In Reach?

Mira’s POV

I feel something warm on my forehead. I open my eyes and feel my body heavy, but warm. Blinking around I know I’m in a bed and in somebody’ room. There is a needle stuck in my arm. I feel my head and find a warm cloth on it. I must have gotten sick or something. I release an annoyed moan of my body. I’ve always had a weak body, and I always hated it. It made all the men in my life think that they could play the ‘hero’ in my life. This annoyance just grows in me as I realize an obvious side effect of this accumulated weakness in me, - I have yet again woken up in another strange place.

Seriously?! First the woods, then some guy’s room, then in a dungeon no less, and now I’m in a small room which may just be an at-home hospital room. I sit up and feel the dizziness hit me. I give my body a look over, and I must say, I almost look as bad as I feel. My body feels like it has been hit by a bus, but I don’t want to go back to sleep with my body desperately craving food. My stomach is clenched from the lack of food it had in, I don’t know how long, but I know it’s probably going to take a while before I can take a full plate of food again. Crap, I miss food. I want to pee, but I’m worried I might just pass out if I make my body feel any more empty. Weird thought, I know. I smell like damp sweat and I just want to lay in a warm bath, but I might just drown from this exhausted body not being able to do anything but sink. Dammit, where do I start with myself?

I try to get out of bed, but my right foot gives in the moment I try to stand on it. I feel the pain, but my body is too exhausted to acknowledge it. Not to mention, the dizziness made the floor look way closer to me than it was, so the trip down didn’t phase me as much as it probably should have. I then notice a sudden movement in the corner of my eye. It’s Dimples. Was he here the whole time?

He comes rushing my way and I get a feeling he’s mad at me. I really don’t think my body can take any more damage he may want to put me through. So, I just cringe back from him, crawling with my back into the corner of the room. This seems to make him stop in his tracks. A few steps away from me he squats down and looks at me with………anger and concern?

He’s probably pissed that I have such a weak body that’s already in a hospital bed, when he barely even started with his torture attempts.

“You shouldn’t be walking around on that foot.” He says. But his tone sounds harsh.

He moves closer as if trying to help me up, but I don’t’ want him to. I smell, and that is bothering me more right now than being scared of him. I am still a lady. So I put my hands in front of me.

He picks me up anyways and despite my lame attempt of struggling against him, he just releases an annoyed huff. “Can you just try to not be so stubborn for a few seconds”.

I become still in his arms, embracing the heat coming from his body. But his grip on me still tightens. I look up at him, but he’s focused on getting me back to bed. I tightly grip his shirt, not wanting to go back.

He looks down at me with raised brow.

How do I do this? I want to say that I want to eat, and wash myself, and pee, and that I probably can’t do any of it by myself. I mean, I would appreciate the help, but is he really my only option? Do I even have an option? Can I even ask for anything right now?

So, I choose the one option that doesn’t seem like too much. “I have to pee”, I say softly.

He just stares at me, and I’m wondering if even heard me.

But then he starts walking in another direction. I’m not too bothered by my surroundings as I can’t take my eyes off of his face. I’m shooting daggers at his cheek, the one currently facing me, hoping it will poke and bring that dimple to light. I just saw it once, and with everything else that has happened between me and him, I’m starting to worry that it may just have been my imagination. I hope not.

I don’t care if he is a sadistic ass, I just want the dimples to be real. And something in the back of my mind tells me it may have something to do with him smiling, that it means he’s happy. Do I care whether he’s happy? I don’t know. But I know that I want to see those dimples.

He probably feels my intense stare at him, because he starts clenching his jaw like something’s bothering him. I look away, too scared that he’ll turn his attention to me. I do not like attention.

I wasn’t even looking where he was going, but soon after he’s lowering me to the floor of a bathroom.

I barely stand when my foot gives in, but he instantly grabs a hold of my waist, pulling me close to him. But the lady in me doesn’t want him to smell me, so I just try and push him away, but he just looks angry. So I just lean back trying to get my upper body as far away from his nose as possible.

I can feel his arms practically vibrating around me, I worry he may actually crush me any second, but instead he loosens his grip. I’m basically standing on my own now, mostly on one foot. His arms hover around my waist as he lets go, as if checking if I’m going to fall.

Then he just walks out and closes the door. I then release a huge exhale as if I was holding my breath the whole time. I lean towards the toilet and make my way over.

After flushing, I take two hops to get to the wash basin. I look up and see a box mirror above the basin. I really look like crap. I have a cut on my left temple, a bandaged hand, a sprained ankle, and if I look closely I can still see the hand marks around my neck that I got from Dimples. These hand-prints are literally the faintest marks on my body, yet these feel like they hurt the most. My eyes are even tearing up. Shit! What is wrong with me?

I try to distract myself by being nosy and looking around. I reach for the mirror and realize they are one of those cupboard types that swing open. To my relief I see toothpaste. I grab it and try to make use of my index finger to clean my teeth. Progress is slow, but now I don’t need to feel the need to hold my breath every time someone is near me.

