I own nothing!
He stopped counting the hours shortly after they set off on the second day. He just relished every moment—with her. She stared straight ahead as he drove at a steady pace. She seemed content, if not a little tired. She had woken with a small whimper, which in turn roused him from his slumber.
It was nothing. It was just a sound of surprise from waking up in a different bed, after months of sleeping on a firm, thin, plastic mattress. But she still had trouble going back to sleep, so he got them both dressed and packed, and checked out early.
He didn't feel as tired as he should have. After all, he had been searching for two months, three weeks, and six days. And now, here he was on the third month since her disappearance, driving some more. But, now he had her with him—safe, sound, and semi-healthy.
"Arkansas." He pointed at the license plate of a Volts Wagon Beetle that passed in front of them. Had it been any other situation, or three months earlier, he would have made it a "punch buggy" opportunity as well. But striking her in any way didn't seem like the best idea in her convalescence.
"You already said Arkansas." She pointed out quietly.
"Did I?"
"Yes."
"Oh, well they all look the same after a while." He knew not to argue with her. Even before the incident, her memory was impeccable.
She clutched the bottle of water he had bought her at the gas station the day before in her lap as she continued to gaze out in front of them. She had drunk from it at all. The seal wasn't even broken. She just held onto it, like a safety blanket.
"Are you hungry? I have sandwich stuff…"
"No."
"Emma, you have to eat."
"I'm not hungry."
He stared at her, before sighing and pulling off to the side of the road. He unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up to climb into the back of the van.
Emma leaned her head back and listened as he threw together his lunch. After a moment, a napkin with a sloppily made sandwich atop of it flopped into her lap.
"Eat!" He ordered gently. "You'll get sick if you don't!"
Emma glared at him before setting her sandwich on the ground beside her and crossing her arms. Her face showed a slight veneer of annoyance, but he wasn't completely positive.
"Emma! Please eat!"
No response.
"Please!"
Silence.
He watched her patiently. Then, he picked up the sandwich and placed it in her lap again. Without missing a beat, Emma picked it up, took a small bite, and threw it out the opened window.
Will's jaw dropped, before he let out a small growl and turned on the car again. "I'm sorry if it wasn't satisfactory." He muttered, pulling back onto the road.
Again, she didn't reply.
///
She watched him as he slept. He was still as handsome and endearing, as he was the day she left. He still smiled and leaned in closer every time she spoke. He still acted as though she was the only person in the world, or at least she was the center of his.
They were in another motel. This one at least had air conditioning. She had to sleep above the covers the night before.
He bought her sheets of her own. He bought her towels. He bought her anything that would make the trip more comfortable. But she still couldn't be in the same room as him without feeling fear, without feeling shame.
She made this kind, patient man angry. She made this wonderful teacher, this spectacular individual, so outraged that he threatened to leave her. Something he swore would never happen. She must have been that horrible.
She was still that horrible.
She couldn't even eat a sandwich that he had made for her that afternoon. She was so stubborn, that instead of setting it aside and telling him what plagued her, she threw it out onto the hot asphalt.
She was a monster.
She was disgraceful.
She was cruel.
Throwing the fresh linens that cocooned her to the side, Emma swung her legs over the side of the bed and watched him a bit longer. He slept peacefully, facing her. As though facing her could prevent anything from happening.
"Will." She whispered. His nose twitched. His mouth fluttered into a series of smiles, before reverting to its relaxed state. His nimble fingers wrapped around the corners of the pillow as he pushed the sides closer together.
She stood up and walked into the bathroom.
She closed and locked the door behind her and immediately looked in the mirror. She was disheartened by her appearance.
Her eyes were sunken. Her skin was even paler than usual. Her hair hung in limp curls just past her shoulders. And worst of all, she looked as though she hadn't bathed in days.
She ran the water in the shower until it was scalding hot, disrobed, and stepped under the heavy flow. It burned her. She was numb to the pain after a moment.
She took a bar of soap out of the small toile toiletry bowl on the shelf by the tub. She unwrapped it and rubbed it against every part of her until it dissolved in her shaking hand. She leaned against the wall and let the water hit her face.
///
He woke up to the sound of running water. At first he assumed it was raining, and sighed with contentment. But when he looked out the window to see the evening air was not tainted with precipitation, he jumped out of bed.
He flew into the bathroom and nearly tripped over her clothes. "Emma!" He shouted, squinting through the steam that had filled the tiny room. He ripped open the shower curtain. He reached in to grab her, and hissed with pain when he felt the water. "Emma! What's going on?" He braced himself, before quickly turning the faucet off.
She was still leaning against the wall. Her pale form was quivering, despite the fact that she was standing in scorching hot water. She stared at him with large eyes.
"Emma! What's wrong baby?" He choked grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her.
"I needed a shower." She murmured, letting him rub her dry.
"You're blistering!" He sighed touching her marred collarbone gently. "Let's get you dressed. We're going to the hospital."