You Distract Me

Pain

Olivia

Pain.

The pain was everywhere. The smoke in my lungs, in my eyes. The burns on my back; my bare feet as well. The singed hair on my head. I couldn't possibly imagine how I looked if I felt that bad.

Byron's uncomfortably muscular arms were holding me to his chest. I couldn't see or understand what was going on around me, but according to the alarming pace of his heartbeat, he was either overly excited or dead scared.

Well, we had almost been blown up to pieces, so it would make sense to have extra adrenaline pumping through our blood. I tried to speak but ended up in a fit of coughs.

"Don't speak, miss, try to save as much energy as possible."

"Remind," I hacked away between words, "me again why you won't let me go to a hospital. I can't handle this pain... please."

"Just a little bit more."

"Why?"

"Don't worry about it."

As my mind tried to think of a reason for not being allowed to receive any medical attention, it also tried to make sense of what had happened not too long ago.

We had left the gym. Byron had driven us back safely to the apartment. And I had just stepped out the shower when the ground suddenly gave a mighty shake.

Without thinking twice, I'd ran out my room with a miniscule towel wrapped around my body. Byron had immediately covered me with his own jacket, and with only the pull of his hand as guidance, we'd started to make our way through the building.

There had been thick black smoke, hot and vengeful flames, and so much noise, I could hardly make sense of my surroundings. As though my burning throat and the scorching floor hadn't been enough, a red hot ceiling beam gave out. We hardly had any time to dodge it before it wacked me on the back. Instant blackout.

Which brought me to waking up in excruciating pain, silence, and a cool breeze I would have appreciated under different circumstances.

If only I could open my eyes. "Just out of curiosity, have my eyes melted away?"

He let out a strained chuckle. "You're good," he said, right before he winced and shifted around me.

It then hit me that I had been completely selfish about my own pain that I hadn't had the decency to ask Byron if he was okay. He could have simply left me to die, and yet he'd risked his life by dragging me along even though he was merely hired to watch over a total stranger.

I slowly opened my eyes and was relieved to find that I still had my sight, albeit a painful and blurry one.

But as soon as my eyes adjusted, I hoped I hadn't opened them. We were huddled in Byron's truck, which was parked in a quiet street that I realized was not too far from our apartment. The night was pitch black.

My heart ached as I took in Byron's burns.

It seemed most of the left side of his body and face had also faced the wrath of the hateful ceiling beam. All of his curly ginger hair was gone. His pain must have been at least five times my own. I looked away in shame.

"Don't worry about me, miss, I can handle some pain. My main concern is you."

"Then why didn't you take us both to a hospital?"

"It's no longer safe for you anywhere at the moment. Besides I had to follow a direct order."

I bit down on another wave of blinding pain, digesting his words. "Are you saying that what happened has something to do with me? And what do you mean 'a direct order'? A direct order from who?"