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9.
She's shaking violently. He supports her elbow as she lifts her hand from the machinery and her waist as she staggers to the chair. He kneels upright on the floor beside her. Her fingertips are bloody and swollen and he has to bite his lip to prevent himself crying out at the sight of them.
She's pale and her cheeks are tear stained – again. His own eyes prickle at the sight. He lifts the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head. Gently, he lifts her hand and places the t-shirt beneath it, on her lap. He folds the material around her fingers as a dressing. There's nothing to secure it with other than his hand, which he lies gently on her wrist, far enough from the injured area to not cause additional pain.
"Thank you," she whispers.
He shakes his head. He doesn't want her thanks. He should have stopped this.
"Do you think they'll fall off? The nails."
"I- I dunno, they might," he replies, not wanting to lie to her.
"Great. I'm going to have a hand of sausage fingers."
He doesn't need to tell her that losing a few nails is the least of her worries. He knows that reacting over trivial matters is her way of dealing with the more serious.
He stretches up to kiss her forehead. "Well, I'll still hold it."
"I'd rather you didn't." She closes her eyes and another tear escapes. "It hurts."
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear then wipes at her damp cheeks. He wishes he could take the pain away from her. "What can I do?" he asks desperately.
"Just don't stop that."
"What?"
"That." She opens her eyes and her good hand comes to rest on top of his hand that's stroking her cheek, her hair, her jaw. "I need you."
"I'm not going anywhere," he tells her. He looks deep into her eyes and hopes that someone she can see how much he wants to protect her and that, somehow, she gets some reassurance from it.
"Time for your next treatment. Please spin again."
Hanna visibly sags. He drags the second chair around from the other side of the table and sits next to her, so he can stay as close as possible. She leans against him.
"You want me to do it?" he asks.
"One each again," she says. She spins the dial for treatments and the arrow lands on 'massage'.
They exchange a look. It means nothing in this context. The next selection is the significant one. He spins the arrow and holds his breath as it turns, hoping it lands on him.
It lands on Hanna.
She buries her face in his chest. He reaches over her and pushes the arrow into the next section. Him. His movement alerts her and she looks up and sees what he's done.
She pushes the arrow back onto her, glaring at him. "What are you doing? Don't make it mad!" she hisses.
"It's my turn!"
"The game doesn't work like that!"
"Whose side are you on, A's?" he snaps, regretting it instantly. Hanna sits upright and away from him. He sighs deeply. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. I just want to stop you getting hurt."
"Congratulations, Caleb! You have earned a complimentary upgrade when you receive your first treatment."
"See, this is what I meant," she says, wide eyed. "You promised, remember? You can't protect me or it's just going to make things worse. I don't want to see you get hurt either."
"Fine," he says, drawing the vowels out. He's less worried about A's threat to him than he is about whatever Hanna's got to go through first.
"Are we okay?"
"Of course."
Much like the last time, a portion unfolds from the wall, this time looking like a massage couch with the face hole at one end.
He raises an eyebrow. "You get the feeling A's a fan of Tetris?"
"A fan of horror movies, more like!" She stands up, cradling her injured hand. "I have to lie on that?"
"I guess so."
She takes a deep breath and walks across to it, getting in position on her stomach. He's just two paces behind, intending to hold her hand throughout, but a transparent cover shoots out from the wall, encasing the couch and Hanna upon it. She twists, hammering on the case, trying to get free. He does the same, scouring the edges for some way to get into it but there's nothing. Hanna's trapped.
He sees it first. Rats being fed into the see-through coffin she's trapped in. A couple start to crawl on her back and she screams, trying to turn over.
"What is it?"
He hesitates. He knows she's terrified of all rodents.
"Caleb, what is it?"
"It- it's nothing to worry about, just a few rats."
"Rats! Oh my god." She twists about, trying to shake them off her, instead making them dig in their claws as they try to cling on. "Ow, ow, it's attacking me."
"Hanna, lay still and it'll be fine. They're not going to hurt you."
If she hears him, she doesn't listen. She's getting hysterical.
"Han, babe, deep breaths. You can do this. Breathe, okay? In… and out…" The exaggerated breathing he does as an example is helping him too. "In… Out. You've got this."
"Talk to me," she says from inside the box.
"What about?"
"Anything. I need a distraction."
"Okay," he says, though his mind's suddenly gone blank. "So, um, my brother got his first girlfriend."
"Oh really?" she says through gritted teeth. "Which one?"
