"Brinley, wake up," someone shakes my shoulders.
My eyes open slowly, but no images show up in my vision. "I can't see-"
"Shh," Clarin's calming voice comes to me. "You're okay. Remember? It's temporary."
I control my breathing again and nod. I'm temporarily blind. Right.
"I'm going to help you get dressed now, okay?" Clarin asks, assisting me in standing up.
"Yeah," I nod again. "Thanks."
"I'm going to hand you a shirt, can you take yours off by yourself?"
"Yes." I take the shirt she hands me and switch them out. Once that's on, she hands me a new pair of shorts. I throw them on, but lose my balance. I don't know where to land, what to grab. I'm just going down. Lucky for me, Clarin catches my arm and steadies me before I hit my head or do any serious damage.
"Here, do you want to walk down to the kitchen or should I bring the food up here?" Clarin asks me.
"I can come downstairs," I say. I don't want to be treated like an ill person 24/7. I can do some things, and I need to prove that. I drag my hand along the wall to find my way to the stairs. I take one step at a time, slowly and cautiously. I'm almost halfway down when I hear a voice.
"Need some help?" Joey asks.
I shake my head. "I'm perfectly fine."
"Okay," he says. But I know he hasn't left my side. He's going to follow me all the way down.
"What time is it?" I ask him, mostly so it isn't so silent.
"Almost nine," is his reply.
When I finally make it down the stairs, I try to think back to which direction the kitchen is. I search to the back of my mind what way I turn in this confusingly large home. I wouldn't ever admit it, but I'm thankful when Joey grabs my hand and starts to lead me to the left, then to the right and left again.
"Good morning, Brinley," Mrs. Michaels' sweet voice says. "How did you sleep last night?"
"Fine," I shrug. Not fine, actually. It was terrible. I woke up about fifteen times to horrifying nightmares. And not only that, but when I opened my eyes for consolation, I couldn't see. No, it was not fine. She doesn't need to know that, of course.
"I'm glad. Why don't you come take a seat and I'll get you some waffles?" She asks.
"Sure. Thank you," I smile.
Joey takes me over to a chair and pulls it out for me. I sit down and hear a plate drop in front of me. A fork is placed in my hand. I feel around my plate for a little while. I can't find my food. I either stab my placemat or miss the waffles and fruit.
"Here," Joey says, taking the fork from me. "I'll help you out."
He pokes the food for me and then gives me back the fork. I feel like an idiot. I try to find the cup of water, but all I find is air and a flower vase. I sigh, giving up. Joey puts the glass in my hand. I should be so thankful that he's patient with me, but I'm not. I'm just frustrated.
I stand up from my spot and find my way out the room with my hands reaching out in front of me. I don't really care where I go. I just need out. Now.
The first door I find, I pull open. I slam it behind me and slide down the back of it. My head falls into my knees, which are curled up into my chest. There's really no way I'll get used to this. I don't think I've ever been this dependent on others.
"Brinley?"
I look up towards the sound of Owen's voice. Did I come into his room?
"What's wrong?" He asks, and I hear his footsteps walking towards me.
I shake my head, knowing that if I say a word, I'll burst into tears. Not because I'm sad. I'm pissed. Why does thing after thing happen to me? What did I do to deserve all of this?
Owen slides down beside me and his arm wraps around me. I turn my face into his shoulder. I want to wake up and this all to have be a dream. I want to open my eyes and see Owen. I want to see Clarin and Joey and Ian and Mrs. Michaels and everyone. I want to see everything. Who really knows the next time I'll look at anything will be? Nobody does.
"I'm sorry I didn't get up earlier," he says. "I should've been up when you were."
"Did I wake you up?" I ask with a frown.
"Yes, and I'm glad," he replies. "It's my job to take care of you."
"It doesn't have to be," I say with a frown. "You aren't required."
"Yes I am," Owen says, resting his head on mine now.
I'm quiet for a second, trying to determine how to word what I want to say to him. I close my eyes tightly. "I hope you don't think you're tied to me because of all the crappy things that've happened lately."
"How many times do I have to say this?" Owen asks with a sigh. "I love you. I will never leave your side. Not if you forget who I am completely, not if you stay blind, not if you get any disease in the world. I don't care. All I care about is you. You're enough for me."
