Saved by the Phoenix

Chapter Seven

Ember's POV

The first way I know that I'm real is being aware of a darkness. It's always the same. I know where I am, I know I'm asleep, slowly waking as my nerves finally register my surroundings. The first is the temperature. I was always used to waking up on cold linoleum, or a cool metal table, but, now, I was warm, and going to savor it.
My icy fingers fondle the seam of the blanket over me, holding it tightly, and the wrapping around my body, seeking heat.
Most people flip out when waking in unfamiliar surroundings, not remembering what had happened the night before like a small child, or a person with a bad hangover. But I always remember, unless I had blacked out.
Patrick's face slipped into my mind, his mouth forming words from yesterday. Half of me wanted to find him, but I was so comfortable in my cocoon of fabric that I was glued there. Whatever remnants of drugs still in my system probably had some say in my decision, too.
When I awoke again, I opened my eyes for the first time in an eternity, judging by how my eyes were almost glued shut with my own eye secretions. Probably sick, I thought as I rubbed them away.
Faint morning light glowed from behind curtains, and the smell of warm food propelled me from Patrick's bed. I was greeted at the door by a long hallway, but with memories of the night before, I found stairs easily and drifted into the kitchen.
Patrick stood at the stove, flipping food in a pan. Baggy sweatpants and a black shirt modestly covered his body, and his cocoa-colored hair stuck up in odd places around the crown of his head.
He turned around to grab a plate and jumped when he saw me. I jumped too, out of surprise.
"I didn't know you were there, Ember. You scared me!" he said, laughing uneasily.
"Heh... Hi. I, uh... Hi," I said awkwardly.
"It's okay. I made you food. Also, I thought you might wanna know you slept a whole day..."
"Oh, sorry if I screwed up your schedule." I gratefully took the plate of warm bacon and eggs, not remembering the last time I had food.
He very gingerly touched my lower spine, indicating me to sit at his dining room table.
"So... I was wondering, how did you... You know, escape?"
I looked down at my food, whispering the seventh lie. "The fire." He sat down across from me.
Patrick didn't know, and I wouldn't let him know. It wasn't safe.
We stayed silent for a while, seemingly as we always do. Silence interrupted by dialogue.
"You know, we could tell the police. Get you help. I mean, what kind of sick fetish could someone have that would make them do this to you? There were staples on your calf. They could have done worse, but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I won't look. They're gone, but... What if there are others like them?"
All I've done in the past 72 hours is worry people and lie to them.
I let out an exasperated sigh, which came out as more of a washed out sob. Probably making the story more believable, but making myself look more vulnerable in this case. "Patrick... I don't think I should. I mean, they're already dead. I don't think there'll be some kind of cult of rapists with a specific kind of fetish. I don't want attention drawn to me. Thank you, though."
"But this is pre-"
"Patrick, no. Please, no. I don't want this. It would be better if no one knew," I said, trying to be firm but mild at the same time. "Are the others here?"
Just then, I heard footsteps clomping down the stairs. "Hey, you guys already up?" A new guy, who I kindly nicknamed 'Fro, looked me up and down. I shrunk back into Patrick's shirt like a turtle, hoping to cover my mottled arms.
"Not you, though. You've been asleep for a day." 'Fro said.
"Yeah. Hey, do you wanna set up a movie or something?" Patrick inquired. "Technically, Ember's not really supposed to be out of bed, considering she's been hurt so badly."
My face flushed red, considering that he was trying to convince me to speak up with his harsh wordplay. 'Fro, who I renamed as Fluffy, looked at me strangely but said nothing.
We agreed to some movie called Ghostbusters, which was the only one they could agree to. I didn't pay attention, but instead fell asleep on Patrick's couch while he and Fluffy whispered about something. Me, probably.
I dove in and out of sleep, having flashbacks of knives and women in black leather. But, by far, the most disturbing was Patrick, surrounded by flames of my own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pete's POV

I woke up from the annoying text tone I had Patrick's contact saved under. Groaning, my fingers stretched over to the nightstand, retrieving my phone.

<Patrick>
Hey man. found out shes a rape victim, but she wont tell the police. I think Ill just leave the subject alone for now. Will you come over?

I groggily texted back, squinting my eyes due to the brightness of the small screen.

<Pete>
Sure. be there in 20.

(A/N: PLEASE
GIVE ME FEEDBACK
I'M SO LONELY
I DON'T BITE
Sorry for cheesy filler chapter.
Peace.
Bye.)