Page 10 of Bound to the Guard

With exaggerated motions, so I’m aware of what he’s doing, Damien pushes the machine to the side. The metal legs scrapeon the floor, the sound loud in the room’s stillness. I freeze as the barrier between us disappears, leaving me out in the open.

And yet, somehow, nothing registers as a threat. Something about the way Damien moves conveys he means no harm, and I’m not sure what to make of this tentative trust trying to take root.

With the barrier out of the way, Damien scoots backward, putting more distance between us, and reaches up to drag the blanket off the hospital bed.

He holds it out to me. “It must be cold, sitting on this tiled floor in only a hospital gown.”

My mind spins with possibilities as I stare at the blanket. Is this a trick? A trap? Will he grab me the moment I reach out?

But I can’t remember the last time I was warm, and the blanket tempts me. Motions jerky, I keep a wary eye on him as I uncurl to crawl forward, leaving the safety of my corner. My hand shakes as I extend my arm, but fear grips me at the last second, and I snatch my hand back, my breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps.

Damien doesn’t move. He simply waits, the blanket extended.

I swallow hard and reach out again, my fingers brushing the soft fabric. When Damien still doesn’t move, I take the blanket from him and wrap it around my body.

Warmth envelops me, and a shaky sigh escapes as I bring the material up over my chin. It’s smells like antiseptic, but also clean. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything other than cold and dirty, anything other than pain.

Damien shifts to put his feet under him. “Can you stand?”

In answer, I struggle to my feet, sharp pains shooting through my system. My weak legs wobble, and I brace myself on the wall to keep from falling.

Damien doesn’t rush me, doesn’t grab me, or force me to move faster than I’m able. He waits, patient and still, while I find my balance.

Damien backs toward the door, then pauses expectantly.

Still keeping distance between us, I shuffle forward, clutching the blanket.

Damien continues to back away as I approach. “We’re going to go out into the hallway. It will look a bit like a hospital, but don’t worry. We’ll get on the elevator and go up into the house.”

My heart pounds faster as memories of cold, sterile rooms and harsh lights flash through my mind, my breath catching. But Damien’s steady gaze holds mine, somehow easing the fear that threatens to overwhelm me.

I take another step forward, then freeze when Damien holds up a hand. “Hang on a second.”

My muscles tense. Has this all been a trick, after all?

Damien pops his head out the door, speaking to someone on the other side. “Clear the hallway.”

A brief pause follows the order, then a muffled response, “I need to talk to that kid.”

My pulse races at the thought of facing someone else, of being questioned and prodded. I shrink back, bumping into the hospital bed.

Damien shakes his head. “Not now. Give him some space.”

Another pause, longer this time, then a reluctant, “Fine.”

Satisfied, Damien opens the door wider and steps out into the hallway.

After a moment’s hesitation, I follow.

The hallway is every bit as white and sterile as I feared, with harsh fluorescent lights that burn my eyes. For a moment, I’m back in the lab, strapped to a table, while masked figures loom over me.

“Hey, look only at me, okay?” Damien says, snapping me out of it.

He stands a little distance down the hall, waiting for me to come to him. When I shuffle forward, he doesn’t touch or guide me, just walks backward down the hallway, giving me space to follow at my pace.

I fix on his face, trying to block out the memories that threaten to drag me under.

One step at a time. Keep moving forward.

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