An Accidental Embrace

2 | Stay Alive

Previously

Neco walked towards her bed and sighed in relief. The gradual rise and fall of her chest was enough to comfort him, despite the mental agony he was experiencing from observing the wounds--a lesion above her brow and a dressing on the right hand. There must be others he couldn't see, her hospital gown and blanket covered the rest. With one hand resting against the headboard, Neco bent down to graze his finger across her brows ever so slightly. She was frowning. Either in pain, or she was fighting, even in her sleep.

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His fingers gingerly traveled down her brow to caress her face. He wondered if she would fidget, wake up to his touch. Had she been awake, she'd break his hand for sure.

In the beginning, the desire to seduce her was fueled by an endless pursuit to attain her against her wishes. It would be a triumph to sleep with Boz's lover and the enemy's sister. Neco was an ass, and he knew it. But this girl, Fatoş, would present challenges that Neco with all his manipulative talents couldn't foresee.

Even if he tried, he could barely recall a woman who had rejected his advances like Fatoş did. It would be a good chase, he had imagined at first, being the cocky bastard he was. If she played hard to get, he'd work harder to win. Her looks and behavior provoked him in perplexing ways, coaxing him to woo her in typical Neco fashion--unabashed physical advances and so forth. Except he restrained himself. It didn't dawn on him until later that his inaction was in fact stemming from a beautiful storm that was brewing rapidly inside of him.

Sure, she was beautiful beyond what words could describe. Stunning, to be precise, whose looks demanded a second, even third glance. But it was the juxtaposition of a face like that next to her unrelenting sass that made for a lethal combination.

She reminded him of a child at times, kicking and screaming in the face of adversity, but one who was just as innocent on the inside.

Crystal clear like water, one could see through the soul.

The fear of hurting her had a power over him he didn't know existed.

And here they were. His expression pained as his eyes traveled to her hand with the catheter attached to it. He touched it slightly, pondering whether to hold it or not. He remembered how his hand had brushed against hers every so slightly in the basement that day, when he unlocked the handcuff.

Things didn't have to be this way. He shook his head in disbelief and let the back of his hand graze her cheek one last time before he gathered himself to leave.

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5 days later.

8 a.m.

A warm pair of sweatpants and a soft t-shirt. Shower. Smell of pungent citrus shampoo. Clean hair. She breathed in the fresh smell around her and proceeded to change her clothes. Why did it take catastrophes to make people realize the simple pleasures in life?

She rolled up the hospital gown on her fist and tossed it in the hamper. It felt nice, being able to stand on her own, walk around the room, shower without assistance after what felt like ages in the hospital bed. Drawing in closer to the fogged up mirror, she observed the cut above her brow. It was healing, just needed more time.

"Do you need assistance in there Ms. Fatoş?"

"I'm good. Coming out." She's still here? Fatoş had been giving her a hard time, the night shift nurse, Sarah. Truth be told, everyone on the floor that tended to Fatoş had gotten a taste of hell. But Sarah wasn't intimated.

Fatoş gave herself one close look in the mirror before she abruptly opened the bathroom door. She winced in pain and compressed the area underneath her chest with her palm to ease the soreness.