Courting Tragedy

Courting Tragedy (3)

3

"You know, it's really inconvenient when that you keep fainting on me."

I groaned and brought my hands up to my head. It felt like someone was using a jackhammer on my brain.

"You're actually really lucky I caught you before you fell. That would have really hurt." He continued.

"Can you shut up? Your voice really hurts." I mumbled as I slammed my hands over my ears.

I heard him chuckle, that same low sound as before, and I couldn't help the shivers shooting down my spine. I should not be reacting to my kidnapper like this. I mean, for God's sake, he stole me out of my house when I was unconscious. I mean, he did help me, and he hadn't hurt me yet, but still. He could.

I didn't want to think anymore. I pulled my pillow out from under me, crammed it down on top of my head, and curled up in the fetal position. It didn't help the pounding in my skull, but at least I didn't need to look at the guy anymore. It was easier to blank out my thoughts when I couldn't see his eyes shining at me.

It was quiet for a while and I hoped that my headache would start to fade with the silence. I was wrong; it intensified, to the point where I was clenching my fists and crying. I felt pathetic, but I'd never had a headache like this before.

I heard the door open and wondered subconsciously when he'd left. His footsteps moved slowly to the bed and stopped. I felt the edge of the bed dip down as he sat behind me. He gently moved the pillow off of my face and slid his hands under my arms, pulling me to a sitting position.

He pried my hand open and dropped two pills into it. I opened my eyes slowly and looked down to see that he'd given me Tylenol. Oh, thank God. I put them in my mouth and took a sip from the glass of water he held out to me. Tears still ran down my face, and I closed my eyes again. He set the cup on the table, the small thud it made causing a spike of pain in my head. I gasped and started crying harder.

Jesus, Em. Let's recap the last day or two, shall we? You get kidnapped in the middle of a crazy storm. Then the guy takes you to his house (supposedly), and gives you his clothes. Then you pass out. Again. And he puts you back into bed, where you wake up with a crazy headache and cry all over the place. Lovely. Just lovely.

I almost collapsed, crying harder yet. I felt his arms come around me, and my head on his chest. Let's add this to the list: crying on your kidnapper.

"Crying isn't going to make it go away, you know," He whispered against my hair, "It'll probably make it worse. Try to calm down."

Calm down? He wanted me to calm down? Right. Like that's possible. I kept crying.

"If you somehow manage to stop, we can have a decent conversation. I'll tell you why you're here, and then maybe you'll stop passing out all the time." His voice was a little lighter this time, a little less accusatory.

I thought for a second about what he'd said. If it's a chance to figure out why I'm not at my house right now, I'm willing to try and chill out. I started taking deeper breaths, still leaning against those lovely muscles of his. It wasn't long before I stopped crying almost completely, except for those horrible after-cry hiccups, and my headache had lessened to a bearable level. His arms loosened a little around me, but I wasn't ready to be let go.

He was actually really warm, and for whatever reason I was freezing. Soon, though, he let me go and leaned back.

"Done crying now?" He asked, eyeing my red eyes.

I nodded, wiping my face with my hands before pulling the comforter up and wrapping it around my shoulders.

"Cold?" He asked as he walked over to his dresser and changed shirts. The one he was wearing before had been soaked in tears. Oops, my bad.

I nodded and crossed my legs, trying to get more comfortable.

"You want to tell me what's going on now?" I asked, my voice raspy from the crying.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Do you want a sweatshirt?"

I hesitated. "Can I have a sweatshirt and the answers?"

He grinned. "Sure."

He pulled out a sweatshirt and walked back to the bed. He gave it to me, and watched me pull my freezing arms through the sleeves and settle back against the headboard.

"Alright. Don't judge me on how I tell this... I'm not completely sure on a few parts myself." He said slowly.

I shrugged. "I guess we can find out together."

He smiled and sat back down in the chair by the bed.

"Hold onto your socks, Princess. This is intense stuff."