Page 2 of He Will Come for Me

“I haven’t.” My eyes widen and some of the water goes down the wrong way, causing me to cough. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” His voice is deep and low. My eyes catch the bandages on my wrist, and track marks on my arm along with the IV. Everything comes rushing back. Sucking in a breath, I remember his eyes were the last thing I saw before I fell asleep. Or maybe I passed out.

“Why am I here?” His eyebrows cave in as icy blue eyes bore into mine. He leans back, placing the glass back on the nightstand.

“A doctor will be here in a few minutes to check you over.” I lay back down as I study him. I finally have the freedom to get up and walk around, but I don’t have the strength to do it. I eye him. Maybe he’s giving me what looks like freedom, only to take it away when I get comfortable.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

I swear I see his mouth twitch like he wants to smile. “You don’t want to know the answer.”

I look away from him and back at the ceiling.What is that supposed to mean?I take in my surroundings. This is definitely a step up from where I was. It doesn’t smell like death. The bed is soft and comfortable. Shifting, I grimace at how sore my body is. I look at what I’m wearing and realize I’m in clean pajamas.

“Did you change my clothes?” I’m not as dirty as I was either. I’m still not clean, but I can tell him or someone washed off some of the grime. When he doesn’t answer right away, I turn to look at him. He’s staring at me with that blank look on his face.

“No.” Relief washes through me and I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. The hard lines of his face get harder. He pulls a phone out of his pocket, tapping on it, then brings it to his ear.

“She’s awake.” That’s all he says before pocketing his phone again. No greeting, no bye. I tear my eyes from him and takein my surroundings again. This room is huge. The bed is in the middle. There’s a fireplace on the opposite wall with a television above it. The wall to the right of the bed looks like it might be all windows, but I can’t be too sure because it’s covered by curtains. There are two chairs, one is occupied, the other is empty. My eyes collide with ice again as he watches me take in everything.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

Will he let me go? Or, will it be like my last prison where I’m forced to hold it until I couldn’t anymore or they remembered I was there and took me? Would he watch me as I went, or would he give me privacy?

He doesn’t answer, but he stands and walks over to me, folding back the blankets and lifting me in his arms. I gasp and clutch at his shoulders.

“Can you grab the IV stand and pull it?”

I look from him to the IV stand. “I can walk.”

He narrows his eyes, and I know this is not up for discussion. So, swallowing my pride and nerves, I grab the stand and pull it along. He walks slowly, so the stand doesn’t fall over. After a few steps, I realize how weak I am. When was the last time I ate? I can’t remember.

A cold sweat covers my body, and my chest is tight. Ignoring it for now, I focus hard on not losing my grip on the stand. I’m embarrassed at how slow he has to walk because he can tell how much I’m struggling, but he doesn’t say anything. I’m sure if he had a third arm, he’d drag it instead of having me do it.

He walks to one of the doors in the bedroom. When he opens it and turns the light on, I stare longingly at the huge bathtub. The shower is also large, but I don’t think I could stand long enough. He carries me to the toilet and I suck in a breath as he slowly lowers me to the ground. I sway, but he keeps his arm wrapped around my waist to steady me.He’s going to stay in here.

“Do you need help?” he asks. I glance up at him. He is so tall. I stare at the tattoo that’s peeking out of the top of his shirt. I wonder what it is. My eyes travel along the cords of his neck, along the hard lines of his jaw, up to his eyes. His full attention on me as he waits for me to answer.

“I’d like to try by myself. If that’s okay?”

He nods once. “I’ll be right at the door. If you need help, call out to me. Okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper.

He slowly lets go of me, probably making sure I don’t crumble to the ground. He backs up to the door, watching me closely before opening it and closing it behind him. Shuffling to the toilet, I relieve myself and slowly make my way to the large counter that has two sinks. I’m suddenly grateful he carried me because walking from the toilet to the sink was difficult enough.

I avoid the mirror as I scrub my hands, trying to remove the dirt from under my fingernails. Tears form in my eyes as I stare at the running water.How did this happen? Why did this happen?I don’t even know why I was kidnapped or who kidnapped me. Unable to avoid it any longer, I finally look at my reflection and the tears I’ve been trying to hold back fall.

My silver hair hangs limply, looking dirty and greasy. The only unique thing about me. It was brown when I was younger, but when I hit puberty, it started turning silver.

Apparently I lost the pigment, but I was never mad about it. It’s a beautiful color and I don’t even need a box to make it this way. I always wonder how my beautiful mom and handsome dad made such an average-looking child. I wasn’t average any longer because of my hair, but now with it looking so limp and greasy, the feeling creeps back over me of how I felt before it turned silver. My brown eyes look hollow, with dark circles under them. My cheekbones are prominent because I’m basically skin andbones. The weight I felt on my chest grows as the tears cloud my vision and the image in the mirror becomes blurry.

“Why?” I whisper. “Why did this happen?” I want to slam my fist into the mirror and break it. It would look like how I feel inside. Broken and falling apart.

“McKenzie?” The door opens behind me. I hang my head at his soft voice.

Why is he being so gentle with me? Is he luring me into a false sense of safety?

Turning to face him, he looks back at me with that blank look on his face. He doesn’t react to my tears, simply stares at me. I guess I’m now the prisoner of Phoenix Stone, my father’s enemy.

Chapter 2

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