CHAPTER 8

Bethany Hamilton quietly shut the door behind her as she entered his bedroom. He could see her from his hideout in the bathroom, and noticed her eyes darting around, absorbing the mess on the floors, the fallen curtain, the bed lacking sheets, instead locating them on the couch. She took it all in, until her eyes fell on him.

"Bryon!" She threw her bag to the floor and darted to his side.
"I'm fine, I'm fine!" She glared at him, not listening to a word he said as she started carefully removing his makeshift bandage. As she tugged on his shirt, she muttered something that sounded a lot like stubborn boys and shot him another serious look. If Bryon wasn't in so much pain, he would feel concerned about the seriousness of the look she was sending him. But as she peeled away the shirt from his bloody leg, the pain claimed his full attention.

Bethany instantly threw the ruined shirt onto the shower floor.
"I have to get rid of this blood to take a closer luck. Any chance you hate this shirt, and this one?"
"They aren't important."
She grabbed the first one she had pointed to, jumped up to the basin and soaked it, before returning back to him on the floor. She tried to dab lightly at his wound, each touch shooting pains up his leg. He felt like he was heating up from the inside, like the metal that had hit his leg was straight from the smith's fire and that heat was diffusing through his body. Attempting to distract himself from the pain, Bryon focused on Bethany working away, her fingers grasping the shirt tightly as she cleaned his leg. The more blood she removed from him, the more appeared on her hands, as thought staining them. She rinsed the shirt a second time, returning to him with watery blood dripping down her hands. Bryon gulped, his mind making the leap even as he begged himself not to.

Those thoughts were always so close to the forefront of his mind, and with the sight before him, bubbled right to the top, like they seemed to be doing so often recently. And just like on the beach, there was no hiding them from the girl before him: the trigger.

Bethany, who noticed his breathing rapidly shortening, assumed the panic was due to pain, and attempted to distract him.
"Noah came barging in yelling at me to help this evening. Gave me an absolute heart attack when he did. He agreed to drop me off here on the way to his night shift."
"Traitor."
"Wise." She corrected Bryon, and then thought for a moment before continuing, "which I can honestly say is the first time I have ever called him that. But it was definitely wise. I must be training my brothers well."
"Not from where I am sitting." She chuckled at him.
"Anyways, I told your folks that I had seen this disgusting horror film, and they offered for me to stay here the night so I'm not home alone. And I also brought some Disney movies along that are pretty good. I mentioned that I had promised we can watch them when I was around next. So I'll be able to make sure you are okay tonight, and hopefully we can hide this all from everyone.

And then Bethany casually, as though it was the natural progression in conversation, asked Bryon something he never wanted to hear.
"You thought we were in danger," The words fell from Bethany Hamilton's lips, and Bryon froze.
"What?" He gasped.
"On the beach. You thought we were in danger." He knew it would have consumed her mind since the moment he pulled her out of the water. Bethany always wanting to understand and deal with things - evidently the exact opposite to Bryon's own nature. Whilst he appreciated her attempt to make it not a big thing, the subtlety in conversation change definitely needed work.

For the first time that night, he suddenly had the urge to find his parents and declare to them what had happen. Even better, he'll just call the ambulance and just let everyone know when he was safely in hospital. While he was there, they could check out his heart that seemed to not be working at all.

"What?" He repeated, despite knowing exactly what she was talking about.
"You thought something was wrong, that both of us were in trouble?" She spoke slowly, testing the ideas as she spoke them out loud. She blinked at Bryon, waiting for him to contradict her words.
"You're only asking me this because I can't run away."
"Of course. And you are only pointing that out to procrastinate from answering the question."

He looked at Bethany, hovering over his injured leg, blood on her fingers, and in that moment he didn't want to lie to her. He didn't want to make excuses. His heart pounded, unable to find the words, like usual, to answer her questions. Instead, he corrected her.
"Not us." He whispers. "Just...You."
"You thought... You thought I was in danger." It might not have been phrased as a question, but he still felt the need to confirm it.
"Yes…" the response came out with a shattering breath. Bryon wanted to move, to free himself from everything: The sleepless nights, the endless running, the look in her eyes full of confusion and concern.
"But. But I wasn't hurt?"

Bryon's own head was hurting with the pain from his leg, as thought it was contagious and clouding his mind. He glanced at her shoulder, something he doesn't often do as he is more distracted by her face, her eyes, her hair, her laugh. When he realised what he was doing, he tried to pull his eyes away but she unfortunately saw him.

And the final piece of the puzzel, the explanation as to why, for so long, he had struggled to speak to her, why he left from Peter's place in such a rush, why he pulled her out of the ocean, why he looked so distressed sitting before her, all fell in to place. She could see the completed puzzle, its integrate pieces all linked together, and the final picture was her.
"It's about my attack isn't it? All of... this. It's about my -"
"It's not -"
"- Oh hush Bryon! You were right there with me that day. You saw it happen! And then... you drifted away. And I was so distracted, trying to working out how to deal with loosing my arm, how to keep surfing and be who I am. I didn't even notice." Her expression was distorted, mixed between horror and understanding, at the each connection she made.

The fact that he couldn't stand to see the blood on her hands was the final confirmation she needed. Bryon reached up and grabbed the bottom of the towel, tugging it off the robe hook it hung on. Wrapping it around her hands, he wiped the blood off her fingers as gently as he could, his hands shaking a little as he did. She let him do so with not a word of complaint. When he was done, he threw the towel behind him, away from her and from his sight. He took the shirt she had been using and applied it to his leg himself, pushing pressure and begging for it to stop bleeding.

