Demons and Kings

Chapter 16

The last thing Carol remembered was fighting with Memphis on top of a wall at the edge of the Nile. He had... he had just surrounded her, his hand on her arm. He had pulled her back asking her to stop, calm down and what would Evie think. It had been that which had set her off she remembered. The mention of her sister had made her angry enough that logic and the idea of consequence had flown right out the window the moment he had said her name.

She knew exactly what Evie thought. Every cruel opinion had already been laid bare, and Carol cared for none of it.

God, she had just been so sick of her sister, of her selfish single-minded attitude. And Carol had felt so betrayed, her situation seemingly so hopeless and hearing her sisters name, the very same person that she was, at that very moment, trying to get away from – it had been too much.

She ripped herself out of his grasp, angry words meant to hurt him on the tip of her tongue, but she had pulled too hard... and then it was too late. She had pitched over the side – slipped really – and then the shock of landing headfirst into the river had hit her. An icy pain that started at the top of the skull and swept down her spine. She'd gasped, taking in a lungful of water and had distantly hoped she wouldn't be eaten by a crocodile as her world went dark.

Her first thought when consciousness came creeping back was that she had died. Pulled under by the current to drown. But as her eyes opened, she knew she was still among the living. She hurt far too much to be dead.

Oh, heavens above, everything hurt. Her head was pounding, her muscles ached with fatigue, her throat felt like she'd scrubbed it with sandpaper, and when she tried to open her eyes – they burned, even in the dim light beyond her closed eyelids. She couldn't remember a time she had hurt quite like this.

Carol wallowed in the pain, and her own self-pity for what felt like hours, but what really could only have been a few minutes before the door opened, bright light filling the room and forcing her to pull the sheets over her head with a pained groaned. There was a moment of weighted silence, and then a piercing scream broke it, shattering the last of the drowsy haze she had woken up in into an absolute sense of clarity.

"Ryan!"

Trine yelled just as loudly as Carol remembered, the volume not doing anything for her headache. Pain pulsed behind her eyes, and she sat up with a strangled groan to clutch at her temples. Bordering on hysterical, Trine yelled again – this time from right beside the bed, and Carol half-heartedly fought the hands pushing her back into the pillows.

Calloused fingers brushed against her sweaty cheeks and carded through limp hair, and the soft nearly crooning words spoken in a low tone by her ear were familiar and welcome. Trine smelled of fresh bread and laundry detergent, and Carol turned to bury her face in the older woman's shoulder, suddenly very much overwhelmed.

Eventually and though the sound was muffled, Carol heard footsteps running towards them, along with anxious voices, each one clamoring to be heard over the other as they drew ever closer to the still open doorway. They were voices she never thought she would hear again. Tears welled, and Carol didn't bother to wipe them away as her mother, her brothers, burst into the room.

There was a heavy silence then, one of disbelief that was broken by her mother's sound of joy. The tears slipped down her cheeks, the salt stinging at the cracks in her lips and dripping from her chin onto the blankets covering her lap. She smiled through the watery blur as her mother hugged her, cried even harder as Ryan's hand brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

It's real, Carol thought. It felt real. The stiff fabric of her mother's starched blouse under her shaking hands, the smell of her perfume. How soft the bed was underneath her, how solid Rodney's arm was around her shoulder. It's really real. She was finally home.