Rescue Me

Fifty

I woke up several days later.

Everything hurt. I've never felt so sore and tired in my entire life. Opening my eyes felt like the hardest task I've had to do in a long time. But something inside of me was screaming to wake up.

I was in a room I didn't recognize. The gold accents on the walls were the first thing I noticed. My eyes flickering to the mahogany fire place next, then the black velvet chairs, and then I spot someone in a chair next to me.

They were resting their head on the edge of my bed. Soft snores emitting from their mouth as they were clearly asleep. Even though their face wasn't toward me, I knew it was Cato.

It must've been early. The room was bright, only because of the sun reflecting off the snow that had fallen. The light was intense, but clearly both Cato and I had no problem sleeping through it.

I slowly move my head so I could get a better look at him. I was under the covers, my arms resting at either side of my body. And that was when I spot where his hand was. Which was completely over mine, almost swallowing it whole. His thumb was tucked underneath the space between my thumb and pointer finger. Practically holding on for dear life.

I couldn't help but let my mind wander toward when I was in the hospital a couple months ago. He barely visited. And when he did, he would sit on the edge of the bed at a distance. Staring like I was some stranger that he didn't know.

And now look at him.

I slightly raise a finger underneath his hand. And his body jerks awake. He sits up, his blue eyes standing out from everything in the room.

"Hey," He says, his voice was rough from just waking up. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," I tell him, eyes running over every inch of his face. I notice the dark bags first, "You look like shit."

He chuckles, "You should take a look in the mirror too."

Oh I'm sure I looked like hell. But I just got my shit rocked by my ex best friend, what excuse does he have?

"How long have I been out?" I ask.

"About two days," He explains, sitting up in the chair fully. "The doctors have been in and out. Nothings broken, which is good. Just a couple of bruised ribs."

I nod, "Where is he?"

"In one of the cells downstairs," Cato explains, moving the chair closer to the bed. So I was in the mansion. "I'd be surprised if he was still breathing on his own down there."

"What do you mean?"

He looks away, "Paid him a visit after you got situated up here."

"Didn't you already knock him out?" I question, "You hit him while he was unconscious?"

"No I waited till he regained consciousness. I'm not that much of an asshole," He explains, licking his lips. He was wearing a grey knitted sweater that suited his features very nicely. "Then I roughed him up a little bit, again."

"What does roughed up a little bit entail?" I ask, trying to hide the smile on my face.

"Hand cuffed him to one of the poles down there and beat him till he was unconscious again," He explains nonchalantly. "Told him that's what he gets for hitting a girl."

This time I let the smile out. There wasn't one singular part of me that cared for Rolland anymore. He did deserve that, if not more. He got me shot, and then tried to kill me down there again.

Karma's a fucking bitch.

"Why do you look like you haven't slept?" I ask.

"I haven't gotten much sleep," He says, running a hand through his hair.