Oscillation | [H.S]

Chapter 15

My body was having trouble with warming up again. I was still covered in a cold sweat and I was really cooling down now. The blankets were cold and couldn't let the fabric touch the stitches because Harry didn't cover them again with any bandage and it hurt a lot.

Silent tears streaked my cheeks as I kept shivering. I thought I had it terrible at the orphanage, but I could never imagine the situation getting worse. All I could wish for was a warm hug from a loved one and it made my chest ache. I had no loved ones left.

My parents had died in a car crash on their way home from a dinner with some friends. There was never a reason concluded for the crash. My dad hadn't drank, he was in perfect health and did not have a stroke. That was one of the hardest parts for me, still. I had never gotten real closure as their cause of death remained unknown.

I was being babysat at that time by Shelly-Ann, a sixteen year-old who came over regularly to earn some money. She often played a game with me or two before sending me up to bed and hang on the couch for the rest of the time. I did not really like her and never spoke to her again after she left me with child services.

My parents had no real close family either. My mother's side had all died in their early ages and my dad was raised by a single mom who died only two days after my parents had. It was the most tragic story; a 13-year old girl who was totally orphaned within 48 hours.

A couple had adopted me only three weeks after, which was deemed a miracle. Older kids did not often get adopted. It took three months for me to be sent back to the orphanage. My stomach churned thinking about the three months I spent with the elder couple. They had loose hands so I was no stranger to minor abuse.

I pushed the thoughts about that time away quickly. It didn't get much better afterwards. I couldn't make friendships easily at the orphanage and if I did, the kids got adopted and I would end up alone again. I learned to just mind my own business at the age of fifteen.

The busy thoughts made my eyes droop again and I shivered myself to sleep slowly.

I woke up screaming again, a while later. I could still see the tall, faceless silhouettes in the room with their knives, slicing my arms open again and again until I confessed to a crime I didn't do. I couldn't obey. I couldn't give up.

My door was thrown open harshly. Harry's gaze was thunderous when he stood in the door opening. He slammed the light switch and breathed harshly. Luckily he was without a gun this time.

I was shivering violently again and my breathing was short. It felt like I was breathing but the oxygen didn't want to settle in my lungs.

"Sorry." I gasped between my heavy breathing. "Nightmare again." My chest tightened. I only had a panic-attack once in my life and it was about to become two.  My heart was fluttering in my chest rapidly. I felt like exploding from sadness and pain. Everything was just building up and up and up.

The room was spinning and Harry was walking upside down towards me. His shirt was a black square and threatened to swallow me like a black hole. I wheezed.

"Ican'tbreathe" I whispered but I wondered if Harry could even understand me. If he could, I wondered if he would even care.

A hand was placed on my back, the warmth seeping through the thin fabric of my shirt.

"Listen." Harry's voice echoed through my head. Through my blurry vision I could see Harry's lips moving but reality seemed too hard to grasp. "Move with my hands."

A warm hand was also placed on my upper chest and pressure was applied for several seconds whereafter release followed suit. It took a while to meet the tempo. Reality slowly creeped up again as the rhythm continued and the noise in my ears subdued. My breathing had started to become less ragged but the shivering never stopped.

Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed and his hands retreated when he saw I was less panicked. His eyes scanned my tear-stained face, which must look disgusting as I could feel the damp sweat matting my hair to my forehead.

He got up again and retreated to what I guessed another ensuite once again, coming back not a minute later. His hands were holding a glass of water, a package of bandages and another cloth. He gave the cloth to me first without a word.

I used it hesitantly, knowing in the back of my head that nothing was ever for free. I wiped my face clean of sweat, tears and probably some snot. He handed me the glass of water next, which I emptied greedily. It soothed my raw throat.

"Arm." He demanded after I had emptied the glass. I wondered why he never said many words to me. He was so cold, harsh and distant. He squirted a clear fluid on top of the infected wound which made me hiss in pain. The smell of alcohol filled my nose. His fingers wrapped a new bandage around the stitches expertly. I was still wondering what had happened to my arm.

"I'm sorry." I apologised again when the light casted just the right shadows on his face to show me how exhausted he seemed. I was also grateful that he expressed a bit of caring behaviour. It assured me that I might still be able to wake up tomorrow morning.

"Lay down." He commanded, his voice low. I followed his order, looking at him with wide eyes and sniffed softly again. He pushed me to the other side a bit more with merely one arm and draped his huge body right next to mine, still clad in only a pair of boxers and a shirt.

I knew nothing was for free. Some time passed as I waited for his next order. Maybe he would demand a blowjob again, maybe even more.

He never said anything, just grabbed my good arm and pulled me against his strong body. His hand took my right arm and draped it over his broad chest so that I was spooning his side. I didn't dare to breathe.

His skin was warm and even though the nervousness in my body didn't settle, I could feel myself relax a little bit into the warmth. I could hear his strong heart beat, his skin lifting up ever so slightly with the rhythm. I wanted to open my mouth to ask him why but he was quicker.

"Don't speak." He spoke, his voice echoing in his chest. I dared to look up through my lashes and his face was scarce of any emotion. With his eyes closed and his mouth just a little open he looked a bit less threatening.

Suddenly, as if he could feel my eyes on him, his hand shot out towards the night stand and he flicked the small light off. The darkness that engulfed the room now made me feel scared again. I couldn't see what could happen now. My body tensed up.

His left arm that was supporting his head earlier moved down and laid down behind me, almost holding me in that position. I could still roll over but I would need to roll over his arm.

"Just go to sleep." He mumbled almost incoherently, as if he was on his way to unconsciousness already. I didn't dare to, still afraid to fall asleep when he was this close. One is most vulnerable when asleep.

"Are you going to kill me when I do?" I asked him softly, scared. His chest rose up and down at a slow pace a few times before talking again.

"Not yet."

I didn't think I could ever find these words comforting but my heart pounded a little less harsh against my ribs in that moment.