Chapter 4: Resuscitation

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Ice.

I gasped awake, blinding grasping for consciousness. It took a moment before I could register what had awoken me: cold.

I glanced at the clock. 3:06 AM.

My skin felt icy to the touch as I tried to rub warmth into my arms. Teeth chattering, I clambered out of bed and reached for another blanket. I wrapped it tightly around my body and burrowed myself back under the covers, trying desperately to ward off the chill.

This was the seventh night in a row.

The weekend had passed laboriously and slowly. My mother came home sometime Saturday evening, her face pale and her eyes dead in her skull. My father never showed up.

On Sunday night, I had awoken in the middle of the night, shivering uncontrollably, ice water running through my veins and my head throbbing with a powerful headache.

And Jared had not been at school all week.

This isn't working. I was still freezing.

I threw the covers aside in frustration and pulled my oversized t-shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I needed to get warm now.

I locked myself in the bathroom and turned on the shower, setting it to the hottest temperature. I waited for it to heat, resting my forehead against the bathroom tiles, listening to the rhythmic pounding of water on the rubber shower mat. I imagined warm, strong arms slipping around me, cradling my body, sweet breath brushing against the back of my neck-

Stop it, Kim.

I shook my head, trying to ward off the images that had been assaulting my mind all weekend. My waking moments consisted only of him. His face, his voice, his embrace, his kiss...JaredJaredJaredJaredJared-

I growled in frustration and thrust the un-casted side of my body into the scalding hot stream. It was almost painful in its intensity, but it was effective in silencing off the lunatic in my head that could not forget the feel of his lips against my forehead or his calloused fingers intertwined with mine.

I dipped my face into the stream, concentrating on the droplets of water that trailed from my eyelashes down to my chin. "Leave me alone," I bit out under my breath, willing him to hear me, wherever he was. "Get out of my head."

I slid down the shower wall until I was sitting on the mat, my broken leg jutting out of the partially open shower door. How was it possible I was still cold? A quick glance at my skin revealed that it was raw and red; my stomach churned as I pictured raw, undercooked meat. Damn it, why couldn't I feel any warmth?

I shut off the shower and stepped out, not bothering to dry myself. Dripping wet, I paused in front of the mirror, evaluating the naked reflection before me.

There were deep circles under my eyes,- restless dreams, his voice, waking up gasping his name - my skin had adopted a sickly pallor- I'm not hungry, Melissa, leave me alone- and I nearly felt like gasping at the sight of my hipbones jutting out from my papery-thin skin. I had always been thin, but certainly this was not possible.

I lifted shaking hands to my face, catching the tears that had begun leaking from my tired eyes. What the fuck is happening to me?

JaredJaredJaredJared-

"Ugh," I growled, and in an instant I was smashing my fist against the mirror, watching in morbid fascination as it cracked beneath my hand like an eggshell and shattered to pieces.

I gasped.

I drew my hand back in slow motion, inspecting with wide eyes the bloody mess of my fist. Crimson, thick droplets landed against the perfectly white bathroom tile. Drip. Drip. Drip. Jared. Jared. Jared.

"What the fuck," I gasped out, and backed against the wall, trembling. Had I really just done that?

"Kim? Kim, what's going on?"

My sister's frantic voice outside the bathroom door snapped me back into reality. "Nothing, Amy, it's fine," I reassured her quickly, wrapping my hand quickly in a towel to stop the bleeding. "I dropped something. Go back to sleep."

There was a moment of silence before I heard her shuffling back down the hallway to her bedroom, leaving me in the deafening silence of the tiny bathroom, the only sound being my labored breathing and the pulsing of my blood in my ears.

The first hints of pain spreading up to my fingertips shook me from my frozen inaction. I wrapped a towel around my body and bent over, scooping mirror fragments into my injured hand. This isn't going to be fun to explain tomorrow morning...

Cradling my bloody hand against my chest, I peeked out of the bathroom before darting back into my bedroom and shutting the door behind me. My hand was throbbing quite painfully now. Turning on my bedside lamp, I unwrapped the towel from my hand and wanted to vomit at the sight that greeted me; my palm and fingers were cut and bloodied, peppered with fragments of glass jutting from my skin in ways that made my stomach turn. I couldn't help the panicked gasp that flew from my throat.

"Goddamnit, Kim!"

