand pressed against his chest. He felt like he was choking.

"Calm the fuck down," the woman muttered through gritted teeth, "and just breathe."

It took him a minute or two, but the hysteria subsided and left nothing but his unsettled stomach. His vision had cleared ever so slightly, and he blinked a few times to try to bring it back to normal. "I really hit my head there, huh?" It hurt to speak, but he forced himself to talk to her. "Where am I?"

She took her hands off him, and he slumped away from the wall, hunched over. She quickly replaced her hand on his shoulder, holding him up straight. He didn't have the strength to do it himself. "You're in the apartment. My apartment," she corrected, "and James' apartment too."

"Shit..." Ali muttered. "Is he here?"

"He's in the dining room," she replied coolly. "He doesn't want to see you right now."

"Fair enough," Ali choked, and then he was retching. She flinched away and let go of him, and he collapsed on the floor, his body shaking. 

Once it had passed, she held out an arm, helped him to his feet. His legs felt like jelly. His head was throbbing, and his vision was starting to blur again. 

"I'm Larissa," she told him. "You can call me Lara." He tried to give her a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. 

"Hi, Lara," he said. "My head hurts." It wasn't funny, but he almost started laughing again. She glared at him, and he swallowed back a smile.

"You're concussed, most likely." Lara tightened her grip on his arm as he almost lost his balance again.

"Shit."

"So it's settled," she said calmly. "You'll be staying with me and James until you're better." She smiled at his shocked expression, but the grin didn't reach her eyes. Vaguely, Ali wondered what was going on. "I figure that you're not exactly registered as a real citizen, and I doubt that you'd want me to give your real name to a doctor... or a policeman." 

"But- but- but-"

"Shut up, you idiot, and just walk with me." Ali clung on to her, almost tripping with every step he took. 

"Where're we going?"

"James has agreed to let you stay for the one or two weeks it should take you to recover. You weren't knocked out for long- only about five minutes, really. You should be fine soon. Until then..." The two of them stood outside of the door to the room Ali had woken up in. "You'll be staying in here until you can leave."

"Thank you," Ali told her, his words slurring. He thought he would collapse, but she helped him to the bed. He couldn't lift his legs, so she pulled him into her arms and lifted him. He curled up on top of the cotton sheets, and she poured him a glass of water, set it beside the bed. "I'm sorry."

"Just rest," Lara replied, and slipped out of the room. "I'll see you when you wake up."

"Bye," Ali whispered, and let sleep seal his eyes shut.