*Apologies.. again, to all those who have patiently waited for the next
chapter. Thanks for the support. Hope this will do justice to your
expectations*
Veronica sat on the bed, watching Malone. He was an arm's length away from her, but it was so hard for her to reach out and offer him physical comfort.
'I should've been there to help you, instead of running off like a coward. I'm sorry Ned..'
'I'm so sorry.'
Malone lifted his head at the sound of her voice; saw through a haze of gray a blonde girl by his side. He shivered, but out of cold and not fear. He studied her familiar face, head cocked to one side.
The girl looked at him, smiled, stretched a hand towards him.
Veronica saw the flicker of recognition when their gaze met. Her heart leapt.
'Maybe he does remember, maybe he knows I won't do him harm,' she whispered to herself. She smiled, brought a hand to his shoulder.
Malone looked at her, eyes still clouded with pain, but somewhere behind all that was gratitude fighting its way past. This was the touch he felt as the whip stung his back. Her hand had somehow reached him in his darkest hours. That same touch kept his sanity.
'Angel,' he whispered hoarsely.
Veronica jumped at the sound of his voice. Angel, he called her. Too deserving a name. No angel would desert her love.
She sat back shakily as more tears traced their paths downwards. Malone placed a palm on her cheek.
'Don't cry angel,' he said, his voice taking on a child-like quality. For a moment, he was a small boy looking up at her, blue eyes soft and innocent.
Then it was gone.
Veronica shuddered as the wounds on his face and body re-emerged with ugly clarity. She knew that it wasn't only blood he lost. He had also lost his innocence and faith in the goodwill of men.
She stood up, not trusting herself to speak, but just silently helped him into a prone position. He relaxed in her arms; instinctively knowing she would not hurt him. Then a wave of blackness washed over him and he passed out.
Veronica felt him go limp. Worried, she checked his vital signs.
Still there.
She took a blanket and draped it over his battered form, praying that tonight, no more dreams would come back to haunt him.
Veronica sat on the bed, watching Malone. He was an arm's length away from her, but it was so hard for her to reach out and offer him physical comfort.
'I should've been there to help you, instead of running off like a coward. I'm sorry Ned..'
'I'm so sorry.'
Malone lifted his head at the sound of her voice; saw through a haze of gray a blonde girl by his side. He shivered, but out of cold and not fear. He studied her familiar face, head cocked to one side.
The girl looked at him, smiled, stretched a hand towards him.
Veronica saw the flicker of recognition when their gaze met. Her heart leapt.
'Maybe he does remember, maybe he knows I won't do him harm,' she whispered to herself. She smiled, brought a hand to his shoulder.
Malone looked at her, eyes still clouded with pain, but somewhere behind all that was gratitude fighting its way past. This was the touch he felt as the whip stung his back. Her hand had somehow reached him in his darkest hours. That same touch kept his sanity.
'Angel,' he whispered hoarsely.
Veronica jumped at the sound of his voice. Angel, he called her. Too deserving a name. No angel would desert her love.
She sat back shakily as more tears traced their paths downwards. Malone placed a palm on her cheek.
'Don't cry angel,' he said, his voice taking on a child-like quality. For a moment, he was a small boy looking up at her, blue eyes soft and innocent.
Then it was gone.
Veronica shuddered as the wounds on his face and body re-emerged with ugly clarity. She knew that it wasn't only blood he lost. He had also lost his innocence and faith in the goodwill of men.
She stood up, not trusting herself to speak, but just silently helped him into a prone position. He relaxed in her arms; instinctively knowing she would not hurt him. Then a wave of blackness washed over him and he passed out.
Veronica felt him go limp. Worried, she checked his vital signs.
Still there.
She took a blanket and draped it over his battered form, praying that tonight, no more dreams would come back to haunt him.