Dare Trilogy | Book 3 Editing | ✓

2.6 | Teach Me How To Live

His mixed actions were messing with me. Earlier in the day, he lost his temper and now he's showing concern. "How would I know? I've barely been here two days."

He scolded as if I were a child, "Can't you give a straight answer even now?"

I looked away from him trying not to cry at the sharp stinging this burn was leaving behind. He walked away to the washroom and came back seconds later with toothpaste - an old but effective remedy. He sat back down and I mumbled, taking it from him when he was about to squeeze out a portion from the tube on his finger. "I can do it."

Instead, he took the tube back from me. I opened my mouth to object when he warned. "Quiet."

Pulling my feet back, I got up. "I'm fine." It was a lie, but I wasn't going to let him touch me, even if it was only to apply a soothing cream over the burn.

I only managed a couple steps before the pain got unbearable. I held on to the counter for support. He gave in, "Alright, apply it yourself. But for crying out loud, sit down. You are not capable of walking right now."

Relieved, I accepted the paste and sat down again, applying it myself but a bit hesitantly afraid of touching it myself for when touched, it only burned further.

He asked minutes after I had finished applying it, "Better?"

I nodded. "Thank you." For the first time in a very long time, I really meant it.

He exhaled, standing up. "Can you walk?"

I struggled to pull up on my feet. He forwarded his hand and I eyed it as if it were an alien object. I shook my head and reaching for the edge of the counter, I gathered up enough energy to stand up. When I would almost slip, he flinched forward to grab me, but I maintained my balance and he stopped midway.

I took a step forward to walk out of the kitchen but putting pressure on it had me stumble. It hurt too much. My hand reached for the first thing it could out of instinct and found itself in his hand as he held my weight.

It did tremble for a second when it touched his. He had to have felt it and even when I made a move to pull back, he squeezed back holding my hand firmly. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes. "Try." He asked and somehow, it was meant to send off a motivating vibe.

Continuing to hold my weight, he nudged me to walk with a limp. They were tiny steps and I struggled to open my eyes, pushing the memories as far to the back of my head as possible. When it started to get too much, I tried to tug my hand out. His hold was stronger as he didn't let me.

He quietly said, "Almost there," and continued to make me walk.

The second we reached the couch, he let go. I focused on the burning sensation on my foot rather than my hand. He put a cushion on the other end and I turned to pull my feet up on the couch and resting it atop the cushion.

"Where are you going?" I asked when he started to leave for the kitchen.

"Someone has to finish cooking dinner." He answered without stopping and I heard the rattling about as he pulled out another packet of pasta and put them to boil.

The whole time he remained in the kitchen, there was only one thought in my head. The way he helped me till this couch, holding my hand even when I had tried to pull back. He was one who didn't let my fears get in the way. He wanted to get me to the couch and he made it happen even when I tried to resist. It's as if he knew my limits better than I knew them myself.

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| . . . C H A P T E R - 6.2 : ... T O - L I V E . . . |