Page 20 of I Survived and will rise again

I walk closer to her bed, taking the empty chair beside it. Elisa's eyes are still closed, her head resting on her arm and the other tucked underneath her pillow. From this angle, she looks peaceful. Her face is regaining its natural color, her cheeks are filling in, and her lips are no longer chapped. They're getting back to their natural red. Her hair is clean and pulled up in a ponytail. I gently ghost my knuckle down her cheek to her chin.

As if she can sense me, she slowly opens her eyes. I feel a tug at my heartstrings as I look at her and see the empty look in her beautiful hazel eyes that was left behind by her brothers.

"Jo?" she whispers, barely audible.

"Yes, baby. It's me." I smile at her, trying to hide the sadness that I feel inside.

She quickly sits up, and I help steady her as she nearly jumps into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck as I wrap my arms around her. I can feel her trembling, so I hold her closer.

"Oh, my God, Jo," she cries against my neck.

I rub her back, trying to soothe her. I take in the sweet scent of peonies I've missed so much.

"It's okay, Elisa. I'm here now."

"I'm so glad you're okay," she whimpers.

She clings to me like she's afraid I'll vanish when I try to pull away. "Elisa, I want to look at you," I say in a calm tone.

She kisses my neck softly, creating goosebumps on my skin. When she pulls away, our faces are so close together, I could kiss her, but I don't. And I won't. Not yet.

She sits on her side facing me, and I can see the pain and fear in her eyes.

"I can't believe you're really here. Fuck." My heart is pounding in my chest and tears well up in my eyes as I take her in. "I'm so fucking sorry for not protecting you," I whisper, my voice cracking and the tears falling.

As she reaches out for me, her hand trembles before she pulls back, like she'll get burned. Her eyes are filled with sorrow, and streams of tears are falling down her face, leaving glistening trails on her skin.

"Don't be afraid to touch me, baby. Please," I beg, wanting her to know I never stopped loving her. Never stopped wanting her. And no matter what happened, I don't hold anything against her because none of it was her fault.

“I’m not afraid of you, Jo,” she says, her voice hoarse. “I didn’t think you wanted to see me,” she says in a broken voice.

I move my chair closer, dragging the pole along, and reach out to clasp her hand. Concern laces my voice as I ask her, "Why would you say that?" I try to ease her anxiety by rubbing small circles over her hand, just like I used to do to calm her down.

Her eyes, a beautiful shade of gold with a hint of green, rise to meet mine. Her lips part in an "O," and her eyes widen in apprehension. "Because of what they did to you. Because of me," she whispers. Tears stream down her face as she looks down.

"It wasn't your fault, Elisa. I never once thought that. Do you believe me?" I tilt her chin gently to make her look at me and wipe away her tears. She places her hand on mine as I cup herface, and she leans into me, clinging to my shirt, craving my touch as if it can erase everything that has happened.

Her eyes reveal the pain and hurt that she's been carrying all along. "I thought I lost you for good," she confesses. Her voice is tinged with sadness and regret. "Jo, I'm afraid things will never be the same between us."

I pause for a moment, absorbing the weight of her words. We both went through a traumatic experience, and the road toward healing will be long and arduous. But hearing her articulate the same fear that has been gnawing at me only heightens my anxiety. Losing her again would be unbearable.

I nod, offering her a sympathetic smile. "Baby, it's going to take time. Healing doesn't happen overnight," I reassure both her and myself.

"But what if we can't move past this, Jo?” she asks in a shaky voice. “What if we're never able to go back to how things were before?"

"My love for you never went away. You were there for me when I was struggling to keep my shit together. If you still love me, then we can heal together. We’ll never be alone.” I gently hold her face with both hands, and she reaches out to grasp my wrists. With a slight tilt of my head, I look deeply into her eyes and ask, “Do you love me?”

She glares at me like I lost my fucking mind. “Of course I do,” she says without any display of doubt. “Don’t ever question that again.”

I can’t help but let out a chuckle. “There’s my girl,” I tease her.

Suddenly, her face changes, and a small smile appears that quickly fades away. Her voice quivers, and before I know it, she breaks down sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Jo. I—I’m so so-sorry.”

With the last bit of energy I can muster, I pull her toward me and seat her on my lap, not giving two shits about the IV tubes yanking out from my skin.

As my fingers graze her stomach, I feel a sudden urge to ask about the baby we lost. We both need to be emotionally prepared to discuss it, and I am simply not ready to confront the reality of the situation just yet. So I hold back, silently acknowledging our unspoken understanding that the conversation will come when the time is right.

The weight of her emotions is evident in the way her shoulders shake as she sobs, and how her breath comes in ragged gasps as she struggles to compose herself.

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