I jerked backwards violently at the voice coming from the window, catching myself on my hands instinctively against the mattress, gasping as the glass dug into my skin-

Jared's hands were on me immediately, cradling my bloodied fist and holding my shoulder steady. "What the fuck happened, Kim?" he barked out, inspecting my injury with frenzied movements.

"What-what are you doing here?" I mumbled stupidly, my breath hitching inside my throat.

He didn't answer me. "Wait here," he commanded, forcing me into a sitting position, and was out of my sight in one dizzying movement. My head swam with questions and pain...why is he here, why is he shirtless in my house again, shitshitshit my hand-

Almost as fast as I could blink, he was kneeling before me in front of the bed, once again grasping my hand in his own. "I have to get the glass out, ok?" he told me in a tone fit for addressing a child. His brown eyes met mine in the semi-dark, pleading. "It's gonna hurt. Try to keep your hand still."

He began working on my hand with a pair of tweezers he must have gotten from the bathroom, biting his lip in concentration. It stung, but it was more than just pain that was making my head feel clouded and woozy; I felt unbelievable heat pulsing from his body, curling into my stomach and around my body, infusing my blood with warmth. My lungs contracted easily for the first time in what felt like years.

"What are you doing here?" I asked again, but my tone was anything but accusatory (as any normal person's would have, Kim, you dumbass); it sounded pitiful and desperate even to my own ears.

"I was just checking on you," he grumbled distractedly, and it almost sounded like it wasn't even meant for me. "Then I heard you gasp and I could smell your blood..."

"You could smell my blood?" I felt lightheaded, drunk. "What are you talking about?"

Jared ignored me, working steadily on my hand until all the glass fragments were out of my skin. He pulled me from my sitting position and to my bedroom door, dragging me out into the hallway and into the bathroom, where he turned on the sink faucet and thrust my hand under the flow of lukewarm water. I hissed.

"Shit. Sorry," he mumbled, and scrubbed my hand with stinging soap. After a long minute of washing, he pulled my hand out from under the stream and began wrapping my hand in a thick bandage that he must have found somewhere underneath the sink. When he seemed satisfied with his work, he led me back towards my room. He stopped when he saw me tripping over my cumbersome cast and swept me up in his arms, carrying me the rest of the way.

Jared deposited me gently against the bed, and his hot palm rested for a moment against the cold skin of my face. I felt like I had been resurrected from the dead.

"You ok?" he asked, and his voice was gruff with an unidentifiable emotion.

I nodded once, sharply. Jared withdrew his palm (the sun was going out, so dark and cold) and crossed to my closet. He started pulling out various items of clothing, and I found myself wondering if he really had lost it after all.

"Here," he said, handing me a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. "Put something on. You're shivering."

I glanced down at my body in confusion, only to be utterly mortified when I realized I'd been in my towel the entire time. Oh, holy fuck.

Jared started towards the window, which I realized he must have come through (which made little to no sense in and of itself). He began climbing out of it, like he was leaving, and it was like the air was being sucked right out of my lungs and I gasped out, "Wait, wait, don't leave," before I could register what a complete and utter mental case I was.

He stopped immediately and slowly pivoted his body to face me. "Are you sure?" His expression looked more forlorn and vulnerable than I had ever seen it.

"Yes," I breathed out, ignoring the voice in my head that was screaming, what the fuck is wrong with you, Kim?

A look of relief crossed his face and he appeared back at my side, sitting himself carefully on the bedside. His enormous, muscled frame looked absolutely absurd perched upon my tiny, pink bed. "Ok," he said, and smiled gently at me. "But you should probably put on those clothes now."

My face flushed as I remembered the items in my hands. "Right. Um." Putting on my clothes with a muscled, Quileute teenage boy in the room was not a situation I was accustomed to.

Sensing my discomfort, he grinned and turned his body to face the opposite wall. "I promise not to peek."

I wasn't sure why I trusted him not to, but his display a few minutes earlier over the state of my well-being made it a bit easier. I struggled to get my pants over my bulky leg; my fingers trembled and fumbled with the drawstrings. I shoved my arms through the giant t-shirt and crossed my arms over my chest, holding my pounding heart inside my body. "You can look now." My voice came out a throaty whisper.

He turned around to face me, his heart in his eyes. "Are you sure you're okay, Kim?" he asked, and his voice sent tremors down my spine.

"I'm ok," I reassured him. I'm only warm when you're here. And it doesn't make any sense.

