Salvation

Salvation #21

The dark swarms around me, concealing my bruised body. I stagger around the basement, feeling my way through the gloom. My bare feet graze the cold concrete and the shadows dance around my ankles.

"Mañana," Nate's voice breaks through the eerie silence. Blinding light streaks through between the door and the thick frame.

I freeze and stare at him through the silvery, artificial light. A backpack is slung loosely over his shoulder and his brown hair hides the gash on his temple.

Gently he closes the door behind him and bounds swiftly down the stairs. "Bloody hell Nate," I mutter, taking a cautious step forward. I brush his hair back, revealing the raw wound.

"You two got into another fight didn't you?" I breathe. Nate shakes his head, tearing away from me. "It's from yesterday."

My lips tighten at the corners, "He hit you harder then I thought."

Nate shrugs, dumping the bag on the floor. "One of the causes of epilepsy is brain injury caused by trauma to the head."

"You think he did it to you?"

"It's a theory," Nate murmurs.

I stagger backward before sitting down against the wall. My back presses against it's icy surface and my head falls back against the stone.

"Elle?"

"Hmm?"

"You don't look too good," Nate sighs.

"Well I'm not surprised," I mumble.

"No you look sick," Nate says, kneeling down beside me.

Carefully he presses the back of his hand against my cheek. "You have a fever."

"I feel fine," I lie.

Nate drags the bag closer, yanking open the zipper. "Here," he holds a plastic bottle of water out to me. I curl my fingers around it, cracking the lid off.

Trembling I raise it to my dried, cracked lips. The cool water slips over my tongue and rolls down my throat. I scull it and drain the bottle of it's contents.

Gasping for air I drag the bottle away from my lips. It beads around the corners of my mouth.

"You need to eat something," Nate murmurs quietly. He rummages though the backpack, tossing out packets of food. The boxes rattle against the floor.

I scoop one of them up, rolling the box of fruit bars against my knees. Shaking, I try to tear through the packaging. "Here," Nate's hands hover over mine, easily ripping through the packet.

"Thanks," my voice is awkward inside my throat.

Nate stares through the dark, focusing on something distant. "I think your dad might be figuring it out." My fingers manage to split the plastic wrapping around the bar.

Pain twists around my heart. The ache spreads across my chest, pressing against my lungs. A slight whimper spreads over my tongue. "I want to go home." A frail sob catches in the back of my throat.

Nate hesitates before curling his arm around my shoulders. He pulls me against his chest, tucking a loose strand of my auburn hair behind my ear.

"I know," he murmurs softly. He rests his head on top of mine, carefully tracing the edge of my jaw. The warmth of his skin against mine dances over my flesh, leaking into my vanes.

I burrow my face into his shoulder and cry. My fingers knot amongst his t-shirt and my dark hair tumbles down the side of his neck, brushing his back.