"I'm sorry." She wasn't looking at him any more, even as the her words filled the air.
"Why are you sorry Bethany! You haven't done anything."
"I should have seen. I should have known."
"Nobody knows. And that's all on me. I couldn't... I don't understand..." His beating heart was clawing at the base of his throat, trying to fight its way up. I made him feel nauseous, and tried to stop him saying all that he needed to say.

But he gave it a go, anyways. "I don't understand why I am so... Damaged."
"You aren't damaged Bryon." He instantly shook his head in disagreement.
"Yes I am. I can't begin to even explain what goes on inside my mind to Bethany," He whispered, "I want to. But I don't know why I think like I do, why what happened has effected me so. You were the one that got hurt, not me. You had your whole life ripped apart that day, everything changed. It had nothing to do with me. And yet here we are - You are so, at peace with what happened that day. And I have never been more messed up."

She had tears in her eyes now, as she absorbed every word he whispered to her over the bathroom floor.
"And it has literally nothing to do with me." The final sentence was what hurt him the most to say. But it was the brutal truth. It was why he hid everything from those he loves, why he gets so angry and distressed at himself. Bethany was the one that was attacked by that shark, yet she remained calm and sane as she healed and moved onwards from that day. Instead of helping her in her recovery, he lost every part of himself, falling into darkness he could not escape from.

"No wonder you are hurting so much Bryon! How can you expect to deal with this yourself – that's impossible!"
Seeing the tears in her eyes brought them to his own, and he turned his head away from her, closing his eyes to block it all away.
"Hey, no Bryon. Please. Let me help you. I can save you." She murmured at him. He could feel her fingers against his cheek trying to pull his attention back to her.
"I shouldn't need you to save me Bethany."
"I want to."
"But... I couldn't save you. I don't deserve it in return."

She tugged at Bryon's chin, gently but with purpose. He reluctantly opened his eyes and saw that whilst her eyes were still watery, she was smiling again.
"But you did save me. Don't you remember? You were right by my side when I needed you most. You were there when I was attacked. I was so fortunate that day to have all of the most important people to me, right there. You helped save me Bryon. Now its my turn."

She gently touched his hand, which was still firmly holding pressure on his leg, and indicated for him to hand it over to her. He shook his head firmly. She was to go nowhere near blood any more.
"You are so silly. Let me help. I will be careful." He let take it from his grip. She took a quick look, rinsed a clean shirt and did a final clean of the wound. Satisfied with her work, she took a closer look. "It looks only small Bryon, which is a good sign. A clean puncture. Wiggle your toes for me?" Bryon, eyebrows raises, wiggled his toes. "Does that hurt? Painful to move them?"
"My toes don't hurt, but my leg surely does."
"That's a good sign. Not your leg, but that is obviously going to be hurting a bit. If wiggling your toes hurts then there could be possibly muscle damage – which we are aiming to avoid. If it doesn't clot and stop bleeding soon, you'll have to get it stitched up."

She handed the reign back to Bryon to apply pressure, and excused herself for just a moment. She left him on the bathroom floor and snuck out his bedroom door quietly. He let the coolness of the bathroom tiles he lent against, contrast the heat within his body. With his eyes closed once again, he tried not to panic over their barely finished conversation. Whilst it felt good that someone could finally see him for the pain he was in, he felt ashamed that he was so messed up and unable to help himself. So lost in his the very thoughts he was trying to block out, Bryon didn't even hear her return. It wasn't until she gently touch his hand to remove the final shirt under his tight grip did he realise she was there, and jumped a tiny bit.

She was holding a roll of bandage in her hand.
"From your sister's personal stash. It's come in useful before," She winked at him but offered no extra information. She had clearly done it before with only one hand, because she knew instantly to get Bryon to hold the beginning whilst she added some padding onto the wound to absorb the blood. Whilst he held it all still, she wrapped it around his leg tightly.

When she was done, she left her hand on his leg for a moment, resting her fingers and taking a deep breath.
"Am I going to survive?" Bryon asked her with a slight tilt in the head, mastering all the innocence he could. She laughed at him, stood up and replied,
"I've survived worst!"
She wandered into the bedroom, stretching her arms above her head as though she was breathing freely for the first time in hours. Bryon used the bathroom vanity to pull himself off the ground in what felt like forever. She had wrapped his leg tightly that he could rest it on the ground, but he didn't dare put too much pressure on it.
"You are a super human, Bethany."

She smiled brightly, and pointed for him to sit down on his own makeshift bed/couch. He wobbled as little bit as he made his way over. It was undoubtedly easier to move with all her work, but the pain was considerable with any movement. Eventually he thumped down onto the couch. She had collected her bag from when she had first entered the room, and joined him on the couch.
"Are you going to make me watch Disney?"
"Absolutely." She declared with a bright smile. He was so grateful that she was letting their conversation go, for the time being. He felt exhausted for the outburst of thoughts, kept hidden inside him for too long. And the pain was finally taking over his body. As though hearing that thought, she pulled out some tablets and handed them to him. "I also have these for you."
"Bethany Hamilton, are you giving me drugs!"
"They aren't those kind of drugs, silly. The doctor's gave them to me when I was in so much pain. They will help you feel better, they dull like you wouldn't believe. So absolutely no driving on them okay? You'll get pretty drowsy."

And she wasn't kidding. By the time he had located his laptop, which had somehow slid under his couch, set if up on a stool infront of them, agreed that Tangle was the best choice she had brought along, and had pressed play, his eyes were already hard to keep open. Despite wanting to stay awake and enjoy the company of her next to him, the combination of his exhausted body, stressed out mind and powerful painkillers were impossible to stop. He was asleep before the movie introduction had ended, head resting on her own head just slightly.

At some point, as he slept, he felt Bethany cuddle into him a little. He felt nothing after that.