Blueprint

Part 16 - Ruthless

Unforgettable is the ache that pulses right above my eyebrow. My weakened, heavy arm reaches up to my face, my fingertips brushing over the thick, small band aid that covers the sensitive, raw flesh. I swallow, feeling my throat dry. Squeezing my eyes shut, I regained some of my cognition, wondering where I was. The sound of nothing was deafening, a thick tension sensed surroundings the moment I remembered a few too many details at once. Grimacing with discomfort, tormented by the pain in my arm and my face, I opened my eyes and immediately winced at the piercing brightness of the light. Reluctant to keep them open, I force my pupils to adjust to the light, bearing with the stinging in my watering eyes. I stare up at the ceiling of an unfamiliar room.

Eyebrows lowering further, I extend my arms on either side of me, my palms and fingertips roaming and feeling the cushioned surface beneath me. I realize I'm on a sofa, a decorative pillow beneath my head. The curiosity and slight apprehension I feel compels me to sit up, and as I'm attempting to, a figure that I hadn't sensed before approaches me, followed by Harry's voice. "Hey," he mutters quietly, causing me to turn my head as I'm slowly sitting up. He was sitting across from the sofa, on a chair, most likely watching over me. Upon locking eyes with him, I'm immediately reminded of the events that took place right before my sight went black.

Reaching up to touch the aching area on my face, I squint over at him. He's crouched down beside me now, our faces turned to one another. I stared at him with little on my mind but one thing; what is going on? There was very little I knew about Harry, and it was becoming apparent. He gazes at me curiously, eyebrows lowering. My voice raw with sleep, I slowly murmur, "What happened?"

"Ernest," he answers honestly, his tone dry and his expression as stern as his voice. He examines my face, his eyes trailing to the injury near my eyebrow. I wondered what I looked like, and panicked at the uncertainty of severity concerning my injuries. Knowingly, he raises his chin and shakes his head, reassuring me, "It's not bad. Just a small cut above your eyebrow. The swelling has gone down considerably."

Bearing in his words, I reach to touch my fingertips against the gash above my eyebrow, brushing the thick band aid that held the linear cut together. My eyes wander upwards as I'm blindly feeling the skin, then looking at Harry once more. "He threatened to kill me," I announced to him, though he must've already known what this very bold gesture meant coming from Ernest. Big eyes analyzing him, I don't hesitate to ask, "What is really going on with this case?"

"That doesn't matter. I just know this isn't going to happen again," is all he says.

My eyes search his face for a moment. I watch the way his eyes don't waver, at all. I'm bewildered and silenced with astonishment by the very apparent smoothness of his demeanor. He was not one bit concerned, or anxious. I was curious as to the very calm, undisturbed features of his face, his movements. I'm troubled by his inability to even artificialize concern, or a normal amount of adrenal rush, anxiety. But, I think it didn't fit this image of him, or at least the one I had in my mind.

"What did you mean when you said take care of Ernest'?" I whispered cautiously, my eyes going back and forth between his somber, pale ones.

He inhales deeply and his eyes lower, tongue moving in his closed mouth, poking at the inside of his cheek. His nostrils flare lightly as he exhales past his nose, and he appears to be thinking while he looks at me, debating himself. That itself is a cause for concern, and I begin to frown as the seconds pass. "Athena..." he begins.

I part my lips to interrupt him, already convinced of the answer even though he hasn't provided one yet. I didn't need it. However, he comes closer and stops me, interjecting, "I didn't mean what you think. But...I have to show him I'm just as serious as he is. He went as far as coming after you, he shouldn't --"