Kat
My head hurt. Not “take a pill; it’ll be over soon” hurt. No, this was more like “kill me now to get rid of the cleaver in my head.” The pain pounded through my veins, through my limbs, until the need to rip my own head off to make it go away overwhelmed me.
Until I felt his presence.
“Shhh, little one, little…Katherine. Rest now.”
“Kat. Call me…Kat.”
Why I said it, I wasn’t sure. I just did. I wanted to laugh, to ask the voice how I was supposed to rest when I felt like I was going to shake apart, but darkness swamped me. When I reached for the voice, nothing was there.
Story of my life, huh?
The taste of something rich and smooth in my mouth woke me next. Instinct had me swallowing, gulp after gulp. When whatever it was disappeared, I whined at the denial, but then the feel of the hot sun searing my skin took over, except the heat was inside me like the pain, inescapable, unwavering, until I begged for relief.
“I’m here, little Kat. It’s your fever. It will pass.”
The words floated along the walls of my mind, washing them like water, clearing out the agony, replacing it with sweet, cool relief.
Concern. I could feel his concern. I was concerned too. I couldn’t take much more, not without finding a long tunnel and a bright white light.
A chuckle echoed in my head. “No white lights,” the voice said. “You don’t strike me as the kind of female to run from a fight.”
I turned the words over like building blocks, searching for meaning. Did I run from fights? Did I even have fights? I didn’t know. All I knew was I needed the pain to stop. “I’m so tired. Just…tired.”
Another cool wash of peace. He was good at it, whatever he was doing. The pain receded, just a tiny bit, allowing me to breathe. To think. To wonder…
Why does my conscience sound like a man?
No, not my conscience.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m Grim.”
My sigh echoed his words in my head. Not a promising start—who had a name like Grim? Panic tried to rise, fighting the layers of peace and losing. I was too exhausted to care right now. Besides, the voice was a tiny distraction from the body I couldn’t escape, a distraction I realized I’d do anything to hold on to. I didn’t want to be alone, not again. I couldn’t seem to remember my life, but the knowledge that I’d spent most of it alone crouched in the darkness of my agony.
I tried to turn my head, to see the source of that voice, but again nothing was there. Nothing I could see, anyway. “You came back. Why don’t you stay on this ride with me? Or better yet, take me with you when you leave.”
“I wish I could, Kat. But the only escape for you is death. And we don’t want that, now do we?”
“Really?” A hard shudder racked me down to the bones. “’Cause I’ve been seriously considering it.”
The admission showed just how far gone I actually was. I’d never admitted that to anyone. Not that there was anyone to admit it to, really, but still… Even in my own mind, I hadn’t come to the point of admitting I wanted everything to end.
Another cooling wave of peace slid through, drawing a sigh from deep inside me. The pain was still there, still throbbing, but my brain refused to feel it, told me I could bear it, could get through it now.
“Rest, little Kat. We won’t lose such a precious gift so soon.”
He’d obviously mistaken me for someone else. Some far-off, segregated part of me absorbed the crushing blow—I’d never been precious. He was helping the wrong person, had to be. But before I could point that out, the nothingness returned, and gratefully I let it take me.
A chill shook me back to awareness. No longer burning, now I shivered. I huddled, motionless, quiet, uncertain. A warm wash of air along my goose-bumped skin reassured me, calmed my thudding heart as I savored the lessening bite of cold inside me. That rich taste hit my tongue again, and a relieved sigh escaped as I took it in, swallowing repeatedly.
So good. Please don’t let it stop.
“It won’t, Kat. Your fever has broken. We are almost there. It’s all good from here.”
Good. I’d had very little good lately. Just this miniscule moment of connection was worth a thousand moments of the “good” I’d had in my life.
God, I’m getting sappy. But then the source of that taste disappeared. When I felt that voice begin to slide away as well, leaving me once more in the silence, alone, I couldn’t stop the protest. My mind commanded my body, pleading, and though I couldn’t move, I used every ounce of energy to surge forward, to pull him back, to hold on to that other presence just a little bit longer.
And that energy hit a brick wall.
The impact sent me reeling, my body still immobile.
“Ah, little Kat.” The feel of warm arms wrapping around my soul came through clearly. “Don’t do that again. It’s too dangerous. You don’t understand what you’re doing.” Phantom fingers soothed my brow, then dipped to my eyelids. Darkness descended. “Rest. I’ll be here when you wake.”
“No, you won’t. No one ever is.”
Why would I admit that? No one knew—what my life was like, what I felt, what I yearned for. No one cared. And I’d accepted that. Hadn’t I?
I fought the fog, fought to understand what was happening to me, but the last ounce of strength ebbed from my body like the tide, washing both my questions and my self away.