Alive at Last

So devon's awake now. Not dead.

 

                I felt my face flush as he snatched my hand. I didn’t think it was wise to allow it to stay there, but considering his condition, I knew I had to do my best to keep him comforted. I let out a sigh and squeezed his hand. It was warm and gentle, yet also strong and protective. Who’s Juliet? I asked myself curiously. He had jolted up right, fully awake, and screamed her name, and then fell back down. Since then, he hadn’t moved once. If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, I would have thought he was dead. Again. I didn’t allow my mind to wander on the subject too long. I began asking questions about the situation to distract my mind. Why are you here? How did you manage to do this? Why has no one come looking for you?

                “Here’s the water,” Essie huffed as she stumbled into the bathroom, completely winded. Raven and Crane quickly followed. I took the water bottle and set it aside. At my command, Raven and Crane emptied the paper towel dispensers. Crane damped the ones he had, and Raven gave me hers dry.

                “Thanks,” I murmured. Then another thought hit me. “Crane? Do you have another dollar?”

                “Yeah, why?”

                “Run to the vending machine again and grab a fruit bowl thingy or something. He might be hungry when he wakes up.”

                Crane nodded and took off. I turned my attention back to Devon. He looked so calm when he slept. I took the wet paper towels and began dabbing the dried-and fresh- blood off of his face. I placed the dry ones against the back of his head to stop the bleeding. Once I was sure the downpour of crimson had ceased, I brushed his hair out of his face to make sure I hadn’t missed any. I couldn’t help but notice my eyes soften as I stared at his face. His jaws were strong and angular, yet also curved. It was a strange combination that worked well on him. His cheekbones were high which made me think of Native Americans. I couldn’t resist my hand’s urge to poke the single, tiny freckle under his left eye, which was usually hidden by the hair. His cheeks, though clearly deprived of sun and blood, still held a rosy-brown tint to them.

                “What in the hell are you doing? You stupid or something?” Essie snapped. I knew it wasn’t an impulse of anger. It was one of fear.

                “Don’t worry, he’s not dead,” I assured.

                “What f*****g makes you think that?” she cried, unmistakable terror and frustration in her eyes.

                I groaned irritably and pointed at his chest. After a good fifteen seconds of staring, she finally realized what I was gesturing at.  ‘Oh’ she mouthed.

                We sat there for a moment in silence. Every once and awhile, Raven would murmur a prayer, and then go back to rocking on her heels quietly.

                “Ya know,” Essie finally spoke, her words breaking the silence like a metal bat would a fragile glass vase. “He’s kinda hot.”

                I cut a glance at her, and Raven responded with, “Esmerelda! You shouldn’t say that! You have a boyfriend!”

                “Just because I’m a dog on a leash doesn’t mean I can’t bark when I see a good looking b***h. Am I right?” she said dryly, her obvious humor attempting to mask the truth.

                “Eep!” Raven squealed. “He’s waking up!”   

                I glanced down and sure enough, his eyes were fluttering open. His cracked lips parted, a saddened and pain-filled groan escaping from them as if it was a demon taking its chance to escape Hell as the earth split apart. He began stirring, his effortless wiggles so subtle I had began to question if they were real. The obvious pain spouting across his face confirmed their existence.

                “Careful,” I murmured. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

                As if my words triggered some sort of mental gun, he snapped his head to look at me. He stared into my eyes blindly, seeing me yet not seeing a thing. Quickly, though, realization sparked the life back into his green irises and he began to look around unsurely.

                “Why-” he began. His words were cut short by what I assumed was pain.

                 “Be careful, d****t! You’re hurt. Bad. You don’t need to strain yourself. Just lie down,” I commanded.

                He cut his eye’s back to me. He took in a large breathe and, using what I assumed was lot of effort for him in this state, hoarsely whispered, “Yes. I like that idea.”