The Amazon

Chapter 5 - James

So i thought you guys might find it interesting to see things form James' point of view, let me know what you think. If you like it vote, fan, comment - the usual ;) Thanks fiona xx

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Chapter 5 – James

“Kayleigh?!”

I gaze down at her limp figure, blood pouring from a gash on her head and a rapidly swelling lump on her temple. Regret fills me; this is my fault – I should never have let her run away like that, and of course my telling her not to only made her run harder, well that’s what you get for being cold toward people I guess... It seems a fair price to pay for my heart remaining intact. I gather her in my arms careful not to jostle her too much. I press my fingers to her neck, checking for a pulse, I can’t feel anything and panic starts to surge through me, I reach for her wrist and to my relief I find a faint pulse however upon comparing it to mine it seems dangerously slow. I need to get her back, and now!

 I jog through the forest cradling her tiny form to my chest, feeling the satin of her hair against my neck and the softness of her hand in my own. I glance down at her periodically but she’s still unconscious, from what I’ve learned from my father, unconsciousness for more that 10 minutes is extremely uncommon and very dangerous, and she’s been out for at least double that. I pick up my pace until the trees pass me in a blur. I’m not just racing the sun anymore; I’m racing for Kayleigh, if she doesn’t wake up, then it’s my fault and I’ll have another death on my conscience. I shrink from this idea and try to focus on running, but images of her laying a coffin, her family’s anger and tears when they hear of what I did to their daughter. For all I know she could be their only child, or there could be a younger sibling who will gaze up at me with hate with the same clear emerald eyes as Kayleigh.

I try to banish these morbid thoughts and squeeze her tiny pale hand in my large tan one; I think I feel some response, but it’s impossible to tell if it’s real or just wishful thinking.

The sense of relief I feel upon catching sight of the complex is indescribable, I slow to a walk as I enter the main building, as the gasps of the professors and other researchers hit me, each one a slap to the face for what I’d done to the fragile figure in my arms.

“What’s going on? What are you all doing standing around like this?” her voice is firm as she commands her workforce and I hate every note of it, the way she orders these people around and the fact that they allow her to disgusts me. She catches sight of me and upon seeing whom I’m carrying, rushes over to us, screaming at someone to phone an ambulance as she does so.

“What did you do?” she glares up at me, even she who is approaching 5ft10 still has to look up at me.

“Now why would you assume I had anything to do with this? She ran off ahead and fell; what am I to do in such a situation?” I look coldly down at her, daring her to accuse me again. She frowns but doesn’t say anything more on the matter, instead gesturing for me to follow her toward the infirmary while we await the paramedics.

When they finally arrive I am ushered into the vehicle with her where I am bombarded with questions about the length of her unconsciousness, whether she had shown any signs of waking, how long it had taken for the lump to swell and how fast did her blood clot?

They run some tests and tell me that while she appears comatose at the moment; they don’t believe it will be permanent. Then they escort me into the room where she is lying on the bed.  I gaze down at her, with her wild mane of curls fanning out around her and her face peaceful in what could easily be sleep. I stroke a hand over her face, the combination of my guilt and her beauty fuelling this sentimental action. Her eyelids flutter, slowly revealing the jewels beneath,

“Mum?” she mumbles, her small pink mouth stumbling over the word. Then she blinks and tears fill her eyes. I glance down at her confused by what appears to be a knee-jerk reaction at the mention of her mother. She blinks for a second time and upon seeing me at her bed side scrambles away, glaring at me with green fire in her eyes. I smile at this, she’s been deemed comatose and has two serious head injuries, yet she can still find the energy to hate me. She moves further away from me as she remembers what took place in the forest. Now this could prove problematic, if she reveals why she was running there are going to be investigations and something tells me that poachers hunting on our land is not a coincidence. I look down at her and smirk, as if a tiny helpless creature like this could mess anything up for me, she can’t even run straight without ending up in hospital. I ignore the guilt tugging at my heart as these thoughts pass through my mind; after all I hadn’t been the one running weaponless after a group of obviously armed poachers, as if I’d have the guts, after all that’s what I do best - cover my own ass.

“Well I guess I probably ought to thank you, since I presume it was you who carried me back to the complex?” she frowns at the idea of thanking me for anything. I laugh humourlessly.

"Wow, she has manners?" she glowers up at me but I just hold onto my frozen mask; keeping my face unimpressed. Even when inside I'm anything but - you have to admire a girl with fire; it's just plain sexy, even if it is this girl. She shakes her head and winces, allowing a tiny gasp to escape her perfect pout. I can feel my expression dsrken at the sound of her pain, my discomfort must show because she quickly masks any remaining pain and raises an elegant eyebrow. I quickly wipe my face of emotion and glare scornfully at her, refusing to look away as she holds my gaze - when it comes to a battle of wils, I always come out on top. But for the first time in living memory I am the first to look away, burned by the ice and fire in her gaze.