Page 6 of Always Watching
The man plants one hand over my mouth and the other at my throat, cutting off my airway. I struggle against his hold, looking at him with wide eyes. Even though I’m hitting him and fighting back as hard as I can, nothing is affecting this man who’s attacking me.
Who is he? Why is he doing this? I don’t think I have any enemies, or that I’ve offended anyone. So why me? What could I have done that’s so bad someone wants to hurt me, attack me in my own home?
Could it have something to do with that bear? I’ve been getting shitty notes, but the bear and the photo album are the first packages I’ve received. Why is he toying with me?
Though I’m trying to fight my way out of this, my vision fuzzes out, going black at the edges. My eyes bulge even more and I try to plead with my attacker with my gaze.Please. I don’t want to die. Not here. Not yet. I still have so much to do.
Almost as if he hears my mental pleading, the pressure leaves my throat and my chest. I take greedy pulls of air, though I have to fight to hang on to consciousness. It’s made even worse because of the coughing fit I’m having. I can’t seem to get enough air into my lungs.
The man looks back at the door, then hops off the bed and runs to my window. He throws it open and climbs out onto the fire escape.
I should be thrilled that I’m safe—that I’m alive—but I can’t move. My vision is still darkening, as if he succeeded in my demise and I’m a spectator to my death.
My eyelids feel heavy, like there are ten pound weights dragging them down, and something tickles my face, but I can’t raise my arms to swat it away. I can’t move anything but my eyes as I blink slowly, and my chest as it rises and falls with my breathing. Breathing that’s too slow and shallow to be healthy.
My body, which was just in tremendous pain, feels light and airy, as if I could float away. Maybe I can close my eyes for a bit… just for a little while. I won’t be in pain if I sleep.
As if from far away, I hear my bedroom door open again. My heart seizes up, and I know it’s my attacker coming back to finish the job. I should have closed my eyes when I had the chance—played dead so he’d leave me alone—but it’s too late for that.
Blue-green eyes enter my field of vision. Not the brown eyes of the man who tried to choke me to death. I can tell it’s not the same man. What does this one want? Is he here to finish me off? Are they a duo who tag team to commit murder?
He tilts his head to the side, pushing the hair back from my face.
“Please,” I whisper, my eyes drooping even lower. “Don’t… hurt me… anymore.”
A deep rumbling voice says, “I won’t hurt you, Ranen.”
I wish I could believe that. I wish I could trust the word of a stranger, but a stranger just tried to kill me.
At his words, my vision flickers in and out, my memory kind of hazy. I feel myself being lifted from the bed. Then the motion of a car speeding down the road. When I come to next, I’m inside a brightly lit room, strong hands cradling me to their chest. I hear shouting, a tug of war going on with my savior and someone else pulling at me roughly.
Then nothing. I fall into the realm of tiredness, everything blissfully quiet and where no more pain can reach me.
My head is pounding. The throbbing is all-consuming, pulsing to the beat of my heart. I try to raise a hand to touch it, but my arm feels like it weighs fifty pounds.
With great effort, I drag my eyes open, then shut them immediately. The bright white room almost singes my retinas. I count to ten, then try again.
This time, it’s easier to look at my surroundings.
I’m in a hospital. Looking down, I see an IV in my arm and a pulse oximeter on my left index finger. A blood-pressure cuff puffs up on my arm and I groan, the tightening of the cuff making my head throb anew.
What the fuck? Why am I here? What happened?
“How do you feel?” a soft but deep voice says.
I can’t help it—I scream. I scream and throw my weighted hands up, trying to cover my face and protect myself from blows.
“Hey, hey!” the man shouts. I tremble, tears rolling down my cheeks as I slide away from him. My body feels like a big bruise, but I need to get away. For some reason, I’m afraid.
Rough but gentle hands pull my arms from my face, and I’m met with blue-green eyes. Blue-green, not brown. Why do brown eyes—
As if waiting for me to search for them, the memories come rushing back to me. The package I thought was a toy from my wish list, the creepy photo album, the masked man that entered my room and attacked me, and the beating… God, the beating. It was bad. Really bad. Probably why I feel like a bullet train has run me over.
Brown eyes were the only identifying marker of the man that attacked me. Not blue-green. No, blue-green means help. It means safety.
Who is this man?
I look him over, and even though I feel like I’m on death’s door, I can appreciate how handsome he is. His dark hair is longer at the top and cut close on the sides. Some of it hangs in his face, and my fingers do this funny twitching thing, as if they want to reach out and push it back.
