Awake

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I stand patiently on the other side of the protective glass divider, waiting for them to tell me that it's safe to enter. I watch as a woman helps Wyler sit up in bed. His movements are slow and labored. It will take a while for him to learn how to use his arms and legs again. He's been sedentary for three months.

His eyes are open, the first time in months, and I find myself desperate, yet terrified, to make eye contact. Wyler doesn't see me though, and so I continue to wait for what feels like an eternity. I want to look into his eyes and have things feel right again, only I don't know what I'll feel or what I even want to feel. I've been so confused ever since I remembered the details of my past with Kelly, a past that shouldn't matter since he was left to die on Earth. But it does matter, despite the millions of times I've tried to convince myself otherwise.

The nurse motions for me to enter. I step into the room and Wyler's eyes finally meet mine. There is a split second where I can tell he's overjoyed to see me and to know that I'm alive, not only because of the look in his eyes, but because the monitors are going crazy with his elevated heart rate. He doesn't seem to notice, but the nurse does, judging by the smile on her face.

"I'll give you both a minute," she says politely and exits the room.

Wyler's excitement is momentary. As soon as the nurse leaves, his demeanor changes. His expression quickly fades from happiness to apprehension, as his eyebrows cave inwards in concern over his betrayal that he knows he must now face.

"You're awake," I say, stating the obvious, as I tentatively step into the room.

"Am I?" he responds quietly. "I was hoping this was all just a nightmare. Other than you, of course," he quickly adds.

He moves to run his hand through his hair like he always did during times of uncertainty, only his arm hasn't been used in months and he flinches in pain as it falls limply onto the bed. I move swiftly to his side and try to help lay it gently across his lap.

"You have to take it easy," I scold.

"Don't remind me," he rolls his eyes. "That nurse must have given me the same lecture at least ten times."

"Who? Constantine? She's pretty great actually. You should listen to her."

"You know her?"

"Um, yeah. I've gotten to know most of the nurses over the last couple months," I say as I fidget with the bed sheet, trying not to make eye contact.

"You've been visiting me for months?" he asks, and this time his eyebrows arch upwards with hopeful anticipation that my visit means something: that it means I forgive him, that I still have feelings for him.

"Yes," I say, feeling somewhat embarrassed, but too exhausted by everything to try and downplay it. It feels so good to see him and have him see me back, and to hear his voice, a voice I thought I might never hear again.

"But why?" he asks sincerely. "Why would you visit me after what I...did?" he says sheepishly.

"I don't know," I reply, and that's partly true. "Maybe because you are the only person on this whole damn ship that I actually know, and who actually knows me, the real me." Which is also true. And maybe because I still have feelings for you despite your treachery in turning me over to the enemy, I think to myself.

"Ever, I need to talk to you about what happened."

"Not now. You just woke up." I try to stop him from speaking. I'm not sure I'm ready to hear what he has to say. It's enough right now just to have him awake, but he continues anyway.

"You probably hate me."

I could never hate him.

"But I did it to protect you, Ever. I did it because I..." he trails off and I search his eyes for what he's scared to say, which of course I now want to know. He's sucked me in.

"What? What is it?"

"All right you two," Constantine interrupts, before I can get my answer. "That's enough chitchat for one day. We need to run some tests and then Wyler needs to get some rest. If all checks out well, then he'll begin physical therapy tomorrow."

"She's right. I should go," I say and turn to leave, but he grabs my hand, stopping me in my tracks. His atrophy is already dissipating. Turns out there are some benefits to being a Mod.

"You'll come back, right?" he asks gently with trepidation. "You won't stop talking to me now that I can talk back," he jokes, nervously.

I stare at him trying to decide what to do. Now that he's awake, my brain and heart are flooded with conflicting emotions. Maybe it's better to stay away, but whether it's my feelings for him, my pity for his situation, my loneliness, or the fact that he's my only connection to the old world, I decide that seeing him is not just what I want, but what I need. I'm drawn to him like a magnet. No matter how hard I try to get away, he keeps pulling me back, and I go willingly, even when he hurts me.

"Ever?" he pleads.

I nod.

"I'll come back," I assure him. I always do, I think to myself.

He smiles and releases my hand. It's nice to see him smile again, even if it is the smile of someone who has betrayed me and broken my heart.

From Darkness Comes - Book 2 in The Dissonance SeriesWhere stories live. Discover now