29. Wake Up Ronan
29
Wake Up: Ronan
“ Ronan, you have to get up,” Silene says from where she sits atop me. I’m still laying in my bed, my hair is longer than it should be right now and is falling onto my forehead in black, messy waves. I have an odd sense of Déjà vu.
My hands wander under the white button down shirt that she had stolen from me before straddling me.
Deciding there are other things I’d rather be doing than leaving this bed, I begin unbuttoning the shirt from the goddess on top of me. It seems, however, she doesn’t agree with my idea when she lets out a loud, throaty laugh and throws her head back in amusement before grabbing ahold of my wrists and pinning them above my head. She leans forward, bringing her nose to mine. Her long hair cascades around us in dark brown waves, still slightly mussed from sleep, and her mossy green eyes bore into mine while a smile graces her full lips as she lets her hands roam up the expanse of my arms.
When they reach a wound on my bicep I wince, looking down at the irritated area. The scab that had been forming begins to fall away, and red drips on the white sheets we lay in.
“Ronan, you have to get up now. Come on,” Silene says, humor still etched onto her face as if she doesn’t even notice the blood dripping and making a mess.
Her hands move to cup my jaw, and when she does, I pull away as if I have been physically struck, but she doesn’t react to that either as she pulls me closer to her body. Even as uncertainty courses through me, I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her closer to my body. She laughs at the actions, trying to pull her chest away from my own. Fits of giggles continue to rack through her.
“Ronan,” she starts, gasping for air as her laughter continues. “Come on, you have to wake up.”
When I don’t pull away, her laughter turns into deep gasping breaths, as if she can’t get in enough air. Concerned, I let her go to ask if she’s okay, but when she pulls away, her body is covered in blood. With wide, haunted eyes, she breathlessly peers at me as if I’m not understanding her.
But then I realize the blood on her body isn’t hers. It’s mine. Bloody patches of my body where skin has been removed scatter my torso. They’re not large but plentiful, and when two more cuts appear on my upper arm and shoulder, I look back up to her eyes that hold so much pain and horror.
“Ronan, wake up!”
I wake, bound to a chair, screaming in agony.