I peek out the door and see into the room I was lying in. There in the far corner Dimples is sitting, drinking coffee and going through folders with a very tired and serious expression. Did he work throughout the night? Did he bring his work here with him?

As if feeling my gaze on him, he looks directly at me. He gets up and makes his way to me. Seeing this I immediately lift up my hand as a sign to stop him. “ It’s okay. I got it.” I say all too quickly. I’ll rather limp than have him stalk towards me like that. I don’t like the feeling of seeing him stand all tall and firm, and coming my way, as if I’m his prey. From personal experience, when he does that, he attacks.

Once I reach the bed, he brings the table on the other side of the bed closer and says, “eat up, you should be hungry.”

It’s a bowl of fruit, toast and some orange juice. It looks good, too good, and I know my shrunken stomach won’t be able to take it all. I still don’t get why he is being so different with me now, but I’m not going to question food. “Thank you.”

He looks up at me with an almost-smirk on his face. That’s when I realize, this is probably the first time there isn’t hostility in the air between us. The first time I said something nice, like ‘thank you’.

I stare at the bowl of fruit and can’t decide what to start with. It looks like a tropical rainbow in a bowl. There are even raspberries! I love raspberries!. People almost never put raspberries in their fruit salads. I guess someone has taste.

I pick up a raspberry and pop it in my mouth. I can’t help but smile. I’m so lost in this bowl of mine, for a second I forgot Dimples is still here. I look up at him, still chewing. He’s looking at me, and I swear he’s trying to stop a smile with his hand on his lips. I know, because for a split second I saw a dimple forming on his cheek.

He looks back into his folders and I look back at the bowl in front of me. I know I won’t be able to finish it all, and by the looks of him, I’m sure he had a late night too. This is probably going to bite me in the ass, but here goes nothing. “You hungry?” and I bite my lower lip to stop it from trembling with nerves. Why is this guy making me so nervous?

He looks up at me, but his gaze falls to my lips. But he’s quiet, like he’s thinking about the answer. So, I go ahead and say, “I won’t be able to finish all of this, and I don’t want it to go to waste.”

There is more silence and I look down at the bowl again. Why do I feel like a nervous child? I pop a grape into my mouth to distract myself from waiting for him.

But he gets up and says, “If you don’t mind”.

I look up at him and just shake my head as I’m still chewing the grape.

He comes and sits at the bottom edge of the bed, that the bowl is between the two of us.

But the second he reaches for the bowl, I realize I’m getting frustrated. How can I forget,…….that as a foody, I don’t like sharing food? Shit! I look at the bowl and I’m starting to pray in my mind which pieces he shouldn’t take. But I love them all. I love pineapples, it goes with everything, even pizza. Strawberries aren’t just tasty, they’re cute too. Raspberries are a rare commodity of their own. And grapes are the mother of all things festive, wine is proof of that. This is a losing battle and I started it. I better get a dimple from this.

He takes a strawberry and I instantly wonder if that’s a preference or a random choice. He just pops it in his mouth, barely chews, and swallows.

I sit there, staring at this man, realizing he probably doesn’t appreciate food the way he’s supposed to. He must have grown up privileged or something.

I put my attention on to the bowl and decide to put my focus there. The two of us are basically sitting in silence, sharing a bowl of fruit and………I don’t know,……just enjoying each other’s company. Well I’m enjoying his. For this moment it is like all other problems just faded away and it is just the two of us.

With the bowl empty I look up and notice he’s already looking at me. How long was he looking at me?

“There are a few things that we still need to discuss. But I think I should at least give you a chance to make yourself comfortable. So that we can have a proper conversation with each other.”

He’s staring at me like he’s waiting for a response, but everything he just said don’t require one. So I just nod my head gently.

“We have a room set up for you. Let me take you there”. He stands up and tries to pick me up. I’m annoyed how he doesn’t even ask. This man is too used to giving orders. But there is no use in me trying to protest, because I’m too exhausted to even think about hopping my way there.

When we reach stairs, he tightens his hold on me as we ascend. I can’t help but lean into his chest. His scent is sending tingly waves through my body, that my wounds are feeling somewhat numb, like they don’t hurt as much. When we’re in the hallway, I realize we just came from the door under the stairs. So their basement is an infirmary? That’s a weird thing to have. Are they like mafia?

He doesn’t walk far when he stops in front of a door. He opens it with me still in his arms and puts me down on the bed.

“There’s a bathroom through that door”, he points to the door on my left. “You can get freshened up in there. We put some clothes for you over here”, I see folded clothes on the bed next to me. “I’ll be waiting for you in the room.” He says with finality.

I give a slight nod, get up, take the clothes in my hands and limp to the bathroom. He tried to help, but I just raised a hand, like I did downstairs, and he stopped. I can’t help but smile, knowing that an injured woman like me can still stop a man like him in his tracks by just raising a hand. I’m just relieved that the bathroom door locks.