Good Enough (Scomiche)

Ch 13. Freedom

It was bright… too bright. 

I had barely cracked my eyes open before I had to squeeze them shut again. I could hear an intermittent beeping, at least that sounded familiar. I was used to the beeps and whirrs of the various machines I’d been connected to.  Maybe it had all been a dream. Maybe I was still right where I had been for weeks on end. Maybe Avi was still alive.

I tried to open my eyes again, and this time managed to get them fully open. 

I felt the familiar sluggishness of coming out of sedation. I tried to focus on the room. I didn’t recognize it. 

I looked to my right to see a familiar figure sitting on the edge of the chair next to me, my hand sandwiched between both of his. His eyes were focused on the hand he held, his body hunched forward. He was whispering something, but I couldn’t hear it. 

He looked tired, fatigued. His hair was shorter now. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers through it.  I could see tear tracks on his cheeks. He was covered in dirt and … blood. My pulse quickened as the worry started to sink in. 

I tried to lift my hand from his, but it didn’t want to obey me at first and all I managed was a few twitches of my fingers. He stared at it momentarily before his eyes met mine. The hard edge to his face softened with relief and his eyes began to sparkle with tears as he stood and ran his fingers over my cheek.  It reminded me of Avi. 

The memory hit me like a battering ram. I had to look away from him for a moment, but it was strange…  as I looked back at him he seemed like a different person. He wasn’t the same man who had pulled the trigger. He wasn’t that monster…  this was my sweet, loving high school sweetheart, and he was drenched in blood. 

Both of my hands moved to his shirt, tugging on it weakly, trying to find whatever wound he had. “You’re hurt…” I whispered out. “Where… what..”

He shook his head no, taking my hands in his and kissing each one. “Babe, no. I’m fine… i’m okay.  It’s not mine.”  He ran his hand over my head, smoothing the now way too long hair away from my face. “It’s yours.” 

I watched the tears fall, his lip tremble as he took my face in his hands. “I thought I’d lost you.” 

I was confused, but the haziness was starting to wear off. “What happened?” 

“I sat you down for just… just a moment. There were too many of them. I thought I’d …” he pressed his lips together, apparently angry at something… them? me? himself?

“I didn’t see him until it was too late. He got off two shots before I could…” He trailed off, finding my hands again.  

Before he could …  

Fill in the blank.  Shoot him? Kill him? 

My Mitch was a murderer. I guess I should have realized that before. He’d killed people in his attempt to escape the first time. It hadn’t seemed this intimate before. It made my stomach turn over. 

“I’m so sorry, Scott. It was my fault. It’s all my fault.” 

I tried to sit up, wanting to pull him closer, but a jolt of excruciating pain caused my vision to white out. I let out an involuntary cry. 

So yeah, that blood all over him..  was definitely mine.  Let me tell you, being shot hurts like a bitch. 

He pushed me back down against the pillow. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.” He hurried out of the room only to return moments later with a man I didn’t recognize. He asked me some questions, took my vitals.  This was starting to become my life… the beeping, the needles and strange hands… and the pain.  There was always pain.