Jesse

28: Confessions, part II

28: Confessions, part II

            "Jesse?" The voice said again. "Can you hear me?"

            The darkness receded, and I felt like I was floating, my head swirling in clouds. Wearily, my eyes fluttered open, and I blinked several times. Where was I? A blurred, white ceiling spun slowly; and I felt still very dizzy. Where had I seen this ceiling before?             Suddenly, the hunger and thirst panged my stomach and throat. I winced.

            "Jesse, how do you feel?"

            I blinked again, as the room came into focus; and I realized where I was. I was lying on Ian's bed, my head propped up with his pillows, as he sat in a chair next to me. I gazed at him weakly smiling, and looked down at my body. I was no longer wearing my clothes. They were Ian's. A simple white shirt of his and shorts. What had happened to my clothes?

            My eyes widened, and it all crushed down on me in a whirlwind of memories. The darkness of being trapped in that closet. My useless screaming. The clatter of his unreachable dinnerware. Harold's mindless cackling. Hearing Ian's voice. Him carrying me. And now I was here, safe, in his house. I was safe. Harold couldn't hurt me here.

            "Tired," I mumbled. I cringed as I felt the back of my head throb, and my side twinge with the bruising of hitting the wall as I hard as I did. I felt my face tingle, aching too. "Hurting too…I'm so hungry…and thirsty…"

            "Right," Ian said. "I was waiting for you to wake up—now, I'll go get you some pain relievers…and food and drink, then we'll talk."

            "Okay…but Ian…"

            "Yeah?"

            "How did I get so…clean…I remember being so bloody, and…"

            He made a caring face. "Don't worry…I washed you up the best I could…You were beat up pretty bad, had me scarred for a moment there; you can keep the clothes."

            "Thanks Ian…"

            He only smiled, leaving me, and my eyes drifting out of the window, taking in the golden sunlight. But I couldn't feel its warmth. I felt empty on the side. Like that beer bottle. I groaned silently, hearing Ian rummage downstairs, faintly. I hated being a burden like this to him. My eyes wandered, scanning the wall in front of me…The blue wall…And I thought of the sky…My mind hazing…And I saw myself beginning to fly…Feeling the air against my face, rush through my hair. Ian was with me. Flying. I closed my eyes, and let my mind go.

            "Here you go," I heard Ian chime happily as I saw him coming into his room with a tray piled high with food and drinks. "Eat and drink up…There's plenty more…"

            Ravenously, I gawked over the tray: at the two club sandwiches he had made, all of the chips, the crackers, and sweets he had managed to bring together. There were cokes, a Gatorade, and even water. He had overdone it. But I was starving!

            "Thanks Ian—"

            "Eat, then we'll talk."

            He didn't have to tell me twice; I dove in, grabbing on the sandwiches first tearing into with a wild hunger wailing in my belly. I devoured it in seconds, and shoved down the other one, along with all the chips; and I snatched off the Gatorade top, raising it to my mouth, gulping and slurping it down madly.