The Highest Bidder

❊ Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ Fᴏʀᴛʏ﹣Sᴇᴠᴇɴ ❊

Six and a half weeks later, there was no change with Eva. She was still breathing on her own and her heart rate was fine, but she was unresponsive. The prick of the blood sugar needle didn't elicit a flinch from her. The cold steel of the stethoscope didn't make her shiver.

Her bruises were gone and her scabs had faded into scars or into nothing at all. The tube feeding helped her gain some of her weight back, but she still looked too thin. Carmen said that she would gain more weight when she woke up and started to eat on her own. When that would be, he didn't know.

I made a permanent place for myself in the chair by her side. I sent my orders out to my employees from my computer and didn't accept any visitors unless absolutely necessary. I wanted to be there when she woke up, even though it seemed less and less likely that she would. Sophia and Thomas visited the room regularly, checking to see if anything changed. I could see the fight leaving them, their minds believing that she'd never wake up again.

My father called a few times since he dropped us off at my house. But after weeks of me not answering, he stopped and had my mother call. I didn't answer those either, only texting her and telling her that I don't have the time or energy to speak with them. My mom had no idea what was going on, other than the fact that Eva was kidnapped and may not wake up from her coma.

Death has never bothered me. But the thought of her dying tore me up inside.

I kissed her forehead before I left the room, heading upstairs to take a shower. Nothing would change in the fifteen minutes it took me to bathe.

The burn of the water was always a welcome feeling, even though it would never wash away the blood on my hands. The fact that Eva accepted what I was and what I had done was something I never thought possible. I thought that, once she knew, she'd be disgusted. I knew she was afraid, but she had nothing to be afraid of. I would never intentionally hurt her.

I closed my eyes and thought back to when she walked in on me showering. The surprise on her face was unintentionally hilarious as she allowed her eyes to travel over me. The reddening of her face when she realized what she was doing and then the way she slapped her hand over her eyes. I smiled at the memory. At the time, I was just as shocked as she was. I never thought she'd walk in on me in the shower.

When she asked me who showered the way I did, I didn't understand. I still don't understand, but I guess she did it differently than I did.

I washed up quickly and exited the shower, wrapping a white towel around my waist. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. In the weeks that Eva had been in a coma, I barely slept. When I did, I was always woken up by either the doctor or my thinking that she had moved. But whenever I opened my eyes to check, she was still in the same spot.

I looked older than my thirty years. Dark bags were under my eyes and I had thick hair growing on my chin and above my lips. It looked like my father was looking back at me instead of myself, and that wasn't acceptable.

I lathered shaving cream over my face and began to shave off the hair. I needed some whiskey and a cigarette, but I hadn't smoked in ten years and my whiskey was downstairs in the cellar. So, instead of taking the time to go and get something that would only make me more exhausted, I decided to go lay down in my bed for the first time in six weeks.

My body seemed to reject it at first, my bones aching and seemingly confused. But after a few minutes, it relaxed and I allowed myself the luxury of sleep.

Two hours passed before I woke up from a dreamless sleep, my eyes still heavy but otherwise feeling rested. I sat up and ran my fingers through my tousled hair, hoping the movements would wake my body up as well. When that didn't work, I forced myself to my feet and to my closet, where I changed into black pants and a white t-shirt before heading back downstairs.

Sophia was walking down the hall when I got downstairs and her eyes went to my hair. Amusement glittered in her eyes before she turned and went into her room.

"It can't look that bad," I mumbled, turning and entering Eva's bedroom.

Carmen was there, changing out the tube feed bag. When he saw me enter, he gave me a smile from behind his mask, which made his eyes squint.

I took my seat next to Eva and relaxed back, threading my fingers through hers once again. She wasn't cold anymore. Actually, she was pretty warm.

"I need to check her vitals and I'll be out of your way," he said, turning and heading to Eva's other side.

"Take your time," I replied, watching as he put a blood pressure cuff around her thin bicep.

The cuff hissed as Carmen counted her heartbeats and read the numbers. After a few seconds, he took the blood pressure cuff off and stuck a thermometer under her armpit. He nodded at it like it was telling him something before he pulled it away and stuck it in his bag.

The blood sugar was next. He had explained to me that she didn't have diabetes, but she was hypoglycemic.

When he pricked her finger, my eyes widened when she flinched. Carmen froze and looked up at her, just as she whimpered silently and moved her head to the side. He finished placing her blood on the strip quickly.

"Eva?" He leaned over her.

Her eyebrows furrowed.

"Eva, can you open your eyes for me?"

My mouth dropped open slightly in astonishment. After six weeks of her being unresponsive, she was finally waking up and responding to the pain of the needle. Although I wished her first feeling wasn't pain, I was happy that she was feeling anything at all.

The doctor said something about good blood sugar and blood pressure before commanding her to open her eyes.

And when she did, I felt my eyes sting with tears and my heart beat twice as fast. She was awake. She was alive. And she would survive.