A Piece of The Sun

10. Where Is My Mind?

Trigger Warning: Slight Graphic Violence and Negative Imagery

Author POV

Noah waited for what seemed to be forever in the rocking chair, eventually, he fell asleep waiting as he watched Jean. His eyes hawked her toe especially, the once cauterized flesh littered with nanites embedded and encoded with the task of tracking Jean Mercier for their recipient's greed, now a piece of it seared off and wrapped in a double-skin gauze. It was perfect enough to convince anyone there hadn't been a tiny piece of her skin missing, she wouldn't miss it, she wouldn't notice and more importantly, she wouldn't feel the pain. Or at least he hoped Noah couldn't imagine such a thing, the thought of chipping another human had gone too far, even for him. On the same token, he slept well after murdering eleven men, given he had to, but not only that; he didn't mind. He huddled the blanket closer to his body seeking warmth and comfort, the past three days hadn't been a picnic for him in the slightest but he was getting the hang of things with the bewildered woman on the bed. He waited and waited for her to come to her senses, not giving up on her. Some part of it had traumatized him though, whether he was ever going to admit it to himself or not. And Declan had done some of his best work in removing the chip from the crazed woman in her sleep. 

Still, Noah twitched with a red right hand. 

And so did the hapless redhead who'd eyes pinch shut and came away under the covers, she found herself comfortably bedded and confused as her eyes met the wooden ceilings and the dimmable lights. She groaned, pinching her nosebridge in annoyance. "Merde," She cursed. 

And for the life of her, she could not remember anything. She only knew after waking from the weighted drug-induced slumber that she felt an impending sense of doom and the words "You're not safe" reverberating in her head, akin to a sound bath gone wrong, an evil gong beckoning the end of times, hissing calamity to the weakest minds. Snakes festering and mating in the ridges and grooves of her brain, the physical manifestation of them and palpitations fluttering in the valves of her heart, caused her legs to scramble in bed and she sat upright. Seemingly possessed. Covered in her own sweat among other hefty odors. 

In her upright view of the room, her eyes came into perfect vision of a God in her midst, but not the one that could save her. Her mind told her it was a God that came to damn her, take her by the ankles, raping and dragging her to the depths of a lava pit hell. That this wooden haven she'd slept in for however long was unsafe and this was some sort of cell. Chaos loomed new imaginations in her head, telling her myths drudged up from Satan's asshole. She imagined him hammering a needle clean into her tear ducts like the God of thunder, a shiver rippled down her spine.

Each alarmed movement and rustle of the weighted blankets and supply of bedding alerted the man-God in the rocking chair, his gray eyes flew open and his hands gripped the armrests of the chair, digging his nails into the wood. He nearly lurched out of his chair if not for the memory of the monster that had taken over the woman he loved. This crazed she-beast swore she was not safe, loved, or protected. As of now, she was as quiet as any cornered and captured animal would be, she watched for his hands, eyes, and lips. Noah took note of the girl's silence and what she paid attention to most, partially gladdened she wasn't hyperventilating at the mere presence of him or seething and thrashing. He was not sure what to say. He did not know how to come in peace more than watching her watch him and staying exactly in his chair. 

The woman's mind glowered with a sickeningly sweet voice telling her to run far away from this man, but before that, to charge at him. Making sure he didn't dare chase her down. But she didn't want to hurt anyone, even if this man was surely Hades himself, with his dark hair and piercing eyes.