Blinded

Waking Up...

 Reality comes to Alesia slowly, confusing her at first when the dark-brown wall paper isn't Jenna's bright green, and the deep red satin sheets aren't the baby blue cotton ones she passed out on.

She blinks until the room to come into focus, Alesia turns, surprised to see a man sleeping in the chair next to her bed. He's slumped in an uncomfortable position, his head of brown hair a rat's nest like he has run his fingers through it a dozen times.

Her eyes travel from his hair to his face, brows creasing as she tries to figure out who he is. The man can't be older than twenty-five, yet there's a familiarity about him that she can't pin until her gaze falls to his broad shoulders covered in a white buttoned up shirt and taking in his gray slacks that match the jacket that hangs on the chair.

The words suddenly topples, her mind buzzing with bits that piece together and the night comes back to her. A strangle of fear clutches her insides and she turns, groaning to sit and remove the covers.

Mr. Hale wakes up at the sound of her gasp, eyes opening to show a milky film over what could have been golden irises. Searching the unseen sound until his gaze falls onto the bed where Alesia's attempting to slide from the bed. Pain shooting through her with each inch that she accomplishes.

"Alesia?"

There's a strain in his voice and guilt rises up for involving him. She shouldn't have called him, but Jenna was desperate, and she didn't know who else to turn to.

"Mr. Hale, I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do," she says, voice cracking as the sobs return. She swipes away the tears, turning away from the man as he comes closer. Mr. Hale's breath fans across her face while his finger's brush through her hair, attempting to calm her down.

"Shh, rest, we'll worry about it in the morning."

Surprisingly, her body doesn't reject the contact. Without realizing it, she leans into his touch. Flipping onto her side to curl closer to him, and reaching out to brush her fingers across his hand. Their fingers curl together, and tears to fall from her eyes.

Her body still aches; she can feel the burning from the inside with each movement. Cringing from the pain, she turns her face into the pillow to hide it from the man before her.

"It hurts," she whispers.

"I know," Mr. Hale says, continuing to stroke her hair. He turns to the sound of water being shut off and woman steps out of the bathroom. Mouth pierced together while watching the two near the bed.

His sightless eyes meet the woman's as she throws the towel onto dry the dresser and walks out of the room. Alesia ignores the woman as Mr. Hale continues brushing his fingers through her hair, whispering calming noises into her ear.

When her breathing becomes steady, he pull his hand from hers without protest, standing to slip from the room. Careful not to make a noise, believing Alesia to be a sleep when really she can hear everything being said in the hallway.

"Well," he says.

"Definitely rapped, there's enough bruises and tears to prove that," the woman replies, the disdain for the situation clear in her voice.

There's a moment of silence where Alesia can imagine Mr. Hale's hands tightening into fists at his side. Using that forced calm he knows so well to keep from pounding something. Alesia's own breath picks up and she shuts her eyes, forcing herself to mimic him.

"Any idea who it could have been?" The woman asks with the sound of a bag being snapped shut.

"I've got an idea."