I smile and let out a long breath. "I love you too."
"Hey," Owen says, "it's all over, you know?"
"Yeah, the whole Jonathan thing is over. Thank goodness. But not this. Not my mind. Not my vision-" I stop, blink a few times and lift my head up. What the heck? Why am I not in my bed? Someone's next to me. I reach out and touch their arm, sliding it up to their face and my hand stops on their cheek. "Owen? What are you doing here? Where are we?"
He sucks in a long breath and I can feel his jaw clench beneath my hand. "You're in my room. You came in here this morning."
"Really?" I ask.
"Really," he replies. "Remember when we heard you have short term memory loss?"
I nod my head slowly.
"You don't remember coming in here ten minutes ago," Owen says.
"Oh." I frown. And I can literally feel the tension in this room because of his frustration. "Is my condition going to make you mad?"
"I'll never be mad at you," Owen says. "I'm mad at everything else. I'm mad at Lucas. I'm mad at Jonathan. I'm mad at Ian. I'm mad at myself."
"Why are you mad at yourself?" I ask indignantly.
"Because I couldn't stop this from happening," he says.
"Saving my life just wasn't good enough for you?" I ask.
"I am so glad you're alive and with me right now. But I let you go outside and get your phone even though I knew there was a threat. I'll never forgive myself for that," he says.
"Owen," I say sternly, turning his face to mine, and even though I can't see his eyes, I know his are on mine. "You saved my life. You have saved my life so many times. You have nothing to hold against yourself. I demand that you forgive yourself. Now."
"Only since you demanded,"Owen says, and I can feel his smile under my hand.
*•*•*
The day goes by slowly, mostly consisting of sitting outside on the bench in the garden or laying in my bed beside Owen. He's been reading to me out of his little kid journals that are left here, which is very entertaining.
"Tell me about us," I say, my head resting in his lap while he messes with my hair. "I haven't heard nearly anything."
"What about us would you like to hear?" Owen asks.
"Um... Your favorite memory," I reply. "From before the accident."
"Easy," Owen says. "I had been dating you for about a month at this point. I was so, so desperately in love with you. I took you out to the lake and we sat at the same place we had our first kiss. We swam for a long time, trying to get to the other side of the entire lake. And then you asked me if I had ever tried kissing a girl underwater. I said no, so you wanted to try, naturally."
"And how was it?" I ask with a smile.
"Eh," he shrugs.
I glare up to where I think his face is.
"I'm kidding, it was pretty great. And then we had to swim all the way back across the lake, because that's where I had parked my car. Needless to say, my legs were sore the next day," Owen says.
"Sounds like a good memory," I nod.
"But there was this other day, years ago, and it was pretty good too," Owen continues.
"Really? How long ago?"
"Freshman year. I was crushing on you by then, and so when your mom invited Ian and I over for Christmas dinner, I was ecstatic. I got you this necklace with a B charm at the end, and you wore it every day for two years," Owen says. "It made my life."
"I have that necklace," I say, tilting my head.
"Really?"
"Yeah, I saw it in my jewelry box," I nod.
"You should wear it," he says. "It looks beautiful on you."
"You only say that because you bought it," I grin.
"No, I mean it," he laughs.
"Oh, because I can really take your words to heart while you're cracking up," I roll my eyes.
Someone knocks on my door.
"Come in," I say.
"Hey guys," Clarin's voice comes. "It's almost one a.m. We should get to bed."
"Okay, I'll see you in the morning," Owen says. Then his hand is placed on my cheek and he kisses me. And he stands up to leave.
When the door closes, the bed shifts again, and I know Clarin say down. "There's a letter to you in the mail."
"From who?" I ask.
"Doesn't say," is her reply.
"Can you read it to me?" I ask. What could this possibly be? Wouldn't anyone wanting to contact me just text me?
"Sure," she says. I hear the tearing of the envelope and the unfolding paper. "There are only 3 words. It's not over."
My heart stops. It can only mean one thing. I feel sick. I think I'm going to pass out, actually. Jonathan is still sending people to finish his job.