"James." He surprises himself with the laugh that slips out. "He rang me. He never rings me. Wanted to know where he should take her for their date. The problem being he only had five dollars to his name."
"Wait, I thought your Mom was loaded."
"She makes them work for their allowance. Clay's practically got his own business going out of it but James is happy to be poor if it means he gets to kick back."
"So where did you suggest he take her?"
He's relieved she sounds calmer now even if she's still squirming about in there.
"The park to buy them both an ice cream!"
"That would have worked for me at that age."
"It did make me think of you," he admits. "I mean, when I was their age, the girls I knew had kinda different interests…" he breaks off, the memories uncomfortable. "But we were only a couple of years older when we met and, as I recall, you were more than comfortable being outdoors."
"If you're talking about our camping trip, this is really not the time or place."
"Hey, you brought it up," he says, with a smile.
"Caleb-" she says, sounding panicky again. "I think there's a rat going up my top."
He checks. There's a rat walking across a small expanse of skin where her top has risen but it's not showing any signs of trying to get beneath it. "There's not," he assures her.
"Really? You would tell me-?"
"I- yeah-"
"because I can feel it's horrible little feet."
"Pull your top down a bit," he suggests.
She reaches around with her unharmed hand but it lands on the rat. She shrieks. "No, no, I can't."
"Okay, then just let it be. It'll be over soon, right? How long does a massage usually take?"
"I don't know, like an hour?"
He cringes. He hadn't expected it to be anywhere near that long. "Well, we'll just keep talking then."
She scrunches up her face. "Tell me about Europe."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. The parts that don't involve Spencer, obviously."
He silently agrees. Europe was an explosion of emotions and memories and it's hard to separate the places he'd been with Spencer from the person. But he'd visited multiple cities and countries solo too and he's much more comfortable talking about those.
"The pancakes are better in Europe," he says.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I found this little bistro in Paris. It's just around the corner from the Eiffel Tower so if you get the window seat, you can see it as you eat. They do the best pancakes… crêpes," he says, with a poor attempt at a French accent. "But then, in the evening, they get someone in to play the piano, and everyone just sits there, and drinks wine, and listens."
"Sounds romantic," she says, her voice barely strained.
"Yeah, it is. I'll take you there one day."
She doesn't reply at first and he knows she's thinking, as he is, about whether they'll ever get free for the trip to happen.
"Where else will we go?" she asks, playing along.
"I heard Venice is pretty romantic too."
"Did you go?"
"No. It wasn't possible to fit everywhere in, however much I wanted to. But that's good. It means we get to experience it for the first time together."
"Will you take me on one of those little boats?"
"A gondola? Sure."
She lets out a little squeak as one of the creatures moves quickly across her back. "There's no rats in Europe right?"
"None at all," he says, with a wry smile.
Eventually, the transparent casing lifts. Hanna scrambles off the coach and into his arms. He holds her close. Over her shoulder, he can see the rats scuttling across the floor. He walks them backwards, gently guiding her away from that corner of the room and hoping, for her sake, they don't decide to explore.
He can feel her chest heaving as she processes the ordeal.
"I'm so proud of you," he murmurs in her ear. Her hair tickles his nose.
She doesn't reply in words, but he feels her relax into the embrace.
"Please select your next treatment."
She stiffens, then pushes away from his chest. His hands fall from her shoulders, catching her at the elbow before they lose all contact.
"Not again," she says.
He chews at the inside of his lip. "Maybe it'll be okay this time."
"Have you forgotten where we are?"
"Please select your next treatment."
He spins the person dial first this time. It's stupid, he knows it's pot luck, but spinning it himself feels like he has some element of control. It can't allow it to be Hanna again this time. Gradually the arrow grinds to a halt on the option which reads 'your choice'.
He doesn't hesitate.
"Me," he says.
She stares at the dial and then moves her gaze to Caleb. "Are you crazy, we don't even know what it is yet!"
"I don't care. You've done two and you're hurt. It's me."
She shakes her head. Her fingers are throbbing and she can still feel the sensation of the rats crawling all over her back, so of course she doesn't want to have the next one too, but the first bit of control A's offered to them and Caleb's taken it away again.
"Let's see what it is and then we can think about this properly."
"Your decision has been made. Please spin to select your treatment."
He tilts his head and offers her a half-smile looking triumphant.
"You're an idiot," she says.
"Want to spin and seal my fate?"
