Perilous Flames [clifford a.u]

chapter thirty eight - bullet wounds

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT - BULLET WOUNDS

"How long do you think it will take?"

It was that question coming from a voice I hadn't heard in a while that stirred me awake. Awake and away from the sleep that I had so desperately wanted to crawl away from.

My eyelids were heavy and my body felt stiff. Even though my mind had managed to come into consciousness, it was my body that was having difficulty processing along with it. So instead, I just kept still and listened.

"It can be a few minutes to a couple of hours, Mr. Irwin. If she isn't healed enough, it will take longer," replied a soft female voice.

"It's been two days, Wendy. I'm sure that she'll come around," he replied sternly and then paused before saying more softly, "She has to."

"Should I call up Mr. Clifford then?"

"If he's willing to tear himself away from training and practice, then by all means. Let him know that his Sleeping Beauty is about to wake up."

There was footsteps crossing a wooden floor followed by the sound of a closing door, and then silence. Utter silence that the need to wake up now was absolutely necessary.

So with a few twitches here and there, I felt myself beginning to revive. Slowly but surely, I inhaled a large amount of air to break myself away from the muddy state of consciousness my mind wanted to stay in.

An abrupt movement sounded somewhere near me. "Aiden?" My name sounded unsure in their voice.

My eyes didn't take long to open and suddenly I found myself blinking and looking up to the familiar cream-colored ceiling from the place I had desperately wanted to see in the past few days.

As soon as my eyes opened, Ashton's face came into view as he was peering down at me, looking concerned.

I opened my mouth once and tried to speak but it only resulted into a fit of coughing for me.

Ashton's hands immediately came out, palms facing me. "Don't speak. You don't have to if you can't." He was already moving towards the table on the side to grab a bottle of water. He handed it to me and proceeded to take a seat in a chair beside my bed.

I took a quick sip of water, and even though it was only what I intended to take, the feel of the liquid on my parched mouth and throat sent me gulping down the entire thing in 5 seconds. "Thank you," I mumbled once I finished, my voice still coming out in a horrible croak. 

Reaching over, Ashton took the bottle away and placed it on the bedside table. When he turned back to face me, his eyes were filled with frustration and sadness. "How are you feeling?" 

I cleared my throat to remove as much roughness as I could before speaking slowly, "Okay...Everything hurts still, though." 

Ire burned across his eyes. "Well, you did get shot. And you were kept prisoner," he mumbled, and after a second narrowed his eyes at me. "What were you thinking?"

The air suddenly felt thick and my mind flashed back to seeing Michael in the prison room, all chained, beaten and bloody. To having to hear the wailing sounds of the tortured every day. To seeing the pools of blood the night we escaped. My stomach coiled at the memory. "I was thinking about Michael. Everything I did was to get Michael the hell out of there," I responded, and couldn't help but feel a tidal wave of guilt. Everything for Michael and at the cost of having Julian killed and Luke left behind. The guilt transformed into something bigger, something that had me almost wanting to hurl up all the water that solely brimmed my stomach. "What happened?" I questioned through a terrified mumble. Who else could have possibly gotten left behind, or worse, gotten killed while I was passed out from a stupid bullet?