DEAD IN BED By Bailey Simms: The Complete Second Book

PART 13, AUTHOR'S NOTE - 2/22/15, 6:36am

I must have sat in the tub like that with Kyle for an hour, pleading with him not to die. 

I added more hot water at least three times. I kept my hands loosely wrapped around both of his wrists, feeling for his pulse.

His heart was beating so slowly. 

A heartbeat came maybe once only fifteen or twenty seconds. For a while it slowed down and his pulse did this weird, weak fluttering thing. This completely freaked me out. I was sure he was dying. I held on to him tightly and begged him to stay with me.

Eventually, though, very slowly, his heart rate began to increase. I felt a pulse as often as every ten seconds. Then, a while later, every five seconds. Finally, when his body started regaining all of the heat it had lost outside in the cold rain, his heart started beating at a strong, regular rate.

His muscles tensed. His eyes flickered open.

I was so happy that I could barely keep myself from screaming out in pure elation. Kyle was alive. And he was awake.

"Hi," I said softly. I couldn't help but smile.

But in response he did something that totally surprised me, and scared me. He jerked away and turned around, flinging water everywhere. Then he stood up in the tub, dripping bathwater. His eyes were filled with utter confusion.

I realized he had no idea where he was or what was happening. He'd just awakened submerged in water, naked, and with someone's arms holding onto him from behind. Now, standing above me, he tugged at the line around his neck in a panic and looked around the room frantically.

"It's okay," I said, standing so I could look him in the eyes. "It's okay. You're safe. You're with me." Careful not to startle him any further, I put my arms gently around his shoulders.

Finally, he recognized who I was.

Then, I could tell he suddenly remembered what had happened to him. The last thing he must have remembered was shivering uncontrollably in the dark, wintery rain, uncertain whether he was going to freeze to death or be burned alive. Now, suddenly, here he was in a bathtub, inexplicably staring at the girlfriend he'd been kept locked away from, who was as naked as he was, and soaking wet. This must have made no sense at all. I should have expected him to be confused.

He looked into my eyes. And then he sobbed. I hugged him tight. "It's okay," I whispered again. Gently, I lowered him back down into the warm tub.

Kyle had spent so much time looking out for me: protecting me from my dad, tirelessly making sure I was okay in LA and safe in the dorms, even worrying constantly about me on my motorcycle. I never would have been able even to embark on my new life without his endless support. I owed him everything. And now it was my turn to be there for him. I just held onto him while he clung to my wet shoulders and cried. He'd been through so much more than I had.

Finally, he drew a deep breath. "I thought I'd never see you again," he said.

I filled the tub with more hot water and explained how we'd ended up there in the bathroom. I told him that for a while, I'd thought he'd died. I told him how it felt like the universe was coming to an end when I felt his pulse fall to a weak sputter.

"Thank you," he said, very quietly, and his voice was filled with heartbreaking gratitude. Then he kissed me. Very softly. I'd never felt him kiss me that way before. I kissed him back in exactly the same way, and, suddenly, it's hard to explain, but it felt like we weren't just boyfriend and girlfriend, but two people who'd come to share something larger by far than both of us, something whose permanence would transcend everything, even death. I know that sounds lame, and naive. But for a moment, honestly, I wasn't sure where I ended and he began. After everything we'd gone through together, no one would understand me like Kyle, not ever.

When he gently pulled away, he touched the plastic string around his neck. It trailed away across the wet tile floor and out the bathroom doorway. I could tell Kyle was thinking about what had happened the last time he'd been forced to wear this menacingly thin noose, when he'd been dragged across the room by his neck and had almost choked to death.

"We have to get out of the tub," he said. "We can't be in here like this. I wish I could stay in here forever with you. I really do. But he can't see us in here like this."

Kyle hadn't yet fully regained his strength, and I helped him stand. We both dried off and put our clothes back on. I helped him into bed, retrieved the now-cold chicken soups from the desk, and climbed under the duvet with him. We were both so hungry, it didn't matter that the soup was cold. Kyle tried to give me his bowl, insisting, because I'd eaten even less than he had over the last few days that I should eat more, but after what he'd just gone through I refused. He desperately needed to regain his strength.

I knew that this moment, under the covers, would be fleeting. The cop could come back at any moment and take Kyle away again. It was a miracle that he'd let him stay this long already.

So I tried to savor every second sitting with Kyle in that narrow bed, our legs intertwined. We lay our heads on the pillow. Pretty soon, Kyle's eyes closed again.

"I don't want to fall to sleep," he whispered. "I don't want to go anywhere that's not right here with you."

But he'd been completely exhausted after his near-death ordeal, drained of energy after hours of intense shivering, and I could tell that he'd been struggling to stay awake even while we'd been eating. His body desperately needed rest. His arms around my waist relaxed, and he drifted off.

I couldn't bring myself to wake him. Now when he lay on the bed with his eyes closed he looked so peaceful.

But no matter how badly I wanted to drift away in Kyle's arms, I couldn't fall to sleep.

I just couldn't stop thinking about how dire our situation had become. I tried to collect my thoughts and make sense of everything, but I couldn't even begin to do that until I finally decided to get up and write everything out to you guys in this post.

And writing it out has helped a lot. It really has.

But as I sit here at this computer waiting for the coming dawn, I still can't help but think that I really don't know how we're ever going to make it through my writing the last two parts of my book. Not while the cop keeps making more demands that are further and further beyond reason, and not while my symptoms are only getting worse...