"No." She glares at him for a second but does it anyway. As the arrow rotates, she feels nauseous, recalling A's earlier promise to make it worse for Caleb thanks to his earlier attempt at cheating the game. It lands on 'dip in the pool'.
Her head falls into her hands. She feels him squeezing her shoulder and looks sidewise at him. "Did you happen to learn how to swim in Europe?"
"I can swim," he says, touchily, but he's looking just off her eyes.
Across from them, a partition lifts, turning what they thought was solid wall into a window. The other side is a swimming pool, modest in size, probably deeper than it is wide. They move closer to inspect it, their fingers leaving smudges on the glass.
"This is ridiculous," she says, "you can't do this."
"It'll be fine, Hanna. They'll just throw in some- some fish or something like they did with you."
"Oh, so you'll just get eaten alive by Jaws, that's reassuring."
"Jaws is a shark."
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't put it past A to breed sharks for fun!"
"Caleb, please proceed to the pool."
She fumbles for his hand and squeezes it tight. "I don't want you to."
"I know." He holds her hand between both of his and looks her straight in the eye. "But it will be fine, I promise."
Gently, he lifts her fingers, forcing her to let go. She remembers what happens the last time they were separated and wants to cry.
"I'll be back before you know it," he tells her.
He goes through the adjoining door. She hears the latch click but tries it anyway. It's locked firm. She takes her position by the window, where she can watch every moment. On the other side of the glass, he wriggles out of his jeans, leaving them in a heap on the floor, then sits on the edge of the pool with his legs in the water.
He looks at her and says something. She can't hear him but she knows the words his lips formed.
"Love you too," she says back.
He gives her a smile then pushes himself into the water.
He splashes around, managing to stay afloat through vigour rather than technique. She groans. It should be her in there. She's not a fantastic swimmer either but she at least had the luxury of lessons as a child whereas he missed out.
The next thing she sees is his body violently jerk and then she notices something that looks like an animal trap clamp around his leg, pulling him down under the water. He struggles, his arms flailing as he tries to return to the surface. But even someone like Emily wouldn't be able to swim with an anchor pulling them to the bottom. A shiver runs through her body. He's going to drown.
She runs to the door and tugs at the handle, pulling and pushing and kicking when it won't open. She looks up. He's still underwater. He won't be able to breathe. She needs to get him out. She grabs a chair and throws it at the window. The chair breaks but the window's clearly shatterproof and does not. She hammers a fist on it and screams his name. Hot tears fall down her cheeks. He's still struggling but his movements are getting slower and she thinks he might be dying.
She tries to scream Caleb's name again but it comes out as one long wail. He can't die. He can't die for real this time. Then the clamp releases him and she expects to see him swim to the surface but he does not. The door lock clicks open and this time she can run through it. She dives into the water without a second thought. The liquid soaks her jeans instantly, dragging her down but she swims against it. Her injured hand throbs from the motion but it doesn't matter. There's blood in the water from Caleb's leg. She grabs Caleb around the waist and pulls them both above water.
"Caleb! Caleb!" she pants. There's no response. "No!"
She climbs up the steps backwards, dragging him with her. He's limp and heavy and she only drags him as far as she needs to to get him out of the water. She falls to her knees beside him. His chest is still. His lips are parted but she can't feel any air coming out. He's not breathing.
She's seen this before on movies but doesn't know if it's the right thing to do. She angles his head back, inhales and then places her mouth on his, breathing as deeply as she can into him. She pulls back just enough to check. There's no reaction. He remains prone. His eyes are still closed. She breathes for him again, pushing air into his lungs, again and again, until she feels breathless herself and even then she doesn't stop.
Her tears are falling faster now, getting in the way, but she doesn't have time to wipe them. The only thing that matter now is Caleb.
Then there's a splutter and she feels water hit her face. Caleb rolls on his side, coughing, retching, spluttering up water and the noise is terrible and wonderful at the same time.
"Caleb?"
He coughs again and she hears more liquid hit the floor. And then he's gasping for air, trying to push himself up on his forearms at the same time but slipping back down, his chest heaving, breaths rattling, and she doesn't know what to do.
"Are you okay?" she asks, tearfully.
He doesn't respond, just keeps coughing and gasping, making noises like a wounded animal. She climbs over his legs, over his bleeding ankle, and tries to check for herself that he's okay. But all she sees is him pale, spluttering up water and gasping for breath so desperately that he sounds like he's choking.
"Caleb. Caleb, breathe, baby. Breathe."