Page 34 of Not Your Hero

“I … I don’t think so.”

“That’s fine. The doctor said you’re getting enough with the IVs for now.”

“Why are you taking care of me? Did you know the man who took me?” I see the look in his eyes. He doesn’t want to tell me. He doesn’t want to answer, and so he doesn’t. He sits on the edge of his bed and looks at me intently.

“I understand you want answers, but as I said, I can’t give them all to you right now. What do you remember about your time with him?”

“Why should I answer you? You won’t answer me.” I see a ghost of a smile curl his lips as he nods his head.

“You’re right. I’m taking care of you because I want to. When you were gone, I wasn’t myself, Emerson.”

“We weren’t together.”

“No. Not technically.”

“What does that mean?” I ask this time.

“What do you remember?” he asks in return.

“There were girls. So many girls. There was a light, it was so bright and hot it burned us. Then he’d turn on cold air and freeze us.” Something dark flashes in Gannix’s eyes as he looks at me.

“The whip marks?”

“He … he whipped us. Mainly me.”

“Why you?”

“I would talk back, and he hated that,” I admit to him. I clear my throat a few times when he moves to grab something and comes back, sitting on the edge of the bed. When I look at his hand, I see he has a bottle of water with a straw in it. He lifts my head in one hand and brings the straw to my lips. I’m almost afraid todrink it, thinking it might be poison of some kind. He must be able to see my thoughts because he grins and shakes his head.

“If I wanted to hurt you, drug you, I could easily do it with the IVs.” He’s right. He could. I let him put the straw into my mouth and I take a few small sips of the water before he pulls it away.

“You don’t want to drink too much at once,” he warns.

“I don’t understand any of this,” I mumble as I let my head fall back onto the pillow.

“I know, and I wish I could tell you more, but not right now.” I nod my head as he stands and walks through the room. It’s hard not to watch a man who looks like him. My eyes track him as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. I swallow hard as I take him in before he tugs another shirt over his head, blocking my view. He turns quickly to catch me staring, but he doesn’t smile or say anything.

Instead, he walks back over to the bigger bed and pulls the blankets back, about to climb in.

“Can … can I have another blanket?” I ask wearily.

“Of course.” He moves to the closet and pulls out a blanket before coming back over and placing it over me. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” I watch him climb into his bed and pull the blankets up, lying on his side so he’s looking at me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’ve been looking at you for a very long time, Emerson.”

“What does that mean?”

“You remember that credit card? The cameras?” he asks me. Reality slams into me as the shock takes over. That was him? He was the one watching me?

“You … you’ve been watching me all this time? You were the one who sent me those things?” I ask, sounding panicked now.

“It was me.”

“And the other shit? The shirt?”

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