Tender (Book 1 - Complete)

Chapter 10 - Jamie

A faint glow shifts past my eyelids but I ignore it. Sleep is too beautiful and I am far too comfortable to bother with the waking world at this moment. I allow my body to sink back into the comfort below me, heaviness descending upon me the way a waterfall might descend upon a person's shoulders as they stand beneath its brutal force. The only difference being that rather than wet and cold, this is warmth and comfort and peace. I want to bottle up this sensation and drink it. I want to feel it spread inside my veins and nourish my hungry soul.

But the light keeps illuminating behind my lids, a swirl of irritation gathering in my chest at the disturbance. Leave me alone! I wanted everything to leave me alone. I'm so tired. So achingly tired, but even in sleep, I can't rest.

Finally giving up, I lift my weighted eyelids and peer out into my room—only, I'm not in my room. I pull myself into a seated position, my eyes desperately drinking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The warm comfort that had swallowed me up just moments ago is nothing but harsh concrete, and the light dancing obnoxiously around my vision is the blazing gaze of the sun.

I shift into a seated position, taking in the scene around me with horror. My clothes are tattered and bloodied, though I seem to be okay. The site of my leg just moments before I'd blacked out returns to me and I realize I must have mistaken the rubble embedded in my flesh as bone because it doesn't appear that anything is broken. I inspect the scratches tearing up my leg, relieved to find that I'm not nearly as battered as I'd first thought.

I spot my motorcycle to my left, now just a chunk of scrap metal laying dead just meters from my location, and there's a monster of a trunk towering over me on its side mere feet from destroying every bone in my body.

Memories flood through my system, sending spasms through my limbs. With a quick, painful jerk of my body, I shift to glance behind me. The boy! Where was the boy?

My eyes land on his crumpled frame instantaneously. He isn't moving, and from where I sit, I can't make out if he's breathing either. Groans and hisses are pulled from my lips as I grunt my way into standing and begin the excruciating journey across the street to the motionless boy.

Everything within me is in agony as I hobble my way through the street, but with each step I take, the pain seems to recede as if draining from my body. Before I know it, I'm running. It seems to take forever, but I finally reach him and throw myself down beside him. He's so small, so innocent, and I cringe at the possibilities of what's happened. I feel sick.

Reaching down, I pull the boy into my lap—despite the distant warning bells blaring in my head that he shouldn't be moved. He's like a limp noodle, and the chill of his flesh has hope dwindling away. I push my fingers to the side of his neck, and complete stillness settles over the entire world in that moment as I wait. I close my eyes, training all my scenes on the feel of his pulse.

I can almost hear the click of a clock as it indicates the end of time. The end of this boy's time... and mine... because I most certainly won't want to live after being the cause of his death.

My eyes are still shut, and as the seconds pass, my grip loosens. I'm just about to slide my fingers away from his throat when I feel it.

Thump...

...

...

...

Thump-thump...

An odd gurgle of ecstasy escapes my throat as I pull the boy towards me, cradling his head in my hands.

"Wake up," I cry, tapping his cheek with my fingers. "Please, wake up."