The Night Vigilante

VII. Grace

VII.

There is something oddly personal and intimate about watching a person sleep.

            I watch the sleeping boy, sedated with a calm façade on his face. His eyelashes barely brush his cheekbones, his hair messy and swept to the side.

            His lips were slightly parted and aside from the fact that he had a large patch of gauze sealing up his bullet wound, it was like he was never hurt.

            Sitting back, I rest my hands on my lap and wait-like I have been for the past day.

            Out of everything in this entire situation, I found myself wanting to see his eyes again.

             I wanted to make sure that they were the same eyes- I kept telling myself that after all these years, I was probably just jumping the gun and thinking that this boy had the same eyes as my savior, but deep down,  I knew that he was the one.

            Sighing, I close my eyes and lean my head back, weary and exhausted.

            I had washed his blood off of my arms and hands a while ago, but it the image of my shaking body covered in body that had me wracking with horrific flashbacks.

            Flashbacks to a starry night spent with shuddering gasps and coldness.

            Flashbacks to my broken body bleeding on to the ground, wishing for it to swallow me up.

            And then, flashbacks to warmth- flashbacks to his warm arms and piercing eyes.

            I don’t even think I realized that I fell asleep until I feel someone shake my arm, making me jolt awake.

            My eyes snap open and I see wide, azure blue eyes staring back at me.

            Rest back against his arms, he stares at me in confusion.

            “Are you the girl that saved me?” he asks, his voice raspy from the lack of use.

            As I stare at him, his beautiful eyes throwing me into a whirl of the past and present meshed into one, I can’t find the words to speak.

            So I just nod.

            He retracts his hand on my arm and just settles back, watching me carefully.

            “So…” he begins awkwardly.

            Did he not remember? Did he not recognize me?

            “Did you want some water?” I ask, quickly jumping to my feet.

            “Wait,” he says, his hand shooting out ot grab my wrist. “When do the doctors normally come in to check up on me?”

            my eyebrows furrow together. “I don’t remember…. The last time they checked on you was three hours ago so I’m assuming they’ll come back soon.”

            He looks around, taking in the small hospital room before glancing down at his abdomen.

            Releasing my wrist, he begins to pry away the gauze.

            “What are you doing?” I hiss, grabbing his arm.

            He gives me a weary look. “You wouldn’t understand. Just trust me when I say that we have to go.”