Jared rose from the bed and came to stand in front of me, impossibly tall and smelling of something woodsy and calming. "Are you sure you want me to stay?" he asked, voice so small I could barely hear it. "I- I thought you wanted me to stop...talking to you."

My eyes closed at the strain in his voice. "I...I did," I confirmed. "I was so confused...I am so confused. I don't know why you keep showing up at my house or how you got in through the window or why you even care, but you're here and I can breathe again." Toomuchtoomuch. Where were these words coming from? Who was this stranger forcing my heart out into my words and laying them bare before this boy I hardly knew?

Jared swallowed visibly, his hand coming to rest against my cheek again. "I tried to stay away, Kim," he confessed, saying my name like a prayer. "I promise I did. But all I could think about was you. If you were safe. If you needed me..." His eyelids fluttered shut.

"This makes no sense," I breathed, and my eyes were suddenly wet. "Jared, please...what's going on between us? Why are you here?"

He took my face between his hands, cradling me with a softness I'd never known. "Kim," he whispered. "There's so many things I need to explain to you. And I promise you that I will. But you have to trust me first, Kim." His hands stroked my skin, tracing invisible patterns that only he could see. "Please."

My heart constricted painfully in my chest. "I-I don't...I don't know you." But I can't stop thinking about you. And it scares me to death.

"Spend time with me, then," he implored breathlessly, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Let me spend time with you."

I shuddered at his soft touch. "I don't know why you'd bother," I admitted.

Jared frowned and pushed damp hair away from my face. "I don't know why you think I shouldn't," he countered gently.

Because I have nothing. I'm nothing. "I don't want to get hurt."

"You won't," he was quick to assure me. "If you tell me to stay, I'll stay. If you ask me to go, I'll go. That's all there is to it." He continued brushing hair from my face.

Everywhere his hands touched me, my skin felt as though it had been shocked back to life. Awoken. Renewed. And it was utterly intoxicating.

"I can't stop thinking about you," I blurted out, like if I didn't say the words it was the end of the world. I can't stop dreaming about you. I don't want you to ever go.

I expected shock or distaste, but instead Jared's hands shook almost imperceptibly against my face. "Kim..." he breathed and his lips connected with the skin of my temple, a lifeline in the storm. He kissed the spot over and over again, hot, open-mouthed kisses that felt like the death of me and coming alive all at once. "You have no idea..."

But he never finished the words.

Jared's lips connected with mine, hot, soft, achingly sweet.

His kiss felt like resuscitation.

I moaned helplessly and my legs stopped working instantly. His arms came around my waist, hands clutching at my hips, desperate and pleading. I hadn't realized this kind of life was possible.

My lips moved against his, like they were made for this (like they were made for him). My kiss asked a thousand questions; each caress of his lips against mine was an answer, a reassurance.

Jared pulled away, pressing butterfly kisses against my cheekbones, my eyelids, my ears, the underside of my jaw. "I would die before hurting you."

I realized there were hot tears streaming down my face as he began wiping them away with the pads of his calloused fingers. "I don't understand," I whispered, my chest aching. Surely my chest was smeared with my own blood; surely my heart was an open wound.

"Then I'll make you," he vowed, kissing a trail from my jawline to my earlobe. "Whatever it takes."

I sobbed openly now, overwhelmed and disgusted with my pathetic reaction. But Jared wrapped me up wordlessly in his arms and carried me to my bed. He laid me down gently, kissing my lips with such tenderness.

"Calm down, honey," he whispered, and the endearment did nothing to stop the flow of my tears. "Shh, Kim, it's ok. Tell me what you need."

"S-stay," I blubbered childishly, grasping at his hand.

"I'm here," he reassured me, cradling my head in his hand. "I'm not leaving you. Just relax."

It took several minutes for my breaths to slow and my tears to stop flowing. My body felt heavy; drained. I felt the pull of sleep around the edges of my brain.

"You need to sleep, Kim," Jared whispered, kissing my cheek. "You're exhausted."

"We have to talk," I murmured drowsily.

He smiled. "We can talk tomorrow. I'll be back in the morning, okay?"

I nodded sleepily. "Okay. 'Night, Jared."

Another soft kiss to my lips. "Goodnight, Kim."

And for once, I slept peacefully.

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To be continued...

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Author's note: I apologize for the delay in updating. I have so many tests right now, it's ridiculous. But I love you all! Seriously! Let's get BFF tattoos.

Love,

Madame Naberrie