The Fisherman's Niece

Chapter 7

 Okay, this was a pretty tough chapter for me, and it took longer than I originally thought it would to be happy with it.  I hope you enjoy it and any comments would be more appreciated. :)  Thanks for reading!!

       The tiles on the bathroom floor were cool. The screaming in her head had settled down to a faint, tinny ringing once more. Meriel felt strange, and everything around her was dim and hazy. She'd blacked out again, had she hit her head? She looked towards the bathroom door. It stood open. The floor was completely clean, and though the light filtering in was gray like in the early morning, there was enough for her to be sure that the hallway was empty.

       She was still so weak. The relief she felt at not finding Lyle's corpse waiting for her drained her so much that she almost collapsed. Had she dreamed the whole thing? It had felt so real, his hands and tongue all over her body, the rattling and thumping of the door, and that horrible gurgling sound that no human should ever make. Meriel shivered.

       Trying to sit up properly was as successful as trying to build a tower out of jello. The air around her was thick, and moving took way too much energy. She gave in to her exhaustion and slumped back to the floor, hoping the chill would help revive her. The room was spinning ever so slightly and she wondered if perhaps she had a concussion.

       She was just starting to slip back in to oblivion when a sound coming from the hallway put her on alert. Meriel tried to sit up again and look for some sort of escape, but her movements were too quick and she hissed through her teeth as a bolt of pure agony threatened to tear her brain in two. Her eyes teared up as she heard footsteps coming around the corner. They stopped in the doorway and then headed straight for her. She couldn't see or think straight, so she began waving her arms wildly in an attempt to ward off any sort of attack that may be coming.

       It took a few moments for her aching skull to settle down. She felt someone grab her wrists and tried to fight harder. The grip tightened but she didn't stop struggling until she heard her name being called. It was a familiar voice. Blinking rapidly, she tried to get the face in front of her to come into focus.

       “Dylan?“ she croaked.

       “What happened?“ He reached up and caressed a tear-stained cheek.

       She could see that when he pulled his hand away it was streaked with something red. Her hands flew to her face and she could feel dried blood mixed with fresh tears. It was caked on and had caused some of her hair to stick there. She turned her attention back to Dylan who was still crouched in front of her, radiating concern.

       “I-- I think I hit my head,“ she managed.

       She still wasn't sure what had happened to her and didn't want him to get the impression that she was completely crazy. Letting him think she was a complete klutz was only slightly better.

       “Can you stand up? I can get you to the hospital if you need to.“ He grabbed her under the arms and lifted her to her feet. She could feel her legs slip a couple times, but his arms were there to keep her upright. He was so close to her that she could smell the sea through the stronger coppery aroma coming from her. It was so soothing, like a drug or aphrodisiac. She felt an overwhelming sense of trust and relief steal over her, but when he tried to lead the way out of the bathroom she held her ground.

       “No doctors. I'll be okay, just need a sleep,“ she tried to argue.

       “You're not supposed to sleep if you have a concussion and we won't know that until you see a doctor,“ he tried to reason with her.