"We only have what we give."
― Isabel Allende
***
Chapter Seven:
Nola jolted up with sweat covering her face and neck. Her head felt as if it had a heartbeat, and her eyes felt droopy and heavy. However, Nola knew she couldn't go back to sleep. "Where am I?" Nola questioned as she glanced around the room.
The place was unfamiliar to her, and that struck fear in her. Panic bubbled up as she tossed the blankets off herself, feeling as if they weighed her down with heat.
"Oh good, you're up," Parker stated as he walked over to her. The second he saw how her face was coated in sweat and how her eyes were battling to stay open; he got concerned. "Nola B. are you okay? You're sweating like a pig." Parker placed his hand on her forehead.
Nola flinched away from his touch but before she did he was able to feel the heat radiating off her forehead. "Damn, you're burning up Nola." Parker looked down at her in concern. "Do you feel okay?"
"I'm fine," Nola lied, knowing that a woman was not to show pain or sickness. However, she couldn't stop herself from grabbing her head because she, truly, did have a splitting headache.
Parker watched as she grabbed her forehead and winced, quickly, in pain. "That's the chloroform. It gives you a headache," Parker told her, knowing that she lied a minute ago about how she was feeling. "You might even feel light headed for a while, but it'll go away. As for your fever, I don't think that has to do with the chloroform. I think you've come down with something."
"Chloroform ... you drugged me ... Why...?" She trailed off in question as she tried to stay awake and hear his explanation. But it wasn't a second later before she realized she had questioned a man on his actions and intentions. Nola was about to apologize but instead of a 'sorry' escaping her lips, yesterday's leftover spaghetti came chucking up.
She had no control, in the realm of stopping herself, as she got sick. Every part of her tried not to imagine the lesson that would be taught after she got done being sick.
Woman are never to get sick - they are to pull through and suck it up as Mitch taught the week she had the flu.
"Oh shit," Parker stated as his eyes got wide. Without thinking twice he raced out the room and into the bathroom. Parker got two rags. One he kept dry, while the other he ran through cool water. Once it was wet, he turned off the sink and twisted the rag, to get rid of the excess water. Running back to the room, he saw that Nola was done throwing up and was crying while muttering a thousand 'I'm so sorry's.
Parker went up to her, "Shhh, shh, shh, it's okay Nola B. Nothing we can't clean up." Parker took the dry rag and brought it to her face.
Nola, with all the energy she could muster scooted away from him and shook her head, "No! Please, no! Not again, please."
Parker looked at her questioningly before realizing the last time he put a rag to her mouth; he knocked her out with chloroform. He sighed, "It doesn't have chloroform." He held it to his mouth and breathed in heavily a few times. "See? I'm awake and fine."
Reaching out, he decided he would not clean the throw up from her face but instead offered her the rag and let her do it herself. Parker, standing there, thought it was the wisest thing for he didn't want to scare her any more than she already was. "It's to clean your face with ... I promise no drugs. No more drugs, ever."
Nola stared at him with her big, dull, green eyes. She wasn't sure if she could trust him, but as seconds melted into minutes, and he gave her a warm smile, she knew that - somehow - he wasn't lying.
With shaky hands, she grabbed the dry rag from his hand and wiped her face off. Once done she looked down at the bed to see the mess she made.
Nola knew she was in for it because when Mitch gets wind that she allowed herself to get sick he'd be mad.
"I'll clean this up," She stated with new found energy. Nola got off the bed and began to take the sheets off.
"Oh no, you don't," Parker stated and went over to her to stop her, but she took three steps back - away from him.
"I'll clean it, p-please, don't be m-m-mad," she pleaded as her eyes started to water. "I didn't mean too."
Parker kept his distance, "I know you didn't mean too. I'll clean this mess. You sit down in that chair," Parker nodded his head in the direction of a chair in the corner of the room.
"I - I - I -"
"I'm your kidnapper, what I say goes."
Nola locked eyes with the boy that was, now, standing on the other side of the bed from her. She studied him for a second, as she noted that he wasn't demanding her - like Mitch did. While his tone held a sternness, it also gave off a playfulness to it - as if he wasn't serious.
She didn't know what to do but listen, like Mitch taught her to do.
Sitting in the chair, Nola watched as Parker took off the sheets and pillowcases. He briefly walked out the room before coming back in and looking over at her, oddly.
"You stayed," He said.
"You - You - You didn't tell me to get up ... I - I don't know what ... what you want me to d-do..."
Parker felt his stomach drop as he looked at the girl before him. She was broken - not like emotionally broken, per se, but more like physically broken. The girl before him as he once remembered to be a spitfire was now an obedient little - dare he say - dog.
Placing his hands on his hips, he began to contemplate on what to say to her. He knew he couldn't yell sense into her. He had to be patient for she needed patience, protection, and someone willing and determined enough - as he was - to bring out the Nola B. he remembered.
