Page 25 of The Madman's Nightmare
He promised he’d return for me, and I started to think it was a false promise. I never gave up hope that he would return, but it had been two years, and I’d kept him my secret, just like he demanded. At times, I questioned if he was real, then I’d remember the sheets covering my adoptive parents’ bodies, and I remembered the scream as he dealt with them and their treatment of me.
I wasn’t paying attention leaving class one day and my foot had slipped, causing me to start to fall down the marble steps of my building. Someone grabbed hold of my backpack, pulling me from the ledge and saving me a lot of pain. I turned to see Michael standing behind me, his green eyes wide as he asked, “Are you okay?”
“I am, thanks to you,” I returned, and then, on a whim, I asked, “Can I buy you a soda for saving my life?”
He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked around before his eyes met mine. “Sure,” he replied, even though he didn’t seem eager to join me.
It wasn’t a big moment in a person’s life—it was just a soda to say thanks for not letting me fall. He kept looking around as we sat on the bench in the quad, sipping on our cans of soda. I tried to engage him in conversation, but he gave short, almost non-answers, so I figured, like me, he had things he didn’t want to speak of.
When we finished, I stood and simply said, “Thank you again.”
He nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose before turning and walking down the sidewalk. He was odd in a unique way, but who was I to judge? His figure grew smaller until he got to the corner of the street and a car rolled up. He stepped beside it, opened the back door, and got into the vehicle. It turned away from me, and I shrugged, thinking that’s who he was looking for.
Michael never reappeared in class after that day, and by the time my freshman year was over, he was a distant memory of the asshole I’d dated the second half of my freshman year. That bastard cheated on me, giving me my first real heartbreak, and the sweet boy who stopped me from getting hurt wasn’t even a thought after that.
I woke up to a light knocking on the bedroom door. Sitting up, I tried to cover my painful utterance before I said, “Come in.”
Bradon opened the door, and his expression appeared worried as he walked into the room. I slid up to the headboard, crossing my legs under me as he placed a tray with my food onto the foot of the bed.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, and I reached up, delicately touching my face.
It was swollen and I’m sure bruised, but I responded, “I’m fine.”
His lips pinched before he sighed deeply and said, “There are two more pain pills with your food.”
I looked to see two sandwiches, a bag of chips, and two bottles of water. I lifted my eyes to him and said, “Thank you.”
He stepped backward out of the room and he made a gesture with his hand before quickly dropping it. It was the motion someone would make to push their glasses up if they slippeddown and when his eyes met mine, I saw a familiar green looking back at me.
“I’ll let you rest,” he simply said and turned to leave the basement.
“Bradon,” I rushed out, needing one more look to be sure if the memory was accurate or something my concussed brain was creating.
He turned and looked at me, asking, “Yes?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat as our eyes connected and the sweet boy from my freshman econ class stood in front of me, unsure and awkward. He’d changed in the last fifteen years, but I was sure it was the same person.
Why was he back now?
Who was he? Michael? Bradon? Or someone else completely.
“Thanks for the food,” I said and lowered my eyes, trying to hide my recognition of him.
“Rest. Tomorrow . . .” He shook his head and paused before adding, almost in a whisper, “Just don’t make her mad and you’ll survive this.”
Without another word, he turned and walked up the stairs, leaving me alone with two realizations.
The first was the man who beat me this morning was the same boy who saved me all those years ago.
And second, whatever I experienced today was going to pale in comparison to whatever fresh hell tomorrow was bringing.
I hate every bite of food, making sure to drink as much as I could before I felt sloshy inside. After using the bathroom, I laid down and pulled the think blanket over me as worry and a glimmer of hope filled me.
If he saved me once, would he save me again?
Was I strong enough to survive tomorrow?
What was Kendra’s plan for me and would I be able to live through her madness?
