The DreamWalker Series

Losing You - lost

Ellette's eyes flew open, and she stared down at Rand, unresponsive, and wracked with fever. She had to wake him up, he had to remember. There was no other choice, she couldn't imagine her life... No. She refused to finish the thought. The decision was made before she could hesitate. She slapped him hard. Tears welled in her eyes as his cheek reddened from the assault.

"You idiot!" she screamed. "Why didn't you just go back to bed?" She shook his shoulders again, the tears burning trails down her cheeks. Hands trembled as she touched his reddened cheek, guilt knotting hard in her stomach. "What do I do now?" she whispered, utterly lost.

It was then that it hit her, fully, and her knees gave way. She crumpled to the floor, her hands finding his own limp hand. She pressed her forehead against it, her fingers working over the scars, the fingers she'd worked to massage, the fingers that played the music that calmed and soothed her, the hand that had rescued her, held her, loved her. It was all she could do as the darkness, the despair washed over her, wave after wave.

At some point, though, she was able to crawl her way back to the surface. He needed help, medical or otherwise. She fumbled for her phone on the side table. As she did so, she noticed the scrap of paper lying beside it. Boris. Boris said he understood, could help. She could barely see through the tears to read the number, to dial.

"Well, that was sooner than I expected." The words barely registered, his voice cheery and unreal in her present hell. She stared at the phone. "Hello?" Came the voice from the other end.

"He won't wake up!" she choked out, the only thought that made sense, her only concern. The tears flooded from her eyes anew, as if saying it aloud made it more real, more horrifying than the nightmare she'd found herself in. The vice on her heart twisted.

There was a soft curse and then silence.

"You said you could help," she whispered, still staring down at the device, her link between the here and now and hope. It was all she could get out before her throat closed and her voice was lost in the wracking sobs she couldn't control. It hurt, to feel so raw, so vulnerable, so open. She'd closed herself off for so long so she wouldn't have to feel, so she wouldn't have to know pain like this. And then he'd come into her life, let her feel safe, loved. It was worse than the abuse, worse than the loneliness. The abyss that threatened to swallow her now was vast, deep, and endless.

"I'll be there in five minutes. Don't call anyone else yet."

The phone fell from her hand and she bowed her head. After some time she became aware of a pounding. Then her phone blared to life and she stared at it where it buzzed and danced on the floor. The pounding continued, and then a muffled, "Ellette! Open the door!"

Some part of her mind must have registered the meaning behind the words because she climbed to her feet and made her way towards the sound. The pounding grew louder, and she covered her ears.

"Come on, Ellette! It's Boris."

She nodded, feeling the command of his words, and reached for the bolt. With the click of the lock, the pounding stopped. The relief was sudden, and she closed her eyes. It was a short-lived respite. His voice came again, "Ellette, I need you to open the door."

Her hand obeyed, turning the knob. The door opened, and she stumbled back. Boris slipped in and shut the door behind him, quickly taking her in; her vacant expression, puffy reddened face. He put his hands on her shoulders lightly and she leaned into him. Boris smelled wrong, felt wrong, his shirt starched and stiff, his hands on her shoulders boney, cold. He didn't pull her to him, didn't stroke her hair, or soothe her. Nothing about his attempt to comfort her was right. She stiffened and pulled away.