Page 32 of Heart Sick

The man nods, and I don’t question it as Bowie opens a door, indicating this is our exit. The darkness welcomes us.

Bowie reads my apprehension and extends his hand. I can turn around at any time. He is giving me a choice, one which I accept as I place my hand into his. The moment I do, a shiver robs me of breath. It’s not a bad feeling.

But it’s not a good one either.

I ignore it and follow Bowie as he leads us into the unknown. I watch my footing but the moment my bare feet touch the ground, I realize where we are.

“Why are we down here?” I ask, tugging on his hand and digging in my heels. I’m unsure why he’s leading us back to the place we wanted to escape.

“Because this time, we’re here of our own accord. Let’s find out what secrets this place holds.” He squeezes my hand gently.

This may be a silver lining as such. Even though we’re both cooped up here against our own will, this may provide us with an adventure we need to forget where we are, and why we’re here.

With that thought in mind, I let go of my reservations and hold on to Bowie’s hand as he leads me down the dark corridor. It’s so quiet down here. I can almost forget a world exists outside Bowie and me.

We are in a tunnel and I wonder what a hospital would need one for. I observe the many rooms we pass by and wish there were windows on the doors so I could look in. I know Bowie doesn’t want to waste time as we don’t have much of it.

I’m guessing he wants to explore as much of the blueprint as we can tonight, so we know its layout for when we come back as I assume we will be back.

He never lets go of my hand and I like that he doesn’t. We walk in silence, both taking it all in. We turn a corner and both gasp when we see the tunnel branches off into two directions.

“Which way?”

Nothing distinguishes either tunnel, so I shrug. “Oh no, I’m not taking on that responsibility. If we die, it can be on both our heads.”

His gravelly laugh bounces off the concrete walls. “Fair enough. I would say flip a coin, but—” And he pats himself down with a smirk. “No pockets.”

“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe?” I offer as a solution.

Bowie turns over his shoulder and smiles. “Looks like it then.”

I expect him to do the honors, but he catches me completely off guard as he stands behind me. I almost forget to breathe when he runs his fingers down my arms and latches on to my wrists. He is tall, I’d say six-four.

I’m not short, but I still feel shadowed in his presence and I know that has everything to do with the way he carries himself.

His breath is warm against my neck and I shift against him subtly so we’re pressed back to chest. Nothing has ever felt so right.

He raises my arm and coaxes me to point my finger as he commences, “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…”

The entire time, I hold my breath, my heart sounding so loudly, I’m certain Bowie can hear it.

“Moe,” he concludes, my finger landing on the tunnel on the left.

I’ve forgotten everything, however, except for the way Bowie feels pressed up against me. He doesn’t let me go. He instead traces a finger along the underside of my wrist. The touch is purely innocent, but it evokes a hunger in me.

It takes all my willpower not to turn around and give in to my needs of pressing my mouth to his as I wish to see if he tastes as good as he smells.

He lets me go and I instantly miss his hands on me.

He walks toward the tunnel without fear, while I catch my breath. I follow, still reeling from the way my body responds to him touching me. He seems unaffected, however, so maybe it’s just me.

The ground is wet and I peer above to see small droplets of water clinging onto the cracks in the ceiling. I wonder just where we’re headed.

“What are these used for?” I ask, my voice echoing around us.

“I don’t really know,” he confesses, walking with caution as this tunnel is long and doesn’t seem to end. “If I were to guess, I would think to transport patients—dead or alive, in secret.”

I blanch, but it makes sense.

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