Temptation [A Young Writer's Prize Submission]

Memory

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Their feet run to evil, and they are swift to shed innocent blood; their thoughts are thoughts of iniquity; desolation and destruction are in their highways.

Isaiah 59: 7

"Mercy... Mercy," a hand touched my arm, stirring me from a fitful sleep. I opened my eyes blearily, to see Cain sitting at the side of my bed. He looked more of a wreck than I think I'd ever seen him before in my life. His hair was messy; his eyes looked haunted, and there were dark circles underneath them that I'd never seen before.

"I had to see you," he gasped out, eyes filling with tears. I couldn't believe it: Cain, Cain Esser - my Cain was crying - for me.

Any agitation I had ever felt for him suddenly evaporated and, despite my bandages and sore body, I reached out for him. He leaned over, careful not to touch me, and planted a kiss on my lips.

"Have you spoken to the police?" he asked as he pulled away, drawing his chair closer to my bedside and sitting down.

"Yeah," I murmured, instantly knowing what he was referring to. "They think you're guilty."

"They'll never make anything stick," Cain spoke confidently, but he didn't look convinced. "What did you tell them?"

"That you're not guilty," I assured him. "I told them it was Azrael and Raphael who did this to me."

"What about Will?" Cain asked, concerned. "You've heard about Will, right? What did you tell them about Will?"

"I said the same," I answered, wondering again whether Cain really could have killed someone.

He let out a sigh of relief. "We'll have to be careful now, Mercy." He kissed my one good hand. "We can't give them any reason to be suspicious."

"Why would they be suspicious?" I asked.

He shook his head. "It's the police, Mercy. Sometimes they're so determined to finish a case that they completely overlook the fact that someone is innocent."

I nodded. "I won't give them any reason to suspect," I promised.

"Good," he kissed me again. "How have you been?"

I would have shrugged, but as my shoulders gave a painful twinge, I thought better of it. Instead, I answered; "I can't complain."

"You should," Cain murmured, looking over my injuries. "Every time I see you, you seem to be getting worse."

"Maybe there's a connection," I joked.

He smiled, and his stomach jerked in acknowledgement of my humour, but his eyes remained fervent.

"I've tried coming here before," he admitted. "Before, you'd woken up - but your mum was here almost constantly. She wouldn't let me come in."

"Where is she now?" I asked, thinking it was strange that I hadn't seen her - I'd been conscious almost 24 hours now, and she hadn't visited.

He shrugged; "All I heard was that she had to talk to some insurance agency about something."

I frowned, considering. His thumb straightened out the creases on my forehead. He stared at me so adoringly that I couldn't help but feel beautiful, though I knew I must look like a wreck, what with all the bandages and cuts. Somehow, Cain's gaze took all that away. I felt prized; like a diamond he'd chosen to put on display.

"Do you remember how we met?" he asked me gently.

"Oh, all that time ago," I smiled. "It must have slipped my memory." Once again, I received no more reaction than a slim smile.