32. Liam
Electricity spreads throughout my body as I stand outside Emily’s door. The nerves I feel are overwhelming my system and I feel like I’m going to throw up.
I don’t know what state she’s going to be in when I cross that threshold and I don’t think I’m strong enough to see her dazed and nearly unconscious from whatever medication she’s taken.
I wasn’t there when she killed one of Vladimir’s men, but Rhys has mentioned it was a shock to see her release so much anger. Emily has always been gentle and relatively level-headed. To know she had that emotion trapped inside makes it even clearer that I need to help her.
I need to find a way to help her release what’s inside before it locks her in a place she’s never going to escape.
I straighten my shoulders and sigh before raising my fist and knocking on the door.
Silence.
I knock again.
When I’m greeted with more silence, I reach for the doorknob. It twists easily and I push inside.
Emily is seated with her back to me as she stares outside her window. Her hand moves rapidly against the outside of her thigh. Her posture is rigid, and I can hear her shallow, panicked breaths.
“Emily?”
She doesn’t react to my voice or presence. Her hand continues to move in jerky yet quick movements.
Something is wrong. The atmosphere in this room is dark and depressing. It’s suffocating and makes the collar of my shirt feel too tight. I pull at the material and try to breathe through the smothering sensation.
My steps are muffled from the plush carpeting, but I try to make some noise, so she knows I’m here. I don’t want to put her into a panic.
“Féileacán?”
I peer down at her hand and see the blood that is spread over her fingertips and that gaping wound that is in her thigh.
“Emily, stop.” I reach for her shoulder, and she jumps with a shriek.
She falls from her chair with a loud thud and pushes herself up against the wall. She slaps her hands over her ears and her eyes are closed.
“You’re not real. You’re not real. You’re not real.” She mutters under her breath and my heart breaks.
“It’s me, Emily. It’s Liam.”
She shakes her head, her face scrunched in pain.
Blood runs down the side of her thigh and stains the white carpet.
I kneel in front of her. My heart constricting in my chest so tightly, it’s physically painful. Her face is pale, sweat lines her temples causing the hairs to stick to her skin.
“Baby… You’re okay. You’re home.” I whisper, trying to coax her out of where her mind has taken her.
She pauses and then peers up at me. Her eyes are haunted and glazed over.
“L-Liam?” she whispers. She’s looking at me yet not seeing me as being truly here.
“I’m here, Em.”
“Please don’t leave me again. I don’t want to be alone.” Her lip quivers and she chokes out a sob.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” I whisper and scoot closer.
“I don’t want to die here.”
Pain unlike anything I’ve ever known saturates my soul and starts to pull it apart thread by thread.
“ Féileacán , you’re home. You’re not trapped anymore.” I try to keep my voice from shaking but it’s nearly impossible.
My beautiful Emily is shattering before my eyes, and I can’t stop it.
She closes her eyes and slowly shakes her head.
I reach out and push a strand of her hair behind her ear and she flinches. When she opens her eyes again, they’re wide and clear.
“Liam?”
I smile softly at her and stroke her smooth skin.
“I’m here, baby.”
Her face crumbles and she throws herself into my arms. A broken sob escapes her. Within seconds the front of my shirt is soaked in her tears. She clings to me with all her strength. I wrap my arms around her small frame and kiss the top of her head before pressing my cheek against it.
The scent of berries fills my nose. She’s missing the scent of wildflowers, and it sends another wave of sadness through my heart.
I pull back when I remember the wound on her leg, and I peer down. She sees what I am looking at and tries to pull the hem of her shorts over it.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper.
She doesn’t answer, simply dips her head with embarrassment, or is that shame?
“Emily, why are you hurting yourself?” I press.
Her red hair falls from behind her ear and umbrellas over her face.
“It quiets the noise,” she mumbles.
My brows furrow but I don’t say anything. I’m not sure what to say. She haunted and I don’t know how to help. I don’t know what to do.
“Can I help you get cleaned up?” I ask and she nods.
Gently, I scoop her up into my arms and she wraps her arms around my neck. Her body is trembling and there is still a light sheen of sweat along her hairline.
I stride to the ensuite and set her down on the countertop. She keeps her eyes trained on the ground.
I walk over to the cabinet and search for a first-aid kit. Once I’ve found what I need, I step in front of her and set the container on the counter.
“Em…” I whisper, but she shows no indication that she’s heard me.
I grip her chin with my forefinger and thumb and gently raise her eyes to mine. Her eyelids flutter and there is glossiness in her gaze.
“I’m going to start cleaning your leg, okay?” I ask, keeping her from moving her eyes away from mine.
She studies my face and then nods slowly while chewing on her cheek. When I release her chin, she keeps her head up and watches my movements as I set the supplies out.
“This is going to sting,” I say as I pour the antiseptic on a clean cotton pad. She doesn’t react when I place it on her wound which causes me to pause and look up at her.
She’s staring blankly at her leg; her eyes are vacant.
Feck.
I continue through the motions of tending to her leg. Once finished, I throw the garbage away and place my hands on either side of her hips, holding onto the counter.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask quietly.
She shakes her head and my shoulders sag.
“Tell me how to help, mo ghrá. Please,” I plead.
“You can’t…” she whispers. Her voice is emotionless.
I step closer to her, and her entire body tenses. Slowly, I press a kiss on the top of her head. Her body begins to relax after I do not remove my lips from her hair.
“Let me help you, Emily. Let me be here for you.”
The back of my eyes burn as the emotions within me begin to overflow.
I peer down when I feel her press her palm against my chest. She stares at her hand and then clenches the fabric of my Henley.
“You’re really here… Aren’t you?” she whispers, more to herself than me.
I don’t reply. I just watch as she explores my chest with her hand. She adds the other and then trails up along my neck and finally my face. I close my eyes and simply feel the softness of her touch along my skin. My body is buzzing, and my heart is beating erratically with each pass of her touch. Her fingers lightly trace my jawline and then my lips, where they stop.
When she pulls her touch away, I open my eyes.
“I’m ready to go to bed.” I’m forced to step back when she hops off the countertop. She winces when her leg meets the ground and I realize it’s the only time she’s reacted to the pain.
I watch as she makes her way out of the ensuite. When I step through the doorway, she’s pouring some pills into her palm.
“How much of that have you taken?” I ask and step toward her.
She mumbles something under her breath, but I can’t hear what is said.
“Emily,” I press.
“I take what I need,” she says, keeping her back to me as she raises her hand to her lips and tosses the pills into her mouth. She swallows them dry before bringing the glass of water from her nightstand to her lips.
Her phone rings and she looks down at the screen for a second before sending the caller to voicemail.
“Please leave,” she whispers and then climbs into bed.
I clench and unclench my fists as I watch her settle into bed.
“I’m here when you need me, Féileacán. ”
I stride to the doorway and exit her room.