As long as the light shines in one of you, the other will live. Maybe he was alive. Even as the thought rose inside her, she recognized it for what it was: denial, hope’s best and worst friend. Hope warmed her cold body and inflated her heart until the muscle threatened to burst. Hope forced her eyelids open.
Light pierced her brain, so she peeked out through the fringe of her lashes. A man sat beside the bed watching her. She willed his features to sharpen into the chiseled lines of Lathan’s face, his eyes to morph into silver, his skin to darken with thick freckles. No matter how long she stared, he didn’t change.
“Oh, you’re awake.” He placed his hand on her forehead like a mother—not her mother, of course—checking a child’s temperature. “It’s been almost three days. I was worried.” When she couldn’t find any words to say, he continued. “I’m not sure how much you remember from before. I’m James.” He spoke in a perfectly articulate manner—so different from the slight distortion of Lathan’s speech.
“Where’s Lathan?” Her words were a frantic whisper. “Where is he? Where am I?”
James patted her hand. “You’re safe from whoever hurt you. No one will find you here. But Lathan…” James’s voice trailed off, his eyes aimed at a spot on the wall. “I-I don’t know his exact location, but I-I…assume a morgue or maybe a funeral home.” He winced as if he could see how his words broke her.
He kept talking, but she wasn’t capable of listening.
The last fragile thread bearing the full weight of her sanity snapped. Evanee heard the soft snap, felt the pressure release resonating through her body. Hopelessness smothered her, killing the will to live. But her heart continued to pump and her lungs continued to suck. Her stupid body hadn’t gotten the message her mind was sending. She was done. Done with life. Done with death. Done with all of it.
She came back to reality when James picked her up and carried her across the room to the bathroom. He settled her on the toilet. She let loose of her bladder. He wiped her like a child. She didn’t care. He was a stranger, touching her intimately, and yet she couldn’t find the will—a reason—to care. He could torture her, rape her, kill her, but he’d never be able to hurt her as badly as she ached for Lathan.
Without any emotion, she watched as he filled the tub with water. He unbuttoned her shirt, removed it, then picked her up and settled her in the water. She wanted to go back to sleep, and more than anything, she wanted never to wake up, but Mr. Sandman wasn’t cooperating with the first of her wishes, so the asshole probably wouldn’t comply with the second.
James washed her as tenderly as a child. She didn’t care she was naked and he was seeing her body or scrubbing her private places. Her body didn’t matter; her mind didn’t matter. The only thing worth caring about was gone.
“I can’t live without him,” she whispered, afraid to say the words too loud.
James paused in his washing and met her gaze. “Hush now. The darkest night always births the most breathtaking dawn.”
She sensed his words held a profound meaning, but couldn’t see beyond her pain.
After the bath, he dried her off, re-bandaged her chest, dressed her, and tucked her into bed.
“Now go to sleep, Evanee. You’ll feel better the next time you wake.”
She closed her eyes but knew nothing was ever going to make her feel better.
*
“Evanee. I need you to wake up. Come on. Open your eyes, Evanee. You can do it. Just for a little while.” James’s voice wheedled and droned on and on and on, keeping her just awake enough to know how awful she felt. Finally, she gave in and opened her eyes, just to shut him up.
“Good girl. I knew you could wake up.” He held a glass full of a white liquid. A jaunty pink straw poked out the top. “I need you to drink all of this. You haven’t eaten anything in four days. Your body needs calories, protein, vitamins, and minerals to heal itself.” He held the straw to her lips.
Took too much effort to argue, so she began to slurp it down. The drink was cold and slimy in her mouth, and she suspected it was a blessing that she couldn’t taste it. When almost two-thirds of the drink was gone, she paused. “Where’s Lathan?” she asked.
James stared into her eyes. “I know you remember. What I don’t know is why you keep torturing yourself.”
“So I don’t ever forget it’s my fault he’s dead.” She sucked down the rest of the drink. After the last swallow, she said, “My fault. All my fault.”
Mr. Sandman must’ve been in a good mood because he granted her sleep the moment she closed her eyes.
*
Infinite, incessant, infernal whiteness in every direction.
The White Place.
No longer possessing enough energy to hold herself upright, she felt her legs fold beneath her. She didn’t brace herself against the fall, but the ground rose up, capturing her body in a cushioned embrace. Even that novel experience wasn’t enough to make her care. Nor was the sensation of not being alone anymore.
She felt a presence with her. The presence didn’t possess the terrible wrongness she normally felt in the White Place, but it sure didn’t feel benign. It wanted something from her and was frustrated with her. And then she recognized the presence. It was the Thing that could control her body, The Thing that hurt her. And still she didn’t care. Maybe this time it would kill her and she could be reunited with Lathan in whatever form the afterlife took.
Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. The words were a benediction.
A bizarre kind of silence halted all her thoughts—turned them off completely, leaving a fearful void where her mind used to be.
You will overcome. The Thing spoke, but it didn’t. The words bypassed her ears and originated from deep within her brain in a soundless voice. You are the Bearer of Dreams. You are required.
Her thoughts floated out of the abyss. I don’t care.
You are needed.
I don’t care.
I will force you.
I know.
So why fight?
I’m not fighting. I’m submitting. I give up. But this is the last time. For some moments, she was completely alone in the blank space where her thoughts used to be. Maybe the Thing had left.
No. Its energy charged the air, and she could feel its invasion in her brain—taking her thoughts.
You would end your existence?