Do You Know Indigo?

Chapter Thirty One

As my eyes opened it was not with relief that realised I was seeing through jade eyes and not indigo ones. This was reality and there was no running from it.

I blinked. The ceiling above was a pasty white and could have belonged to anybody. As for the lampshade, it too could have belonged to anyone but I recognised the tea stain. As my head looked to the side it began to register with me where I was. I would know that second hand bedside table and those newly painted walls anywhere.

I grunted, trying to find my absent voice to call someone. Nothing happened. I screwed up my face in frustration. A good lot of use I’d be to myself if I were dying. I wriggled trying to get out of bed but realised someone was gripping my hand. Twisting myself to see what had hold of me, my heart fell.

Tom had his head bent down, his eyes closed. He was so still, almost like a statue. I grunted and spluttered again, hopping to grab his attention. Tom looked up, his eyes wet from tears. He was shaking.

“Hi,” I breathed running my thumb across the back of his hand. He drew away. Tom was on his feet.

“Let me get you some water.” I cringed as Tom choked on his words. He rushed from the room, leaving me alone. What more did I deserve? Still, why did Tom reject me? I propped myself up on my pillows and rubbed my eyes. I hoped I was being paranoid, though optimism wasn't my strong suit.

Tom reappeared with a glass of water and Mum and Ross in tow. Mum checked my temperature.

“She’s back up to normal temperature, that’s a good sign at least,” Mum said. I peered from her to Ross to Tom. It was like someone had told them I was dying. “I think we’ll keep her resting for now. I’ll come back and check on her in an hour or two,” she mumbled before rising off the bed and leaving. Was I contagious? Ross followed her out of the room but gestured he was only next door should I need him. I hoped not.

Tom returned to my bedside, cradling the glass of water in his hand. I sat myself back up to take the water from him but he denied me. He placed the glass between my lips and poured. I stared at him, willing him to look at me. Tom kept his eyes down cast, watching the water trickle through my parted lips. He did this in utter silence.

Once I’d finished he took away the glass and placed it on the bedside cabinet. I prepared to come out and question him but his sudden actions silenced me. He’d sat himself on the side of the bed and cast his attentions away. His shoulders were tensed and shrugged. I was in trouble.

“Tom, are you OK?” I whispered as I reached out to touch him. He shrugged me off. My hand was left hanging and I recoiled it nervously. This was not good.

Tom stuck his hand into his pocket. His aggression caused me to withdraw. I froze when the glimmering object emerged. He twisted and turned it in the light of the sunset.

“Pretty isn’t it?" I stared down at my covers, guilt tearing at me. I didn’t know what to say. “Well?” Tom pressed. The charms chimed as Tom shook it.

“It means nothing Tom.” I said. Who had told him the greatest giver of the gift? Or was he cunning enough to have determined it for himself? The amethyst sparkled more than any other charm egging Tom’s anger on. All he must have seen in it was the eyes of the boy I had told him was no more than a friend.

“So delicate, so expensive yet so disgusting,” Tom contemplated, dangling the bracelet from his fingers. “Bought with a two faced bastard's filthy money,” he sneered clenching his hand, the bracelet between his fingers and palm. He wouldn’t. He coiled his hand tighter.

“Please Tom, put it down,” I begged, placing my hand over his. Obediently, he unfurled his fingers and dropped the bracelet. I slid my hand in his, retrieved the bracelet and shrank backwards. I held my hand to my chest and waited.