The night was filled with inescapable dreams, emotional suffering, and pain I couldn't appease. To say enough, it was one of the worst I'd ever had.
When I finally woke, I moved to sit up, then the broken bones in my hand decided to make themselves very known and I cried out. But it wasn't enough to send some poor nurse running. In fact, there were no nurses here at all. I was still in the safe room.
I had no idea that an attack could last so long. The thought of it chilled me to the bone. I wondered if they were still looking for me. I wondered if Dock, the one who had let me free, had been punished for releasing me.
I observed the room. It was bustling, despite the fact that there weren't too many people. I was tucked into a reserved corner of the room, spread out on two cots pushed side by side. Maxon was slumped in a chair next to his parents. He didn't seem to be quite sleeping; he was staring off into space at…no one. He looked like he needed sleep worse than I did.
I inspected my own injuries. My ankle was brutally twisted at an awkward angle, but as far as I could tell, nothing was broken. I should be able to walk again in a few days. If we got out of here in a few days… My wrist was definitely broken. But it was wrapped and appeared to have been tended to gingerly.
I was absolutely exhausted. I needed sleep to stabilize and heal. But I was afraid. The dreams were one after another, brutal and horrific. I didn't think I could go through that again.
I tried to stay awake for as long as I could, but it wasn't long. I scooted backwards and leaned against the wall, hoping if the dreams got to bad, I might be able to jolt myself awake. I let my eyes flutter shut.
What seemed to be only moments later, a simple touch woke me. I felt someone touch my hand. At first it was only that – a touch. Then it was like someone was grasping my hand as if it was the only thing holding him or her to the earth. I let my eyes slowly open –
Maxon.
He looked startled, like he hadn't been expecting me to be awake. "Sorry," he said quickly, awkwardly. But he didn't release my hand. I almost smiled. Almost. "I didn't mean to wake you, my dear."
Then I did smile. Normally, I'd tell him off for the nickname, but now…it felt long overdue. "I was already awake. Bad dreams," I explained. My voice was hoarse from misuse. I vaguely wondered how long I'd been out.
Maxon's eyebrows furrowed. "No objection?" he questioned skeptically.
"It's better than 'Lady America,'" I told him calmly.
His face fell, and he let his head fall forward. Maxon's expression turned stony. "I know, I'm sorry," he murmured.
I felt a flash of anger. So my nearly getting killed is what it took for him to apologize? I'd realized what I'd done was terrible. I knew that directly from the start. But he had overreacted just a tad bit. "Don't apologize to me, Maxon," I said, slipping my hand out from under his. "Clearly I've been replaced."
"I don't understand," Maxon stated. "What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb with me!" I snapped, and lowered my voice before I drew attention. "I saw you with Kriss. I told you. That was for us!"
"Well, America, I could point out that you took something that was supposed to be ours and threw it away," he growled.
"Are we really doing this right now?" I asked him, my voice pathetically weak.
Maxon sighed heavily and plopped his head into his hands. He changed the subject, though it wasn't any less grim. "How many times have I told you to keep someone with you? In this situation, even you have to admit that we could've avoided some injuries if you had just had someone there," he pointed out.
"Who would I keep, Maxon? A maid? We've talked about that. They spend all day waiting on me, especially in these past few days. I won't do that to them. A guard?" I snorted out loud. "We both know how that turned out."
Maxon winced as I mentioned it, and for a moment I felt sorry. But it went away. "Fine, then. I have a different solution." I didn't bother to ask what his 'different solution' was. I was too exhausted.
The two of us sat in silence for a while, listening only to each other's breathing and the chaos around the room. Distantly, I felt the stares of maybe two girls on Maxon and I, but nearly everyone else was trying to get sleep.
"She doesn't know what it means," Maxon finally spoke again.
"What?" I asked. My tone came out sharper than intended.
"Kriss doesn't know what it means. The ear tugging, I mean. One night, she came up to me and said she'd noticed me doing it. She asked what it meant. I didn't want to keep secrets from who I thought would be my future fiancé, plus I was still pretty upset at you, so I told her it was a way of saying 'hi.' She believed it, but then she started using it with me. I didn't want to lie to her," Maxon explained.
It wasn't enough. It still hurt so, so terribly. But it was something. "But you did. Lie to her."
"Not technically. Between Kriss and I, that's what it is. Between me and you, it's something entirely different."
I nodded. I understood. My anger was entirely gone. I wanted Maxon to hold my hand again. I wanted him to hold me. I wanted everything back to normal. I slid down and rested my head on a pillow, and then I scooted over so I was occupying one of the doubled cot.
It had the desired effect. I felt the bed jumble around as Maxon laid down next to me. He reached out and clasped my hand, and I was able to fall into a dreamless sleep. But I noticed as the words "who I thought would be my future fiancé," bounced around my mind.