"Well, rule number one to when you are first being kidnapped by someone: run and try to escape," Parker had no idea why he was telling her this. Even as the words spilled out of his mouth, he knew she would never run. Someone, who he was dying to meet - personally - had broken Nola B. They had changed her into a person that is programmed to answer every beck and call you might have.
"... If you say so," She mumbled knowing there was no arguing a man.
Parker frowned, "Yes, indeed I have..."
"Can ... can you please take me back to my house? My - My boyfriend ... he - he - he will be wait-ting for me."
Parker, who had just suddenly he noticed how her clothes were dirty from her getting sick just awhile ago, shook his head before strolling over to his drawer. It was then that Parker decided he'd give her a fresh set of clothing and ignore her plea, for now. "I fear that the only clothing I have in this house, as of the moment, is mine. We can go shopping another day if you would like." Parker opened the first drawer and pulled out a pair of his boxers. Closing it, he opened the second drawer. He rummaged through the drawer, trying to find a shirt that would be cool enough for her to wear. He didn't want Nola to be in a heavy shirt for she was already running a fever.
Soon he settled with a t-shirt he got a few years back for doing a run for breast cancer. It was a worn shirt and showed signs of being washed many, many times. Nevertheless, it was a shirt he always went to when it was hot outside for the fabric was a hundred percent cotton and due to its wear, the fabric had become thin - allowing your skin to breathe easier.
"Here you go," He stated as he handed her the shirt and boxers. "You can change in the bathroom to your right."
Nola hesitantly grabbed the clothes but made no move to the bathroom. "I - I need to go home..."
"In due time, Nola B."
Knowing she was not going to be able to leave for a while, Nola glanced down at the clothes and suddenly got a puzzled look on her face. "Why?" She boldly asked as her eyes watered up.
Parker thought she was asking, again, why he'd kidnapped her. The question to that, he figured should be answered at a later date when she felt better and he knew exactly how to word his reply.
Little did he know that that wasn't what she was asking. No, Nola wanted to know why he was being ... nice, for lack of a better term because while he might have kidnapped her and taken her away from Mitch - who was going to be beyond pissed when she gets home - Parker had helped her.
Mitch has never given her clean clothes when she's gotten sick - which is rarely. Instead, he has teached her lesson about how she needs to be strong and not let some lousy bug or virus weaken her into puking all over the place or being 'lazy'. He would have - and has - let her bath in her own vomit, never bothering to clean the mess - let alone get her new clothes.
When Parker didn't reply, Nola felt like crying for she figured he was mad at her for questioning him. She had a feeling that upon leaving the bathroom he'd be standing there, waiting to teach her a lesson.
Nola got up from the chair and slowly made her way to the bathroom, cherishing the semi-pain free mobility she had now.
She closed the door but stood there still as a statue after doing so. It was then that everything hit her like a ton of bricks.
She had been kidnapped and left Mitch, who was by now, waiting for her.
Nola didn't know exactly how to react to this news that was just now soaking in.
Even still, Nola changed into the clothes he provided. When she was done, she folded her dirty clothes and set them on the granite countertop, neatly.
"Mitch is mad," she told herself when she pictured what he would be doing right now.
Nola stood there, motionless for a second before she started to feel light headed. She reached out and tried to grab the counter as she felt herself sway. However, her fingers couldn't get a grip on the counter fast enough as she tumbled to the ground.
"Nola B.? Was that you?" Parker question from the other side of the door after he heard a loud thumb.
There was no reply, and he started to get worried. "Nola B.? ... Nola? ... Nola ... if you don't answer me, I'm gonna come in there..." He waited a few second, but she didn't reply.
Parker cracked opened the door, "Nola B.?" He questioned once more as he stuck his head in the room.
He didn't see her until his eyes settled down on the floor. "Nola B.!" He shouted as he raced over to her and grabbed her shoulders. Parker gave her a slight shake, "Nola! Wake up! Nola? Did you hit your head?" He knew she was too far from the toilet or tub to hit her head on that, but he feared that she might have hit it on the counter or floor when she fell.
Parker inspected her head. The only thing he found was a cut on the top right of her forehead, up in her hairline. However, as he studied it for a second, he noted that it was an older wound. One made about a day or so ago, judging by the dried up blood that covered the wound.
His eyebrows furrowed together as he wondered how she got that. It wasn't but a minute later that he realized if he asked her she would probably say it was obtained by her tripping and hitting her head on something.
But, Parker knew the truth: whoever was abusing her had done it.
Parker sat down on the ground and pulled Nola in his lap. He checked her heartbeat to find it was going at a perfect, normal, pace. He concluded that she must have gotten lightheaded and fell down.
He gave her a shake, "Nola B. You need to wake up."
Nola gave a whimper and did the most unusual thing; she curled up to Parker.
He sat there, frozen.
Looking down at her, Parker landed sights on a bruise that printed her whole right shoulder. He then looked over at the black eye she had before finally settling sights on the small wound she had on her forehead.
Parker clutched Nola to him as if not only her life but his depended on it. "Never again, Nola B.," He promised. "Never again."