Illuminated Shadows Ch.2

Chapter Two

I could not open my eyes, but I felt every muscle in my body scream out in pain as if I had been tossed off a cliff and left for dead. I tried once more to open my eyes, and then I finally opened one eyelid, then the other followed. My vision blurred, and I did not recognize my surroundings. I put my head back down on the pillow as I felt the bile rise in my throat from my spinning vision. My hand went to my head, and it felt hot and wet. I knew I had a fever, but I could not bring my voice to make a sound.

I tried to sit up with all of my might, but my abdominal muscles screamed. Then a hand pushed me back to the bed. I only saw a figure, no face, no eyes, and voice. I tried to fight them, but as I went to move my left arm, a blistering hot pain shot down my arm. My fingers numbed just as I screamed briefly from the pain. Out of the shadows, I heard it, a voice so sweet that I swear if I were not in pain, I would have been in heaven.

"You have been shot. Just rest. You are … safe, for the moment." I wondered why that lyrical voice tripped over that last part. I felt fingers take the collar of my clothes that were not mine and move it aside so they could check the source of my pain. Then those nimble fingers curled and felt my cheek and then laid flat on my forehead.

The cold of her fingers made me sigh deeply as if that touch could cure me. I must have been delusional, definitely not in my right mind. I never thought these thoughts, never took the time to think about someone's hand on my brow. I never thought of someone caring for me. Their cool hand slipped from my brow when they got up to leave. I wanted their hand back on my head. I enjoyed the chill of their fingers to ward away that blasted fever I knew was making me scatter-minded.

As I thought they would not come back, I felt two strong hands lift me on the bed and place my torso in a cloud of pillows allowing me to sit up. The pain involved nearly made me pass out, vomit, or both. Then I felt those cold hands at my forehead again, stabilizing my neck. I didn't know my head was swaying back and forth. I opened my eyes, and I still could not see the other person, the person that saved me, I think.

"Who are you?" I rasped, my throat dry and raw. Then I felt strong hands lift me forward. The figure stopped moving, and then they turned on the light next to the bed, and that little bit of light made me shut my eyes to ward off the sting from the assault from the brightness.

"This is going to hurt. Stick with me, and I will go as fast as possible." Before I could say anything, she pushed my good arm through the sleeve of the heavy sweatshirt. Then pulled the shirt over my head and gently pulled the clothing article away and down my damaged arm. I shivered from the lack of clothing, and I opened my eyes as I felt those delicate and nimble fingers fiddle around my wound. I looked into the most enchanting emerald eyes I have ever seen. I have never seen a shade of green that seems to be light and dark at the same time. They seem sad. I looked into this woman's face and noticed high cheek bones, a small nose, and plush lips. I shook my head slightly as I thought of her lips. It was interesting. I saw her hair, which was breathtaking in black, and the play from the moonlight streaked her hair in blue hues. I saw her facial expression change, maybe wince.

"I have painkillers and antibiotics. But I am sorry for the bruising," I looked to my upper arm right below my shoulder.

"I had to dig out the bullet." I turned back to the woman. She had yet to answer my question, but I could not help but watch her as she redressed my arm. Her movements were fluid, graceful, and precise as if she had done this before. She spun on a small stool she brought to my bedside, poured a glass of water, emptied two pills into her hand, and then gave them to me. She returned with another sweatshirt as I took the drink and the pills. I looked at the other and saw the blood stain and the sweat from the fever.

"Who are you?" I asked again, but I looked at this dark-haired angel as she perched on her stool after she got me painfully back into the shirt. Her eyes would not meet mine. I wanted to see emerald once more, and I could not help but try to lift that chin of hers, but I kept my hands in my lap. She stirred on the stool and looked off into space, then her eyes hit mine.

--

I swear this was a bad idea, but I could not fight Saki on this. I owed Saki and Yoko so much, and this was better than killing. I have never cared for another person before, and I know my bedside manner is stiff, but I wanted to take care of this person. I don't know why and the unknown scared me, but they will never know. I heard her question as I finished dressing my guest, not captive. I heard her question the first time, but I was unsure how to answer. I have done many horrible things in my life, and I am sure I will have to do many awful things in the future, but I did not want to think about them. But this woman was about to be one of my more horrible things, one of my regrets, then she got shot.

My mind spun, and my ever-steady hands shook as I tried to find the words to tell this innocent woman who I was. I looked up into her eyes just then and saw the strangest color of hazel, and I could not take my eyes away from them. She did not stop looking into my eyes. I realized the constant eye contact brought discomfort and jerked my eyes away from her. The woman simply folded her hands and waited. She was used to getting what she wanted, and I was half tempted to make her wait, make her know what it’s like not to be able to get the answers you want at that moment you want them. But I looked up again, and she smiled. Oh god, she smiled. I can’t get out of my mind. I was going to kill her about 5 hours ago, and here I am taking care of her. I shook my head, and then I straightened my back.

"My name is Luna, and as of 5 hours ago, I was sent to kill you." I saw the look of shock spread across her face, and then her mouth made a delicate little 'O' as she sat in disbelief. I stood from the stool and then turned out the light. I took the tray of materials away from my guest and then pulled a fluffy armchair across my wood floors to the bed. I propped my feet up at the foot of the bed and watched her eyes dart around the room. Then, I took out my 9mm and put it on my lap under the blanket. She saw everything, every movement, and when I closed my eyes, I could hear her breathing slow down and felt her shift in the bed as she lay down.

"Why am I not dead then?" She challenged me, trying to gain the upper hand on authority, but I would not let her have it.

"You are not dead because someone else tried to kill you. I don't kill if I don't know what's going on. Now I am to protect you."

"How can I trust you?" she said to the ceiling in a voice that made my insides quiver. A voice mixed with fear and defiance. I almost smiled at how strong she was at that moment.

"Because you are not dead now," I simply stated and then heard her sigh as the meds kicked in and she passed out. I was thankful because it was a lot to tell someone. It was a lot to hear. I never thought I would feel sorry for another person, but I vaguely felt sorry for this woman in my bed. She had no idea that people wanted her dead, and then she found out that her would-be-killer was now her nurse. Oh yes, I do feel sorry for this woman.

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