A/N: *sunshine emoji*
Chapter 53 - He Can't Fight It
EPOV continues...
A poke. A nudge. If this is how death feels, then it hurts, it stings.
That poke that nudge again.
"Hey," someone says. In dreams it is far. When you're empty inside, and no energy to burn in your stomach, it's but a faint call through your ears.
Edward flinches. The poke right at his rib. He cracks an eye open. A sliver of light pours in.
"You dead?" That voice again.
With a head like lead, chapped lips, Edward moves, but slightly. He closes his eye.
The old man sees. He's been watching this intruder for ten minutes now. He wondered ten minutes ago how he intruded. The barn door locked, the chain in place. It gave him a scare. He unlocked it himself to feed the goats. Early in the morning, he's doing his chores. Every day it's routine, nothing out of the ordinary. This farm has been here for generations. Lavender fields through hills and acres.
He looks down at this man. His curled body inside an oversized tweed coat. The elbows in patches. A good coat. Ragged and worn, but not warm enough for this weather. His pants and boots like those of hikers. Hair outgrown, head, and face. The old man looks closely. Under the thick beard, this man is young. Palm open by his face, fingernails black with filth.
He pokes with the handle of the rake again.
"Wake up," he orders.
The young man stirs but has no strength to move. When his eyes fully open, they are bright and blue, staring up at an old man in overalls and a wrinkled, angry face.
Edward jumps in his skin, caught. He scurries back on his heels, banging on things. The light of morning hits his squinted eyes. He lifts the palm up to shield the bright sun.
He's skin and bones.
The old man's shoulders release tension. Just the sight floods him with empathy.
"How'd you get in here?" he asks.
The young man blankly looks at the ground, no expression, no answer.
Where is here?
How did he get here? Edward asks himself, a foggy brain. He tries to look around, stiff neck. Goats cry out at seeing their master, all lining up along the fence, waiting for their breakfast. He smells farm shit and feels hay under him. Warm hay. The hay that felt like a cloud under him when he crawled in through a crack far down behind the barn last night.
The old man huffs. He walks in and begins his work, ignoring the intruder. Edward sits and watches. His eyes blink. Then slowly, with exhaustion taking over his every bone, he tries with all his might to stay upright, watching the goats thump around, munch on their food, and bleat loud for more.
"There's a hose out by the barn for drinking. Come to the house when you can manage to stand," the old man says before he walks out, leaving the barn door open. When he does go, everything for Edward seems to fade, hunched against the barn wall, his head fallen to his shoulder, nodding off.
He can't fight it. He can't fight anything these days.
….