Page 16 of The Tower

This was actually my plan. It was my main reason for getting up on my feet as often as possible, trying to regain my strength as quickly as possible. It was also the reason I asked for the morphine doses to be lowered, despite the bliss they brought.

"You'll have to," Keane insists, reaching for the IV in my arm. "Hold still."

I freeze in horror, watching as he removes the needle from my arm with an effortless speed that suggests he's done this before. He applies pressure on the insertion while fetching a Band-Aid from the table next to my bed and placing it where the needle used to be.

"Please, you're scaring me," I say, casting him a pleading look. "Are you letting me go? Can I leave and go to a real hospital? Is that it?"

He destroys the glimmer of hope that lifted me for a euphoric moment by shaking his head. "No. We're going somewhere else."

"We? So you're coming with me?"

He looks at me, a crease appearing between his hazel eyes. "Of course."

"Good." I swallow dryly, unsure whether I should disclose the relief that's washing over me upon hearing those words. Next to the doctor, he's the only person I've seen or talked to in the past four days, and while neither one of them ever answered any of my questions, I feel an odd sense of security around him. The doctor ducked away every time I threw another question at him, looking just as scared as I am. At some point, he even begged me to stop like a frightened child. Whatever brought him in this position, it appears he dislikes being here as much as I do. Maybe he has been kidnapped, too. Maybe he's just a man in need, trying to pay off a debt. Either way, he never gave me the impression that he'd be able to protect me in a situation that called for it.

Keane, however. He's... something else.

You know what he is. A criminal, a murderer.

He radiates intimidation and power, seemingly in control even when he's clearly not the one steering this scary boat. He may be the one responsible for my predicament, but in spite of everything, he also appears to be protecting me from something.

Or someone.

"You should get dressed," he says, holding up the clothes he brought with him. "Quickly."

I hesitate, my eyes moving back and forth between him and the pile of clothes. They look like men's clothes and way too big. I didn't expect to see any of the things I wore that terrible night ever again, but my bloodstained sneakers have been waiting for me right next to the door ever since I woke up.

His eyes narrow. "Do you need help?"

A hot wave of embarrassment overcomes me at the thought of asking for his help. It means he'd see me naked, completely naked. And he'd touch me.

I shake my head. "I'm fine."

He nods and steps aside, letting me believe for a second that he'll leave the room to grant me some privacy. But it appears he has other plans. He just moves aside so I can get off the bed, showing no intention of leaving me by myself.

"Could you... not look?" I ask with my voice quivering while I slowly, very slowly climb off the bed, letting my feet dangle over the edge for a moment before I lower them down to the floor.

My head is turning just from sitting up.Shit.

I can do this. I have to.

I take a deep breath, trying my best to pull myself together. It's all the harder because I can feel his eyes on me, observing, pushing.

I ignore him, taking another breath before I slowly glide off the mattress. I know I can stand and walk on my own because I've done it plenty of times during the past couple of days. But I always needed time to get used to it, balancing my dizzy self with only one arm while the other is still firmly attached to my chest.

And not once have I tried to undress in this state, let alone dress in an entirely new outfit.

"Of, for God's sake," he hisses, closing in on me with two wide steps. "We don't have time for your nonsense, Libby. Let me help you."

I want to protest and push him away, but I know he's right. Even if time wasn't an issue, this would be an ordeal if I had to do it on my own. An ordeal that he can save me from if I let him.

I bite my lower lip, lowering my gaze in shame but not fighting him off when he reaches for the hem of the gown and pulls it up over my head in one swift motion, a little too carelessly considering the state I'm in.

I curve my back instantly, slouching my shoulder as I try to protect my naked and wounded body from his eyes.

"Stop that," he snaps at me, throwing the gown aside, then he surprises me by saying, "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

I don't need a mirror to know that my cheeks blush at his words, and I'm sure he can see it when I look up, and our eyes meet.

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