A Proscriptive Relationship

:A Proscriptive Relationship: 58

Noises and light. A bright, constant, blinding light. The noises were far off and sluggish. I attempted to focus on them, but no matter how hard I tried, they were still incoherent and garbled. An odd, unfamiliar scent was filling my nose. I struggled to move, but my body felt liked it weighed a thousand pounds. The more I strived to at least lift my hand, the heavier I felt.

There was more pressure on my right arm then my left- at least I thought it was my arm. In my state, I couldn't be sure. I didn't even know where I was. Or why I couldn't make out the noises I could hear. Or where the blinding light that was starting to get on my nerves was coming from.

I struggled to force my eyes open. For all I knew, I could have been kidnapped again. Maybe something had gone wrong and Shawn somehow got away again. The thought sent alarm through me. With new resolve, I finally managed to force my eyes open- only to close them again when an even more glaring light than the first blinded me.

After blinking a few times to get my eyes adjusted to the light, I began to take in my surroundings. White walls, white curtains, white ceiling... I turned my head to the side and my gaze landed on a large machine producing a beeping noise. A startled gasp escaped my lips when I realized I was in a hospital. Relief then washed over me- that meant I was safe.

My gaze dropped down my arm, where an I.V was attached to my wrist. Making a face, I quickly turned away from it. Needles weren't my thing. My eyes widened when I took in my other arm. There were no needles, but something else instead- or should I say someone else. Mr. Heywood was dead asleep on my arm, his head resting against my hip.

I tried to sit up, but found it took way too much strength. Giving up, I fell back down the inch I had managed to rise. A scratchy groan escaped my lips as my landing sent my head pounding. Why was I so tired? I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, trying to remember what happened. Mikey had stabbed me, and then I shot Shawn, and then what...? Did I pass out?

The arm Mr. Heywood was sleeping on started to tingle uncomfortably. After a moment it turned into a painful prickle, like needles being poked into my skin. I slowly clenched and unclenched my fists, trying to wake my arm back up. It wasn't working. Mr. Heywood needed to move.

"Mr. Heywood?" I blinked in surprise as my voice came out in a scratchy whisper. I cleared my throat, trying again. "Mr. Heywood?"

He stirred slightly, turning his head to the side. "Mm," he mumbled, keeping his eyes shut.

"My arm's asleep... Could you move?"

"In a minute, Holly," he responded, nestling his head more comfortably into my arm. After another moment his eyes shot open, gazing straight into mine. He sat up quickly, part of his hair matted to his face. "Holly?"

I chuckled at his expression and the hair pressed against his face. "Morning, sleeping beauty."

"Holly," he repeated in a breathy voice, his expression turning to relief. He turned to the side, hitting something on the machine next to me before quickly moving forwards in his seat, throwing his arms around me, and bringing his body closer to mine. He rested his head against my shoulder, rubbing it against it slowly. "Thank god... Thank god."

Confused, I stared down at him. "What?"

He suddenly pulled back away from me, bringing his face in front of mine. "Holly," he breathed again, resting his forehead against mine.

"Mr. Heywood?"

Without warning he pressed his lips against mine very gently, as if they were made of fragile glass. He his head, placing kisses across my jaw line, all the way up to my ear. I let out a shaky breath, my body tingling at the sensations. He kissed back down my jaw again, landing at my lips, this time a little more roughly. After a moment he pulled away, planting one last kiss on my forehead before dropping his head back on my shoulder.